Lillian Banks

20 July 2023. Canberra Theatre, Canberra Theatre Centre

With Yuldea, Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first production under the artistic directorship of Frances Rings, the company continues to present work that examines the experiences that Australia’s First Nations people have lived through. As Rings has written in the ‘Welcome’ section of the Yuldea program, ‘Yuldea reflects the truth-telling of the Indigenous experience in Australia and reminds us that there are two stories to the making of this country.’ The ‘two stories’ angle has been an outstanding feature of Bangarra productions since its inception and has contributed to the admiration audiences have had for the company over the years.

Yuldea is in four parts, ‘Supernova’, ‘Kapi (Water)’, ‘Empire’ and ‘Ooldea Spirit’. It tells the story of the Aṉangu people of the Great Victorian Desert and the Nunga of the Far West Region of South Australia. It focuses especially on the traditional cultural activities of the people of the regions, on the effects of colonisation including the building of the Trans-Australian Railway, and on the ability of traditional culture to survive. The title of the work, Yuldea, refers to a ‘soak’ or waterhole seen as an ‘epicentre of traditional life’.

Scene from ‘Empire’ in *Yuldea* referencing the building of the Trans-Australian Railway. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Kate Longley

Choreographically, Yuldea presented the Bangarra style that has become familiar over the course of the company’s existence—the grounded movement, the turned up feet with legs bent sharply from the knee, tightly structured and strongly held group poses, bodies held upside down or at unusual angles in partnering moves, and so forth. But there were times in Yuldea when I was struck by the existence of moments that seemed based on ballet, both in some less grounded movement and recognisable balletic steps, and in the way the movement was structured in groupings that were less random in appearance and often performed in unison. It seemed a little like another version of the ‘two story’ angle.

Yuldea was beautifully danced by the whole company with a standout performance from Lillian Banks and Kallum Goolagong in an early duet.

Scene from *Yuldea*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Yuldea continued the collaborative style of production that has characterised Bangarra presentations for decades. Jennifer Irwin’s costumes were as stunning as ever. Her use of fabric and layering of material, and the cut of her costumes that allows the costume to move freely (as if performing its own dance) were there in spades, as was her admirable addition of decorative items, including feathers, to various parts of the costume.

In terms of set design, Elizabeth Gadsby gave us something different from what we have seen from former resident designer Jacob Nash, who has now moved on to other activities. For me, Gadsby’s set was akin to a kind of architectural minimalism. It consisted of a semi-circular arrangement of ‘ceiling’ to floor strips of material (not sure what they were actually made from) through which the dancers made entrances and exits, and a semi-circular white item that hung in the air in front of the strips of material. The semi-circular shape of both items perhaps represented the shape of a waterhole? I’m not sure. Perhaps the white structure was the serpent, the ‘Steel Snake’ of the railway? The set, especially the strips of material, might have played a functional role but for me the set as a whole lacked a certain artistic vision and the thrill that such vision gives to audiences.

Music came from Leon Rodgers, the recipient of the 2021 David Page Fellowship, and Electric Fields. Lighting was by Karen Norris and there was in-depth cultural consultation with a range of people and groups.

Like most productions from Bangarra, especially those made over the last decade or so, Yuldea is a complex work and asks us to continue to think about many aspects of Australian life. Bangarra will, I feel sure, continue to be one of Australia’s foremost dance companies as it moves ahead with Frances Rings as its artistic director.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2023

Featured image: Lillian Banks and Kallum Goolagong in ‘Kapi (Water)’ from Yuldea. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Kate Longley

12 February 2022, Roslyn Packer Theatre, Sydney

Ever since I began watching productions by Bangarra Dance Theatre (around three decades ago), the aspect of their shows that I have most admired has always been the way in which a story is told through movement. Of course I have loved the fabulous visual and musical aspects of the productions as well—costumes, sets, lighting and score have all contributed beautifully. But dance prevailed as the strongest force.

With this latest production, made jointly with Sydney Theatre Company, somehow dance didn’t prevail any longer. There was some terrific dancing for sure. It was constantly energetic and came from committed dancers. Two performers stood out in particular: the seemingly ageless Elma Kris as Wudjang (‘mother’ in Yugambeh language but with a wider meaning as spirit of Country in this case), and the relatively new artist Lillian Banks as her contemporary manifestation, Gurai. They built up a powerful relationship over the course of the show. But the strongest element in the show to my mind was the spoken and sung word, at times in English and at others in Yugambeh—the latter being the language spoken in the area that Stephen Page, choreographer of the work, recognises as the Country of his ancestry.

Wudjang—not the past was Page’s last production as artistic director of Bangarra. It began with the discovery, by workmen engaged in excavation for the construction of a dam, of ancestral bones, those of Wudjang. It then followed a journey to honour Wudjang with burial in a traditional resting place. Along the way there were scenes where the past was recollected and the present generation was encouraged to move forward with pride and resilience.

Some scenes were confronting, such as that in which one of the characters, Maren, tells of rape and her determination to make those who rape pay for their violence towards Indigenous women. Other characters expressed anger at the raising of a flag claiming territory for ‘the Royal pigsty’. Others showed Indigenous people as curious about the sheep that were being raised by the colonists.

Raising the flag to claim land for ‘the Royal pigsty’. *Wudjang —not the past*. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But words and song dominated and it wasn’t always easy to hear and understand what was happening. The music by Steve Francis was played live on stage with musicians occasionally becoming a close part of the action, especially but not always violinist Veronique Serret. Befitting the confronting elements of the storyline, the music frequently sounded strident, but to my mind unnecessarily loud. Often it drowned out the words so it was not always easy to follow the story, especially when the English was highly idiomatic and the Yugambeh language was not understood by me (and I imagine most of the audience). If words are to prevail they have to be heard, and as far as the sections in Yugambeh language were concerned perhaps surtitles in translation would have helped. The major exception was provided by the singing of Elaine Crombie as Maren. She sang (in English) about resilience and survival after rape and she was just brilliant. Every word was clear and the delivery was powerful and defiant.

Elaine Crombie in Wudjang —not the past. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

As ever, Jennifer Irwin’s costumes were also just brilliant and hugely diverse. They ranged from the beautiful tie-dyed dress worn by Crombie in certain sections, to the intricate clothing worn by Banks and Kris.

Llllian Banks and Elma Kris in *Wudjang —not the past*. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Wudjang —not the past ended with hope in the future as the bones discovered in the opening scene were buried in a traditional manner. But ultimately I was disappointed that the work moved between so many theatrical genres. At times it seemed operatic. At others a bit like musical theatre. I longed for dance to be more powerful, or less dominated by words that were not always comprehensible. Translation was available in the printed program but who can read a program in the dark, not to mention in attempting to do so having to miss what was happening onstage.

Final scene. *Wudjang —not the past*. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Michelle Potter, 14 February 2022

Featured image: Elma Kris as Wudjang and Lillian Banks as Gurai in Wudjang —not the past. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Yuldea. Bangarra Dance Theatre

Wudjang—not the past. Bangarra Dance Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company