REVIEW | Kin, Gecko Theatre
Photo credit: MALACHY LUCKIEWritten by Katie
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in return for an honest review.
There’s a kind of magic that happens when the cast of a Gecko show steps on stage.
Gecko is an internationally acclaimed physical and visual theatre company, which has been experimenting with movement, multilingual texts, and audience interpretations since 2001. Led by Artistic Director Amit Lahav, the company has worked tirelessly over the last several years to produce each individual show, and these shows continue to develop and grow with each performance, reacting in real time to their audiences, cast experiences and world affairs.
Gecko’s shows are powerful and provocative, and Kin is a stellar example of this in action. This deeply personal performance presents a story of desperation in a merciless world, coming at a time that horrifically parallels our current society. The core is about migration, and it brings along with it a harrowing focus on racism, community and survival.
This show is stunning. It enchants and intoxicates you into a world like no other, dealing elegantly with hard-hitting themes that so many would be too scared to take on. It is powerful and emotive, and if it could quite literally punch you in the face, it would.
Something to note was the honour of being able to see Artistic Director Amit Lahav himself perform. As a piece of work that stemmed from Lahavs own family history; a reimagining of his own grandmother's epic journey from Yemen to Palestine, it feels right that he should be able to represent it himself, and it felt that much more emotional for it.
This company are renowned for its multi-lingual approach to devising, and this really came into its own tackling this subject matter. Not a word of English was used throughout the show, with actors only speaking in their native tongue, and we rely solely on the movement language to follow the narrative. This is sheer brilliance and just goes to show the boundlessness of human interaction.
Gecko’s dance style is iconic. They have coined a movement vocabulary which heavily incorporates breath work, tension and impulse, yet they move around each other like water. For me, some of the most beautiful moments came when all 8 performers squeezed themselves into the tiny living room set. Not only was this a very literal representation of the living conditions of so many migrants and refugees, but it created a stunning intimacy for the performers to work around. Vanessa Guevara Flores is by far a stand out dancer, and she is able to capture the soul of a character like nobody I have ever seen before.
As with many Gecko shows, they have an effortless way of crafting extraordinary visuals through various trickery and theatre techniques. This is in part, down to the excellent lighting design of Chris Swain, who manages to make performers completely vanish through doors and into darkness. A TV and electric heater suddenly become spotlights, bunraku-style puppets introduce additional characters, and the revolving stage and travelators symbolise both the passing of time, but also the uncontrollable nature of the characters' situation. These all add to the visual poetry and ultimately produce storytelling excellence.
They also tease some suggestive and somewhat uncomfortable imagery in this performance, particularly in the moments where the dancers paint their faces white. I think this unsettling moment was necessary however, as it made the audience really feel deeply for the characters, and experience some of their emotional trauma with them, greatly enhancing this poignant piece of theatre.
By the end of the show, the characters are less than people; mere bodies, cargo, with an identity that has decayed to white performance. It was in this moment that each actor took the opportunity to step out to tell their truth and expand on their own personal experiences, introducing themselves by name. Although this did somewhat bring you out of the narrative, it grounded the piece in truth and made us remember that this is reality we are watching, not a fantasy story.
Kin is not just a performance, it’s an experience. An indescribable mix of dance and visual storytelling that is visceral, and hypnotic. Jarring moments coupled with emotional depth create the most breathtaking, yet gut wrenching exploration of human complexity. It is an enchanting sensory assault that leaves you weeping for the state of the world and a with a hunger to make change.
At Brighton Dome 1,3-4 Nov 2023 and National Theatre 12-27 Jan 2024.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★
