Jack McGee
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes is an odd duck in the NZ Fringe line up. It’s unusual to have a show at the “birthplace of brilliance” that’s come via the Dunedin Arts Festival. Still, whatever led Lucy Markinvoch and the team at Borderline Arts Ensemble to bring their work to Fringe instead of Circa (home of two of their previous works Lobsters, and Strasbourg 1518), I am not complaining. NZ Fringe is far from a small pond, but Thousand Eyes is a staggeringly massive fish.
At the heart of the show are four people. Firstly there’s Markinvoch, dancer and co-director. She’s joined onstage by dancer Michael Parmenter, they’re lit by Martyn Robyns, and the score is written and performed by Markinvoch’s co-director Lucien Johnson. It’s an impressive feat of collaboration, as all four creatives feel like the star of the show.
Johnson has reportedly been composing the piano score for Thousand Eyes for a decade now. Entitled Nocturnes // Reveries the piece first debuted in Paris at a celebration for the composer Ravel. It’s the backbone of the show and delicately sets the show’s hyper-specific mood. Thousand Eyes is an exercise in tone, and its greatest success is in how precisely it captures the feeling of night-time. While it manages to condense a variety of different shades of night into its hour run-length, ranging from human to animal, ordinary to supernatural, it always feels gentle. Even at its loudest, it feels quiet. Johnson’s music is the thing reminding us, grounding us in the knowledge that the world is asleep, and we’re witnessing something private.
How we witness, is at the core of the show's production and lighting design. We drift down alleys, peering in from windows or up in the clouds. Robyns does extravagantly clever work concealing dancers at various points and having us respond to their shadows, seen through curtains or poking out of darkness. Despite following two dancers, the result is a show that feels like it has a huge ensemble cast. There are flourishes in Robyn’s design, glowing moons and tunnels of light, that are jaw-droppingly striking. I’m confounded by how they managed to get it all set up during a Fringe Pack In Window.
Finally, we have the dancing itself. I’m continually impressed by how well Markinvoch and Parmenter adapt to the different lighting states and costume pieces that litter the show. It’s rare to see a dance work so willing to obfuscate the dance. Movement is just another tool in Borderline’s toolbox, the dancers do not always have to be the most visible or impressive thing on stage. There’s a brief diversion into puppetry to top it all off. I went into this show expecting the overwhelming energy and mania of Strasbourg 1518 (a show I loved), and was thrilled to have my expectations subverted. There’s maturity in restraint.
To be clear, the dancing is still impressive, perhaps most so in its variation. While it’s often free-flowing and fluid, there are sections where it becomes agitated, even frightening. Thousand Eyes is always building, moving forward. It holds a new idea for just long enough for us to get everything we can from it, before pulling us into something new and exciting.
The thing that still lingers with me a week on is the curiosity of the work. Thousand Eyes reminds me of not just being out at night, but of being in a new place. It’s exciting to see that a theatre group as prestigious as Borderline is capable of making work that feels youthful and full of wonder. Perhaps it’s not such an odd duck at NZ Fringe after all.
Johnson has reportedly been composing the piano score for Thousand Eyes for a decade now. Entitled Nocturnes // Reveries the piece first debuted in Paris at a celebration for the composer Ravel. It’s the backbone of the show and delicately sets the show’s hyper-specific mood. Thousand Eyes is an exercise in tone, and its greatest success is in how precisely it captures the feeling of night-time. While it manages to condense a variety of different shades of night into its hour run-length, ranging from human to animal, ordinary to supernatural, it always feels gentle. Even at its loudest, it feels quiet. Johnson’s music is the thing reminding us, grounding us in the knowledge that the world is asleep, and we’re witnessing something private.
How we witness, is at the core of the show's production and lighting design. We drift down alleys, peering in from windows or up in the clouds. Robyns does extravagantly clever work concealing dancers at various points and having us respond to their shadows, seen through curtains or poking out of darkness. Despite following two dancers, the result is a show that feels like it has a huge ensemble cast. There are flourishes in Robyn’s design, glowing moons and tunnels of light, that are jaw-droppingly striking. I’m confounded by how they managed to get it all set up during a Fringe Pack In Window.
Finally, we have the dancing itself. I’m continually impressed by how well Markinvoch and Parmenter adapt to the different lighting states and costume pieces that litter the show. It’s rare to see a dance work so willing to obfuscate the dance. Movement is just another tool in Borderline’s toolbox, the dancers do not always have to be the most visible or impressive thing on stage. There’s a brief diversion into puppetry to top it all off. I went into this show expecting the overwhelming energy and mania of Strasbourg 1518 (a show I loved), and was thrilled to have my expectations subverted. There’s maturity in restraint.
To be clear, the dancing is still impressive, perhaps most so in its variation. While it’s often free-flowing and fluid, there are sections where it becomes agitated, even frightening. Thousand Eyes is always building, moving forward. It holds a new idea for just long enough for us to get everything we can from it, before pulling us into something new and exciting.
The thing that still lingers with me a week on is the curiosity of the work. Thousand Eyes reminds me of not just being out at night, but of being in a new place. It’s exciting to see that a theatre group as prestigious as Borderline is capable of making work that feels youthful and full of wonder. Perhaps it’s not such an odd duck at NZ Fringe after all.