Self/Unnamed is a mesmerising duet between dancer and mannequin.
As part of Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels Festival, Sadler’s Wells presents a new solo work from French choreographer and visual artist Georges Labbat. But calling it that is perhaps a misnomer. Labbat is joined on the stage of the Lilian Baylis Studio by a resin figure replica, positioned like a frozen cadaver at Pompeii. The 50 minute piece sees Labbat and his partner take us through a tense journey of power and dependency.
Self/Unnamed opens with Labbat — wearing only a nude strapless thong — swinging a light above him by a long chord, creating a whirring sound that builds in intensity until the space feels like a tornado bunker. The chaos only ever ceases when Labbat touches the lying mannequin. At first he is curious, if a little apprehensive, as he repositions the figure with the utmost care in an eerie quietness. It is feather light and easy to lift, gliding as if being gently pulled by a stream or floating in space. At times the partnering resembles acrobatic pressages and lifts, sometimes it is highly precarious.
Labbat watches his partner with worrisome eyes like the nervous parent of a newborn. The mannequin resembling something like a shedded skin of a former self, or the vision of an ideal self — the risk of enmity is high. The feeling of danger, paired with the absolute silence and Tom Bourdon’s stark lighting, makes for nervy watching. The relationship grows terser as Labbat forcefully manipulates the passionless figure with a growing obsession. Hands cover mouths, bodies pin each other down. All done like a glacial tango. While aesthetically austere, the piece is rich in theatricality and emotion. As Diana Ross’ lush Motown hit ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ begins to fade in, our pair are in a vortex that grows in such intensity it could drive a Sufi Dervish to nausea. Labbat is seemingly bound to his translucent costar as Ross maintains in her crooning, ‘nothing can keep me from you’. For what reasons this union exists remain unclear, but Labbat’s violent thrashing, resigned waltzing, and passionate cradling of the resin figure make for a moment of enigmatic catharsis. Whether a manifesto for acceptance of the self, or a metaphor for internal conflict, Self/Unnamed is a thought-provoking and hypnotic work of theatre.