Theatre review: Dances Like a Bomb

In 'Dances Like a Bomb', the story of aging and death is told through a series of vignettes and games, both verbal and physical. It finishes a two-night run at The Everyman tonight, February 9.

Finola Cronin and Mirkel Murfi in Dances Like a Bomb. Credit: Fionn McCann

Taking its title from a poem by Emily Dickinson, Junk Ensemble’s latest offering ‘Dances Like a Bomb’, features Finola Cronin, a former dancer in the renowned Tanztheater Wuppertal and Mikel Murfi, a Lecoq trained actor, who together play an aging couple trying to come to terms with the natural, but sometimes difficult to accept stages of life; growing old and dying. 

The performance opens with the nameless duo, seated in their underpants on two kitchen chairs. When they eventually decide to stand up and move about, it is to playfully examine one another; stretching, pulling, pinching and tearing at any loose skin they can find in a vulnerable exposition of the effects time has on our bodies. 

After this cross check is completed, they nuzzle their heads together like a pair of wild animals and move across the stage in a series of beautiful movements, exhibiting a deep care and respect for each other, but at the same time, vehemently trying to stress their own individuality. 

While there isn’t much in the way of a structured narrative in this piece, the story of aging is instead told through a series of vignettes and games, both verbal and physical, which are excellently distinguished by the music created by Denis Clohessy.

At one point, Murfi’s character suggests they play out “ways of dying”, Cronin agrees and they then proceed to perform a variety of different ways of how their lives could end. These include immolation, a fatal car crash and a seven minute drowning, to name only a few, but all of which the audience enjoyed seeing reenacted.

It is strange, however, that these two ordinary characters should choose such violent endings, when the majority of death nowadays is much more banal. Perhaps there is a suggestion that a death like this might actually bring a bit of excitement to their otherwise stale lives, which Murfi muses on through the use of a voice over, detailing the dreariness felt when getting out of bed each morning and having to face the day ahead.

The theatricality and effortless nature of their physical movements however is in stark contrast to the brief conversations they have together. At one point they question whether they have any regrets in life, but the result is mechanical in the extreme. 

To return to the poem by Emily Dickinson, where she says “the soul has moments of escape”, this piece seems to say it certainly isn’t through conversing together that this escape can occur and instead it is movement that not only prolongs, but also invigorates our lives.

When the two character’s finally gain a better insight into how the other person is feeling, it’s by swapping outfits and partaking in a spot of cross dressing. By stepping into the other person’s shoes for the first time they are literally and figuratively able to gain a greater understanding of one another’s predicament and as a result are brought closer together before the last and final exhilarating act.

While there was much to enjoy about the two performances and the energy and effort they were able to bring to the stage, the piece itself leans too heavily on the crutch of age and lacks any fresh insights into what it means to grow old. 

Whenever a person of advancing years undertakes or accomplishes a feat that isn’t expected of them, the ensuing plaudits tends to go a bit overboard and while in this case Murfi and Cronin do indeed deserve a lot of praise, it still nonetheless shouldn’t be used to distract from the paucity of the overall work, which falls well short of its stated aim to “celebrate the strength of mature bodies and challenge the cult of youth.” 

It certainly achieves the former, but definitely not the latter and yes Cronin and Murfi are both incredibly nimble and in great condition, for their age, but the production needed quite a bit more to leave a real lasting impression.

‘Dances Like a Bomb’ finishes its short tun tonight at The Everyman, 8pm. Tickets here.

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