CRAWLER @ Dance Base

In the opening moments of CRAWLER, Jessie Thompson drapes herself over a white side table in a long, exaggerated backbend. Jason McNamara sits to the other side of the stage, drumsticks to hand, his expression neutral, backlit by the warm yellow hues of table lamps. Thompson continues to writhe for just a little longer than you expect – appearing unhuman, machine-like, before gradually unfolding, unfurling, as she rises to meet us.

CRAWLER mixes contemporary, street, rave and hip-hop dance elements, alongside musical improvisation, with fluidity and ease. Jason McNamara’s percussion – which encompasses free-form jazz solos, 120bpm electronic loops, and everything in between – acts as both anchor and counterpoint. Together, the pair achieve a synchronicity that feels quite rare to witness. Raspy trills from McNamara’s flute (!) solos are mirrored in Thompson’s gasps for air, the contact of her feet on floorboards perfectly echoing reverberations from his bass drum kicks. There is a sense of vital back-and-forth between pedal, floor and breath that means CRAWLER never once loses its footing or pace.

Much of the show’s success lies in Thompson’s incredible ability to build and dissolve tension in her body: to tease out choreographic threads for her audience to follow. Hair flicks, scratches, and defiant wide-eyed stares build a familiarity that helps sustain focus. For all the show’s improbability, all its joyful propensity to play with sound and genre, we somehow still know where we are bound. 

Whilst CRAWLER is punctuated by bursts of vertiginous (and strobe-enhanced) speed, these passages are pulled back carefully and just in time. Thompson’s energetic hip-hop choreography – arguably where she seems the happiest and most free – is offset moments later by controlled contortions and precise linework. This contrast in her tempo, coupled with a great range of facial expressions, make Thompson genuinely captivating to watch.

Ultimately, the bravery in both Thompson and McNamara’s presences on stage cannot be understated. The rawness of their movements is in part due to – and enhanced by – the intimacy of the studio space. It means that every facial contortion and contraction of muscle, every guttural gasp for air and bead of sweat on skin is left exposed for the audience to witness and absorb. 

It is rare for a drummer and dancer to so successfully hold your attention for 45 minutes. CRAWLER's real strength lies in its ability to command it: to exude a defiant power that will stay with you, and remain, long after you leave.

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CRAWLER, Dance Base (Dance Base 1), run ended