QDance Company’s celebration of Nigerian culture strikes the Southbank audience with a gripping start but eventually falls bland
Choreographed by Qudus Onikeku and presented by Dance Consortium, Re:INCARNATION endeavours to bring about Nigerian culture (possibly hope as well, considering the country’s current enduring economy) and the vibrance of Lagos – the metropolis of West Africa – to the UK audience. This 90-minute dance show traces the loop of Ibi (“Birth”), Iku (“Death”) and Antubi (“Rebirth”) that illustrates, according to Onikeku’s words, “a distinct way of thinking about time in a non-linear, but cyclical manner”.
This indeed sounds intriguing, especially if you are familiar with the recent “temporal turn” rethinking how time shapes social, cultural and political process, especially in a non-linear, non-Western context. This idea resonates with the Yoruba culture, where the mind and the body are seen not as negations, but closely interconnected, with human beings residing liminally in-between.
Together with Mary Peter Ochei’s costume design and Michel Abdallah’s lighting, Onikeku’s choreography valiantly explores this idea. In the first phase “Birth”, we see the high saturation colour of modern costumes, as well as the rhythmic vibrance of Lagos where people socialise, mate, and give birth. The ensemble deftly incorporates well-curated group dances into daily conversations and conflicts. Its sheer intensity easily grips the audience.
Following a bullied boy’s premature death, represented through a brilliant and compelling solo, the show transitions into “Death,” where the show has been gradually drained of its vitality, giving way to repetitive blandness. Here, Onikeku’s days in Paris are evident, easily reminding us of the aesthetics of French contemporary dance: costumes covered by white-ashy powder, doom light on a minimalist, shadowy stage, and circular, repetitive movements. It feels as though Onikeku attempts to mend the show’s excessive intensity with some (Western) restraint, or simply he’s avoiding self-orientalisation by presenting the lively Nigerian funeral culture. However, lacking the immanence of vitality, his declaration of defeating the linear time fades unpromising.
As the ensemble transitions to “Rebirth,” signalled by an everlasting shouting on stage left, the performance becomes even more obscure with a poetry recitation, and all dancers “black themselves up” with some oily material that will glitter silver under the light. Visually striking, they dance in a manner resembling rituals from the remote past, calling back Nigerian authenticity that has been over-coded by the West. Sadly, with infinite loops of explosion and rest, this “Rebirth” seems to indicate the forever loss of such authenticity. The final phase feels exceptionally Hegelian, where the concept of time is, notoriously, anti-intensity.
There are some inviting interpretations in Onikeku’s choreography. For instance, in the “Birth” phase, the ensemble is paired to mimic intercourse, but it is the woman left alone masturbating, who gives birth. This celebration of female fertility has been called back in “Rebirth” where a female dancer plucks her crotch like playing a guitar riff. These details add some bit of fun to watch, but help little to a dance show that opens high but gradually loses its momentum.