Walking up narrow stairs, you reach a hazy, haunting room lit only by a few tiny lights. The walls are covered in peeling paint, there are teapots hanging from the ceiling and the atmosphere of a dream-like asylum overwhelms. Stumbling into the room, the audience see three cuddling, pyjama-clad, frozen bodies on the floor. It is as though you have stepped into their dream and as they remain hauntingly still, you know from the start that Somnambulists is no ordinary show.
Somnambulists pushes the limits of theatre to the edge yet never goes too far. Revealing the instinctive and unconscious mind, the show is animalistic and savage while remaining somewhat naïve and playful.
Throughout Somnambulists, the dancers crawl on the floor, gorge on Nutella, and walk around dazed and unaware. Yet there is an intensity and spirit that never lets up. It deals with deeply powerful ideas that stir and influence the audience into not accepting reality and the emotions we take for granted.
We relate to the dancers and feel their love, pain and heartache while being mesmerised at the beauty, passion and strength of the dancers themselves. The dance moves aren’t pretentious or flashy and create mood and character with an impressive minimalism.
The dancers use slow motion, fits of rage and panic, contortions, subtle tensions between men and women, struggles, suspense and playfulness; creating an honest and confronting glimpse of human nature.
You have to see Somnambulists for yourself, experience it, and become engrossed as the dancers come close to you and invite you into their world of dreaming.
With so much substance and energy, Somnambulists captures audiences for 60 minutes without once falling to cliché or routine and will linger in your heart for a long time.