The powerful examination of toxicity in a relationship coupled with the language of flowers is the unlikely premise for James Pett and Travis Clausen-Knight’s IMAGO.
Fixating on the word and one of its several meanings—to emerge, butterfly-like, from darkness striving to be one’s perfect self—Clausen-Knight initiated the mesmerising piece as the duo explore connections, façades, heartbreak, abuse, desperation and anxiety—and probably more (or maybe less). It is not clear if this is episodic or a single meander through phases of togetherness and reshaping need, but it hardly matters as the intensity is spellbinding regardless of the narrative.
Nominated as National Dance Awards’ Best Independent Company, the fine detail and innovation is breathtaking, choreographed to the nth degree despite, at times, being blinded by a jacket over the head or a full mask of flowers.
Athletic, symbiotic and engaging, Pett is a brooding, almost sinister cypher while Clausen-Knight wears his heart on his sleeve (but retaining an expressionless face), desperate for attention and love.
Beautiful lifts, entwining pas de deux and much hand play is set to a soundscene melding Vivaldi, Max Richter and brother Sean Pett’s industrial electro (featuring a distorted tractor at one point) as the romance is fleeting, and all—including the ubiquitous plinths—reshape and skew.
Dramatic brooding lighting is dark or green or bright, on point for a piece packed with brutality, precision and mastery.
Superb.