Clare Barron’s 2019 Pulitzer Prize-nominated play, Dance Nation, has been brought to the local stage by THAT Production Company at Metro Arts. Superbly directed by Timothy Wynn, it is a fearless reimagining of adolescence, in all its highs, challenges and messy contradictions.
Dance Nation made its Australian premiere in February 2020 in a co-production with State Theatre Company South Australia and Belvoir St Theatre, starring Tara Morice, Amber McMahon and Chika Ikogwe. I was lucky enough to catch the production as part of Adelaide Festival before the whole world was turned upside down by a little thing called COVID-19.
Set in a mid-American town, we meet a troupe of 13-year-old dancers, played by a spirited cast of adult actors. Together, they’re out to conquer the dog-eat-dog world of dance competitions.
Presiding over it all is Dance Teacher Pat (played by Cameron Hurry in a painfully accurate portrayal). He’s a small-town tyrant with no life beyond dance. Using questionable leadership skills, he pushes his troupe toward glory. Regionals first. Nationals next. And maybe, just maybe, a Gandhi-inspired routine will bring home the ultimate trophy for the wall of champions.
Playwright Clare Barron calls Dance Nation a ‘ghost play.’ The adults play both the kids and the future selves they’ll grow into. This production seamlessly integrates a real youth dance troupe from BG Performing Arts into the performance. They open the show with an infectious tap routine and return to perform solos and duos at key moments.
It’s a clever life-imitating-art device from Director Timothy Wynn that blurs the line between fiction and reality. Fittingly, the troupe mirrors the play itself, right down to having just one boy in their ranks! (And if you haven’t seen the priceless archival footage of a young Ryan Gosling dancing as the only boy in his childhood troupe, put it on your watchlist.)
Each cast member adds real weight to the cohesiveness of the production. Aurélie Roque first appears as dancer Vanessa, only to be sidelined by a tragicomic mishap that takes her out of the troupe. She then re-emerges in a series of Dance Mom roles using a fabulous range of characterisations and wigs. Her extended driving scene with son Luke (Morgan Francis) is particularly mesmerising and provides one of the play’s many affecting moments.
As the troupe’s star dancer Amina, Jeanda St James delivers a compelling performance. The aftermath of her competition success is particularly hard hitting, as we see the group gradually begin to isolate her. It’s a sharp and truthful portrayal of what often happens to high flyers, especially in Australia. That old saying, ‘it’s lonely at the top’ rings painfully true here.
As Amina’s friend and rival Zuzu, Carla Haynes beautifully embodies the innocence and vulnerability of youth. Her monologue imagining two versions of losing her virginity is tender, captivating, and appropriately disturbing.
Zuzu’s journey as a dancer is both heartbreaking and deeply relatable. It reminds us how impossibly high the stakes can feel in childhood, when every choice seems life-defining. In the cutthroat world of dance, those choices are magnified, and one wonders how different Zuzu’s path might have looked with better guidance from the adults.
As Ashlee, Thea Raveneau commands attention with a standout monologue that digs into the unease many women feel when confronting their own power under the weight of the male gaze. Janaki Gerard brings sharp comic timing to Connie, who longs for the starring role yet recognises, like so many kids, that the spotlight isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
Johanna Lyon plays Sofia with outrageous humour as the troupe’s self-proclaimed sexpert. She’s later revealed to be far more vulnerable when something unexpected arrives on the eve of competition. Jessica Veurman lends Maeve a dreamy, almost mystical quality. Her monologue on flying is an intriguing moment.
Morgan Francis rounds out the troupe as token boy Luke. Non-threatening and endearingly awkward, he quietly steals our hearts in his tender scene with Zuzu, when her fantasy collides with his innocence.
The show’s design is smart and cohesive. Eva Fritz’s dance studio set feels grounded, intimate, and entirely believable. Wes Bluff’s lighting adds depth, cleverly using the space behind screens for scenes outside the studio. The toilet cubicle moment is genius.
Brady Watkins’ sound design punches through with sudden abrasiveness, cranking up the tension when needed. Fritz’s costumes hit the mark, from slick spray jackets to shimmering competition gear in golds and silvers. Jennifer B. Ashley’s choreography ties it all together, anchoring the surreal in something that feels startlingly real. (I, too, performed a jazz ballet routine to a Madonna hit when I was 13 years old, but that’s another story.)
Dance Nation is a ferocious tribute to the wild forces of puberty and the tangled magic of female friendships. It encapsulates the sweet, fierce contradictions of girlhood: emotional, audacious and unapologetically intense. Capturing both the absurdity and the seriousness of dance, it honours the way performing can light a spark within you: one that can launch you toward the stars, or burn you out before you even grow up.
Dance Nation is presented by THAT Production Company and runs to 30 August at New Benner Theatre, Metro Arts. 97 Boundary Street West End Qld 4101.
Tickets: https://www.metroarts.com.au/event/dance-nation/
Website: https://www.thatproductioncompany.com.au/
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/thatproductioncompany/
Photo credits: Stage Shots
