There is no plot, no dialogue and no set, simply a parquet floor and raw, unvarnished humanity.
'The Record' begins and ends in the same way, with a single cast member staring at the audience from an empty stage. We're invited to meet that gaze, to stare back and to be reminded of what it is to be human. There are no trained actors in 'The Record' and we are not looking at someone playing a role.
Instead, there are 45 participants drawn from across South Australia to reflect our society. We see people representing a range of ages and ethnicities, from all walks of life. Throughout the performance the number of performers on stage ebbs and flows, people stand together and collide while a cello and electronic soundscape provide a swelling backdrop.
Even when they are visible, these representatives of our society are often standing still but there is nothing stagnant about this work. Each changes pose occasionally and breaks into and out of a cycle of small, repetitive movements, moving about the stage from time to time. These pulses have a soothing effect and after a period of stillness, the movement is electric.
Though it begins slowly, as more performers come on stage the production picks up pace and there is a simple joy in watching it unfold. The overall effect is mesmeric, the eye constantly darting about and occasionally coming to rest, enjoying the space.
Minimalist in style, ‘The Record’ evokes a Steve Reich composition as these elements intertwine and come together to form a hypnotic whole. By the end of the piece, even the two musicians have left their tools to stand alongside their fellows, removing any last barriers. 'The Record' is about all of us as we move, fall, catch each other and come to rest, finding our place. It can be unnerving as you hold the gaze of a stranger, but in ‘The Record’ we see ourselves gazing back.
'The Record' was performed at Space Theatre in Adelaide 21-24 September as part of OzAsia Festival.
