Akram Khan’s GIGENIS: The generation of the Earth
In GIGENIS Akram Khan returns to his South Asian Kathak roots with a sparkling team of dancers and musicians in tow…
Akram Khan’s ‘GIGENIS: The generation of the Earth’. © Maxime Dos Productions Sarfati
Akram Khan
GIGENIS: The generation of the Earth
★★★✰✰
London, Sadler’s Wells
20 November 2024
www.akramkhancompany.net
www.sadlerswells.com
Here is the start of my review as I was mentally drafting it while slowly making my way out of The Wells last night….
I’ve just seen the most excellent Indian classical dancers and musicians doing work of great and thoughtful consequence. And yet, sadly, I’m more than a little frustrated because I have not a clue what it was about or how it related to all the promotional words around the show. The marketing words go with this slant: “Khan’s GIGENIS transcends time, invoking the collective memories of our civilisation.” and “…a time when we were more connected with nature, Mother Earth and our mythology.” But what I saw was a narrative piece populated by ‘real’ people, real love, real death, real fighting and real jealousy. For all I know, it could have been a Kathak take on EastEnders. You get the feeling of something significant being told in detail, but several levels above us and not readily fathomable.
On the train home, I got to read the programme. There is no synopsis, which I’d looked for before curtain up. Still, the opening ‘Need to Know’ section sheds a little more on the night, including that Khan wants to champion tradition (Kathak tradition) in a changing world and is excited to be a storyteller once more. But nothing on what the story is. Burrow in further, and some words by Khan at last give some semi-sensible context. It turns out the Mahabharata inspires the hour-long show. It’s a mother reflecting on her life’s highs and lows and how she came to give birth to two warring sons, “One advocates harmony, and the other revels in chaos.” Nobody would know this from just looking at the stage. The only obvious thing was that the two brothers didn’t get on. Sadly, there is no list of characters in the programme - just a list of seven dancers with Khan and Mavin Khoo as the brothers and five female characters, one of which was the mother. Perhaps the others were earlier memories of the mother, or lovers, or sisters or all the above and more?
Burrow further into the programme and in a fine interview with Sarah Crompton, Khan and Khoo say that GIGENIS is not just about wanting to return to championing South Asian tradition, which is where Khan started his dance career. They each look to shake off the advice so often given to young South Asian dancers to take their movement in an abstract direction as a way of making it globally accessible. To go back to tradition and authenticity is more than laudable and something I think most of us are keen to support. But in going this way, for goodness’ sake, think about what you tell people about your work before the show and how you relay things on the night in the programme and on stage. Don’t just assume that heartfelt convictions and the involvement of wonderful creatives will yield results readily understandable by all. At the end of GIGENIS there was lots of good and polite applause - after all, we recognised great dancers. But I think many felt rather bamboozled and were trying to thread bits of stage action together to stand up the “The generation of the Earth” subtitle idea and general blurb. And that’s a great shame.
The dance was often stunning, and you could see the dramatic roots in so much of it. Strangely it wasn’t the dancing and fighting of Khan and Khoo that connected so much but the way a group of five or six swirling, thrusting dancers could turn up the power level and pulse with controlling energy against an individual - now that was elemental. Another time, the group was largely stationary, but their arms and hands created gloriously mesmerising patterns above their heads - a murmuration of movement, if you like. And in a set piece of striking movement, Mythili Prakash conjured an eternal flame with just her hands and fingers playing with a shaft of light from above - hypnotic and unlike anything I’ve seen before. And Sirikalyani Adkoli was responsible for a section where her head seemed to float totally independently of her neck and body - another wow movement for the eyes, if I’m not sure of the dramatic context. I am sure, though, that I was in the company of magnificent dancers whose every movement was informed by centuries of tradition.
Besides the dancers, there were seven musicians, including 3 vocalists, ranged mainly down the sides of the stage. But one musician dominated the back of the stage and drove much of the emphatic action - Kalamandalam Rajeev pounding his Mizhavu - a big copper drum with an ominous sound. Its position and command felt right. Lighting (Zeynep Kepekli) was mainly from above and very targeted - it could create drama, if I sometimes wanted to see faces more clearly. Occasionally, a set of lower-level bulbs cast a more general light and lent the feel of a village production. Costumes were Kathak appropriate, but in general didn’t differentiate characters. I guess that’s tradition. As appropriate, given the aims, the production values felt respectful of tradition.
All up, I think there are 4 or 5-star ingredients currently giving a 3-star show to the uninitiated. Frustrating though it could be at times, I recognise good dancers and would love to see GIGENIS again, armed with the fuller context. I hope a version of the show has a longer life than this run but with more thought put into informing the audience of the actuality rather than just the philosophically abstract.