Message In A Bottle: Katie Prince & Zoonation Dance Company
And the message is — ‘go and see it now, in your theatre or cinema!’ Surprisingly (and unsurprisingly) it had me in tears from the beginning as a joyful and loving community are broken apart and hurt by conflict, and the fleeing from it. I couldn’t help but think of the hostages, and those hurt by war and conflict — and how much I want them free, men and women not to be brutalised by terror, by those brining terror and violence. Just bring them home! and give people safety to live in their homes. I’ve seen this production before on stage — it was intriguing to see it on screen in the cinema.
To begin, a family celebrate love and a son’s wedding — disturbed by bombings from afar. They all take turns at peering out at it trying to understand. Suddenly their father is killed, leaving siblings and mother behind. Dark clothed figures (representing military/bringers of war and terror) brutalise the women. The dance here is really clever, utilising ‘Don’t Stand Too Close To Me’. Sexual violence and terror is suggested without actually happening — what we do see is very stylised. We’re focused more on the women , their horror, discomfort and terrified reactions — and how the new bride sacrifices herself to save her young sister-in-law from rape and sexual assault. Again in dance we see the horror of her being taken away, leaving just her wedding ring behind her. Gut wrenchingly, she stretches out for rescue, is partially un-costumed against her will, pushed through a door, and a black garbed figure sardonically follows her. She’s gone — and we sort of know to what fate. The remaining family flee and form a fragile boat using their bundles. There aren’t enough life jackets — and suddenly the siblings find their mother is just gone, leaving only her necklace behind to remember her by. Over time, we see their longings for their missing family and loved ones.
Then they encounter border control and camps, where life is almost as bad as in warfare. They wait, and have to buy their way out to freedom. Again, a camp riot, the frustration, boredom and lack of feeling safe, the trauma, grief, pain and hope are vividly portrayed through balletic hiphop. Other dancers in black move bars around one sibling, literally caging them in, dehumanising them.
But there is freedom, new life, hope, new family, the vibrancy of survival and hope. Separated, the siblings live new lives — longing for each other and their missing family. The husband is united with trafficked bride who wants nothing to do with him, owned by her pimps and high on drugs. Somehow she comes to him and they slowly, painfully reunite.
There’s so much happening here — the dance has been made into a language, a drama, true lyrical hiphop theatre, effectively against the backdrop of Sting’s songs. Some really deep themes being explored here with impactful emotional punch — the use of sexual assault and rape during wartime, what it means to be an asylum seeker or refugee, the trauma of being a survivor of fleeing a war-torn country, sex trafficking of those trying to escape, cultural adaptation on arrival (great use of ‘legal alien, Englishman in New York’). Overarching all of this is the reminder that though our current UK government wants people out of sight and mind on barges and Rwanda-bound planes, in hostels and hotels, that real asylum seekers and refugees had families, communities, homes, dreams and aspirations before they came to us, all of which has been shattered or removed. Which is what we see outworked through dance drama here. If you have a heart, watch!
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