Remor is immediately unsettling. The entire piece takes place in a tiny prison, within a box on metal bunkbeds that become the stage for this piece. Only 15 people can see this piece at any one time, they squeeze inside the cell with the two performers and witnesses a couple writhe and contort in the intimate closeness of love and the desire for freedom and distance.
Remor played with the paradox physical closeness and emotional distance. The dancers are within touching distance of the audience but somehow a barrier is maintained yet it is also still emotionally immersive.
The authenticity behind the piece is immediately apparent. The set is reconstructed based on the exact dimensions of the abandoned prison cell the piece was created in. Remor’s length is in part what makes it unusual, at only 11 minutes the piece is remarkably self-contained. It didn’t feel rushed or curtailed but delivered a full emotionally exhaustive performance in a fraction of the time.
The dancing is volatile, emotive and surprisingly sensual given the prison setting. Powerful emotions of love and longing are conveyed through the interaction between the couple who desperately clung to one another in a desire for closeness that was then contradicted by their passionate desire for freedom. The physical and at times violent nature of the dancing conveyed the intensity, with performers springing of the wall and colliding in a frenzy emphasising the confines of the cell. The tension is almost terrifying as it is not just the performers who are confined but the audience as well thus they do not passively experiences but are contained within the action.
Remor means rustle, a reference to murmurings of life heard outside the cell throughout, however by the time this show is finished there will be a cacophony of sound surrounding it.
