Pilobolus

First published on 3 Apr 2009. Updated on 5 Apr 2011.

Review: Connecticut dance company Pilobolus is named after a species of fungus, but perhaps they should have chosen an insect. These movers and shakers - five men and two women - love clustering up and imitating winged, many-legged beasties. Their style of movement involves transforming themselves into recognisable forms: dance that borders on puppetry. It's one of the things that make them accessible even to audiences that don't dig ballet or modern dance.

Also helping them sell tickets is their celebrated shadow play, works that take place behind a screen and conjure up all kind of illusionism. 'Darkness and Light' (2008), the shadow dance that's the centrepiece of their Sydney shows, really is something else: a psychedelic trip among amoebas, jellyfish, mammals and man. Lumpy globules devour each other then morph into gigantic faces. A free-flowing dialogue between evolution and creationism with a Space Odyssey light show climax, it's like the final frontier of human movement - dance, Jim, but not as we know it.

Oh, and they get naked too. "I didn't realise it was going to be X-rated!" a small boy sniggered to his friend in the foyer afterwards. Well, it isn't: crotches remain hidden under discreet flesh-coloured thongs. Still, 'Day Two' (1980) has enough exposed flesh to please the prurient - a frenzied display of bums and torsos pumping like machines, twirling like propellers, and skittering around like creepy-crawlies. Presumably these dancers get along very well: you haven't seen this much skin-on-skin action outside of the Adult Movies section.

For the brief 'Pseudopodia' (1973) a solo dancer (Jun Kurabayashi on opening night) rolls onto the stage in a blaze of scarlet and proceeds to flip his body around like a fireball. His feats of gymnastic brilliance provoked spontaneous applause. 'Symbiosis' (2001), a sensual pas de deux, alternates between tenderness and otherworldly oddity.  

'Rushes' (2007), the evening's absurdist opener, takes place in a circle of 12 small chairs. The space alludes to a clockface, with six performers imitating gears and pendulums. Marching-band antics with the seats give way to a brief dream sequence of animation projected onto a sheet. A dancer tries to walk with a dozen chairs attached to his body and collapses from the effort. For many, this bizarre and melancholy piece will be the highlight of an evening in which even the curtain call is fast, slip-sliding fun.

Dance critics are divided on Pilobolus. The 40-year-old company's work is too easy to enjoy to be taken seriously by elitists, yet too intelligent and evocative to be dismissed as mere populism. It's not a debate that should concern audiences of any stripe. This is just a great night out at the theatre, full stop. Nick Dent

Preview: Highlights of the 2007 Academy Awards ceremony involved silhouetted dancers rolling onto the stage and morphing together into a variety of shadowy forms: a giant Oscar statue; dancing Happy Feet penguins; and even - with the help of Ellen deGeneres - some Snakes on a Plane. "They're naked!" the delighted host exclaimed on emerging from behind the screen.

The telecast gave Connecticut-based dance company Pilobolus a bigger audience than they'd reached in 37 years of stage performances. Now, Sydneysiders will have a chance to witness the company's illusionism live, when it performs Darkness & Light as part of their Sydney Theatre shows in May.

The dancers perform in front of lights behind a screen, like living shadow puppets. "It takes a delicate touch," explains dancer Andrew Herro, on the phone from Amsterdam after a Pilobolus show. "You're creating this huge shadow on the screen, so any jiggle of light looks ten times bigger than it actually is." Created in collaboration with puppeteer Basil Twist, Darkness & Light spins a Darwinian fable. "It begins with amoebas floating through space and interacting, and it evolves into human relationships."

Pilobolus - the name refers to a fungus that thrives in manure - began in 1971. The four founders met as beginners in a modern dance class at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire. "Their teacher was like, 'I'm not going to teach these guys technique. Let's just have them make dances using what they know,'" Herro explains. They developed an outsider style of dance involving acrobatics, gymnastics, mime and humour.

Thirty years later, Herro, an ex-sports jock, was graduating in dance from Milwaukee's Marquette University. "I heard about Pilobolus and was like, 'I'd love to do that.' I headed out to New York and auditioned and made it down to the last few guys. A couple of months later someone got injured and they called me up."

Herro believes the company has survived and thrived because of its versatility. "Our pieces range from pure dance to something that's very theatrical. As we bring each new dancer into the company we see what talents they have and what new type of movement they bring to the stage."

A healthy dose of near-nudity hasn't hurt either - such as in Day Two, a piece using music by David Byrne and Brian Eno. "The nudity is integral to that piece. Often nudity is misconstrued as something wrong or obscene but in the context of the dancing it's amazing. You forget about the bodies being naked and start watching the beauty of the dance." ND