Body Obscure Object certainly lived up to its title. Choreographer Shian Law won the Fringe Festival’s Best Dance award last year for his debut performance Proximate Edifice. Law and his fellow performers are all acclaimed graduates of the VCA School of Dance. Body Obscure Object was inspired in part by Brian De Palma’s 1969 film recording of Dionysus, and in his show, Law sought to explore the ‘avant-garde’ and the artifice of ‘performance.’

The audience was split in half and led to different performance areas – one a large, open stage with a projector screen hanging above it and the other a small cave with a projection on the wall. Though separate and unaware of the other’s location, the two audiences were connected via the projections, which depicted what happened in the other area while they witnessed another dance live. The audience swapped positions, and was then drawn together to watch from a seating bank.

The group dance at the end was beautiful and when more than one body was moving in tandem, Law’s fluid choreography shone. The solos were less compelling, inviting the feeling that the dancers weren’t sharing with us, but rather working through an isolated routine.

Whilst the production elements were impressive, they were also jarring, and at times overwhelmed the performance as we were bombarded with technological distractions like bright lights and set movements. The costumes were gorgeous but the changes seemed unnecessary. The final costume pieces had a beautiful, alien quality, although the costume change and style seemed like a narrative jump at odds with the progression of the piece.

Although the choreography was slick and the use of technology and spatial relationships was interesting, I didn’t really feel like I was invited in as an audience member. For me, watching dance is a very emotive experience. Body Obscure Object had moments that felt as though the performers were about to let us in, and share something, but just as quickly those moments were quashed before they happened.

Missing the key point of audience engagement made it difficult to process and respond to the work. Although I understand that Law’s intention was to highlight the artifice of performance and explore symbolic movements and ritual stripped of meaning, without an emotional draw or a narrative it was difficult to get past the feeling of detachment and alienation to connect, engage and care about what was unfolding.

I marveled at the strength, skill and precision of the dancers – they certainly have a great deal of technical skill. However, I really wanted to see how they could embody emotion. I wanted a hint of passion to give meaning to the detachment I experienced so I could understand what I was being detached from.

This work felt like an example of ‘avant-garde’ moving away from the idea that the arts are a powerful social tool toward the idea of art for art’s sake.

Body Obscure Object has finished its run at the Fringe Festival.

Endangered Species consisted of two short works, both written and directed by Bridget Mackey. The first piece explored a bizarrely dysfunctional couple’s relationship and the Giant Tuna Fish that has come between them. Their thirst for “fun violence” epitomized the play’s insightful explorations of the cruel and violent fantasies people create to escape the reality of their existence.

In the second piece, Vicious Cannibal Clowns have taken over and we find ourselves hiding in a tower with the three Kings and Benjamin, who may or may not ever wake up. To eat a burger would be worse than death, because you might end up like the fattest person Orton ever knew, a woman who grew so huge she filled up an entire room. The strange hierarchical dynamic between these characters were articulated with flair and the use of space in this piece was particularly excellent. The Vicious Cannibal Clowns want your blubbering white flesh to get fat so they can really sink their teeth into it and we, the audience, are left wondering at the bizarre excesses of our own society and the dire circumstances that could potentially lead to.

What feat of evolution led to the bizarre twists, gentle moments and downright weirdness that was Endangered Species? I’m still not sure I have the answer, but I’m certainly glad I trekked to the suburban jungle of Preston via tram, tram replacement bus and yet another tram to experience it. Now I know that seagulls explode if you give them panadol.

Pond opens with a voiceover and a couple undressing each other gently, methodically but decidedly dispassionately, bathed in fluorescent light. They get dressed and climb into bed. Turn their laptops on. Switch off. The words of the voiceover held so much promise. But it was pre-recorded. Distant. Only an echo of the love it professed. “Thanks,” he says. “Yeah, I needed that,” she responds. Some afterglow. We have entered the apartment through a glitch and now we are stuck here, surrounded by plant life exploding from piles of superceded technology, white noise and a considerable absence of conversation. As an audience, we are not invited to become comfortable in their silence but rather to observe and reject it. It is oh so quiet; too quiet.

Grit Theatre caused a stir at last year’s Melbourne Fringe, winning the award for best production and taking out two Green Room awards. Although Pond has a very different tone, it still explores themes and relationships both unique to a Melbourne audience and also universal to Generation Y. Although our technology addiction and the ironic disconnect created by ‘connecting’ online has been explored time and again, Grit Theatre’s exploration of these themes was nonetheless incredibly well presented. Furthermore, Madeleine Worthington’s set design is exceptional, creating a claustrophobic world where the tension between nature and nurture is palpable.

Goldfish only grow as large as the size of their pond, and likewise the couple is unable to expand their minds or their experience beyond the walls of their apartment. Their static is stifling and at times I wanted to get out of my seat and slap them out of it, or yell at them, or hold them; anything to break the interminable hum of static electricity. Pond bored and repulsed me at points, made me sink in my seat and wish I could flick over to the next channel, perfectly illustrating how easy it is to become disengaged but ultimately rewarding its audience with the revelation that it is possible to reconnect.