Cover Image: The titular boyband in Harrison Lorenz-Daniel’s ‘BoyBand’, as part of Blue Room Theatre’s two-part 600 Seconds program. Photo by Joel Evans.

600 Seconds: MAKES, August 5–9
The Blue Room Theatre
in partnership with Performing Lines

600 Seconds: MOVES, August 12–16
The Blue Room Theatre
in partnership with STRUT Dance

Javan Akeem Reid commands the tiny stage, a fusion of strength and grace.

Taut muscles hint at emotions simmering beneath as the dancer channels ‘Road to Zion’, reaching and whipping with the lyrics:

We need some love and prosperity/instead of broken dreams and tragedy/By any plan with any means and strategy…

An exploration of the struggles of youth in often brutal surroundings, ‘I am Scared of the Uniforms’ is a powerful piece of theatre. Ably supported by Ian De Mello, Aaroon Suk, Hao-En-Yen and Chuang Yuan Hung, Reid (aka Deco Zymm) pulls the audience through distrust and despair, resilience and hope, over 10 tightly packed minutes.

It also beautifully captures the spirit of the Blue Room Theatre’s two-part 600 Seconds program, so named for the time each artist has to perform, solo or with other creatives.

Designed for emerging and established performers to test out a new work in a more forgiving environment, 600 Seconds also gives successful applicants the benefit of mentorship.

A fixture of Perth’s summer theatrical season, 600 Seconds’ foray into winter begins with ‘Makes’, mentored by Bonnie Davies, aka Famous Sharron. While it might be a coincidence that the most well-rounded stories are those laden with humour, it is surely a bonus for those artists to be able to bounce material off one of Perth’s comedic queens.

Benjamin Quirk’s ‘Twink Death’ is a delightful descent into vanity hell, where our hero wrestles with the reality – at a mere 28 – that he can’t hold back the passage of time. “I feel tired and sore,” he muses. “I thought that only happened to randoms.” Quirk’s 600 seconds are packed with one liners delivered with a wicked glint (and a few dazzling moves) as he demands answers about his crumbling facade from a dismissive deity.

Bedecked in a hideous purple tracksuit and sporting a suitably woeful moustache, Elise Wilson reminds us of the joys of physical comedy. The titular weightlifter in ‘I am Grease Grillson’ elicits laughs as much with a flex of an eyebrow or a sneaky side-eye as her fumbled attempts to raise the bar. Wilson also knows how to work a crowd, even if those segments could have been tighter.  

In Harrison Lorenz-Daniel’s ‘BoyBand’, a white-clad trio thrashes out the hits (with lines such as I don’t see colour/I just see you/Your lives matter to me/even the blue ones). But backstage things are rapidly unravelling for this boy band. Will they survive the night? This work (which also features Parker Horne and Lucy Wong) connects more during the songs, though it’s easy to see how a longer piece could give the back story more weight.

‘Tall Standing Yorgas’, from Third Place Productions, is another piece that will benefit from further exploration. It’s a poignant capsule of the struggle three generations of women endure in the wake of colonisation. Their pain and sorrow, strength and pride ring through the performances but I want to know more about each of them.

There is a bit too much going on with ‘Hissterier’, on the other hand. Kailyn Tang and Amelia La Pira’s feline fascination – navigating the lines between obsession and insanity – feels disjointed, with dance routines lifting engagement rather than the narrative. Perhaps focusing on one element would strengthen the piece.

‘Moves’, the second part of the program, is mentored by experienced dancer and choreographer Tyrone Earl Lraé Robinson (OFF-base Dance).

It’s an entrée to movement for those who are not as comfortable in that space, me included. Apart from ballet and musical routines (and the odd ‘Dancing Queen’ moment), I confess to limited experience with this artform.

I won’t, therefore, pretend to critique the intricacies of their work; I can only admire their dexterity and fluidity. And I can tell you how they make me feel.

This is one of 600 Seconds’ other attractions. Just as artists test the waters, audiences have the chance to dip their toes into the unfamiliar, too. If a piece doesn’t connect with you, something completely different arrives in 10 minutes.

As I dip my toes into ‘Moves’ on a wet Wednesday evening, I marvel at the poses the three dancers hold as the audience takes their seats; I want to tell them to hurry up.

Before they hint at collapse, the lights dim and we are transported to Madilynn Bayliss and Kai Taberner’s ‘Canvas of Time’. Our journey through the gothic Medieval period to the enlightened Renaissance begins with a series of poses before limbs expand and the dancers begin to dip and twirl, wrap and separate. It’s an ethereal performance heightened by lovely music.

Glenn Wallis’s ‘Count Your Cans’ is a complete change of pace – and mood. Two strangers bump into each other as they head out to collect cans. Things start civilly enough until it dawns on them that one is going to make more money (well, about $5) than the other from Containers for Change. An increasingly bitter battle ensues in a silly but enjoyable romp that showcases the performers’ acting chops as much as their dance moves.

The mood shifts again, lights strobing as an astronaut orbits the Earth. The movement is fractured and forceful, picking up pace and urgency as history unfolds with every circuit. ‘Conference on Hope’ (by Zendra Giraudo and Eliza Smith) is uncomfortable to watch, the sense of helplessness increasing to the point of exhaustion, though that is clearly the point.

It is a relief, nonetheless, to move on to Reid’s tour-de-force, rhythm replacing discordant notes, even if the content is not entirely upbeat.  It feels like a more fitting finale to ‘Moves’ than ‘InSafety’. While Bridgette Davies and Otto Pye deliver a gentle and quirky exploration of vulnerability, including some tentative notes on the oboe, these 600 seconds lack the emotional connection of the program’s strongest work.

As I step out into the night, my thoughts return to Reid’s evocative performance and a line from ‘Speak Life’, another Marley track used so well: It’s a mystery how we can keep repeating our history…

I went for the theatre and fell in love with the dance. That’s 600 Seconds by Blue Room Theatre for you.