“Wudjang is like witnessing a ritual being carved out before us
“Wudjang left me with some stunning individual moments”
“It has the potential to be absolutely breathtaking from start to finish”
Veronica Hannon
4 /5 stars
Wudjang is the word for mother in Mununjali. It is the Language of his father’s Country, his ancestry and his birth, Stephen Page explains in the warmest of welcoming speeches. The outgoing Artistic Director of Bangarra Dance Theatre seems genuinely happy to see so many faces in the nearly full house. Like so many other Sydney Festival shows, the creatives have trod a difficult path to get to opening night due to Covid 19. This is Page’s last job for the company, and before the seventeen dancers, four musicians, and five actors appear, he wants us to know he is offering up his most personal work to date.
It is also a work that draws on the resources of the Sydney Theatre Company in this first-time co-production. It is a good fit for this culturally strong and artistically ambitious dance theatre piece.
Wudjang is like witnessing a ritual being carved out before us. It is presented in the form of nine vignettes. In the program, they are titled, Uncovering, Reclaiming, Colonialisation, Resistance, Confusion, Carrying Trauma, De-Colonising and Regenerating. The gorgeously fluid movement of Bangarra’s dancers gives each section strength and authority in what Page calls a “contemporary ceremony” that blends poetry, spoken storytelling, live music, and song.
From the powerful opening image of a huge bucket-wheel excavator suspended above the performers, it is clear there will be truth-telling from an Indigenous perspective, and there will be no flinching away from examining the destructive aspects of colonialism.
Bangarra veteran Elma Chris dances the titular role. She is both female and a spirit who wants to see her bones exhumed by a mining expansion properly reburied. She is also the personification of nature, a symbol of ever-present trauma and the lighted way back to language and culture. Chris is quite extraordinary, possessing delicate gestural clarity and a remarkable expressive range. Partnered with young ensemble member Lillian Banks, who dances the part of Gurai, they draw and hold your attention.
The evocative soundtrack composed by Steve Francis is another arresting feature. And not in a pit or hidden, the musicians perform alongside the actors and dancers, with violinist Veronique Perret at times taking part in the action. The lyrics are by Page and script co-writer Alana Valentine. When the likes of actor Elaine Crombie sings a blues-soaked number of anger and defiance, “Women like me will destroy men who rape, Rage won’t go away, We will kill you white snake, We will make you pay for your violence,” the whole room feels like it’s shaking.
There is, of course, hope for a brighter future, and the final segment (I will not elaborate on the details and rob you of its impact) is unbearably moving.
Overall, Wudjang left me with some stunning individual moments, but as a flowing entity, it falls short of what it could be. It sometimes felt a bit choppy, but I am sure it will gain cohesion as the production tours. It has the potential to be absolutely breathtaking from start to finish.
Veronica Hannon, Theatre Now
Wudjang: Not the Past
The Roslyn Packer Theatre
Until 12 February 2022
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