If memories could be uploaded to the cloud, preserved for posterity like flies in amber, which memories would you choose to save – and what would happen to such digital memories when their data inevitably begins to degrade?
Written, directed, choreographed and co-performed by Luke Murphy, an Irish artist from Cork City, the cryptic and compelling Volcano is a philosophical dance-theatre production exploring some of the fundamental questions of science fiction: what does it mean to be human, and where does real life end and artificial life begin?
Set in what initially appears to be a shabby lounge room contained within a glassed-in stage, two men – Murphy himself and English dancer Alistair Goldsmith – enact and reenact a ritualistic series of games and routines to disrupt the monotony of their cloistered existence and to help pass the time.
A smarmy TV talk-show host interviews the father of virtual reality; a son makes an awkward speech at his father’s second wedding, describing bright, gleaming destinies built atop crumbling foundations; an inspirational speaker discusses his lack of sporting abilities and his love for his son amid a soundtrack of canned laughter; and quiz show participants feverishly discuss a range of specialised subjects: poetic endings, the social rules and rituals of lighthouse-keeping, and the faddish creation of time capsules.
Periodic bursts of static from an old-fashioned radio interrupt proceedings to spark frenetic dance routines, ranging from big band-style swing numbers to a 90s rave (complete with a DJ wearing an actual bucket hat!) while, intermittently, a mission control-style commentary interjects to discuss decaying sleep cycles and the potential decommissioning of an ongoing experiment – an experiment the subjects of which we appear to be watching.
As Volcano progresses over its four, 45-minute acts (the first three are separated by five-minute breaks; a longer dinner break is scheduled between the penultimate and final sequences) each sequence – repeated on a sometimes glitching loop – provides hints as to the real story that is unfolding before our eyes.
Clues are present from the start, thanks to a pre-recorded introduction discussing a technological advancement – Gravity Assisted Acceleration or GAA (perhaps a nod to the energy generated by the real-life GAA, Ireland’s Gaelic Athletic Association?) – designed to propel humanity out into the stars, and before long it becomes apparent that the men we are watching are the inhabitants of Pod 261, the latest in a series of GAA-powered pods projected into the far depths of space.
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Featuring exquisite sound and lighting design, and performances that shift effortlessly from acting to contemporary dance in order to embody closeness, drama and rising tension, Volcano is a fascinating work. One moment the production is decrying capitalism’s co-opting of something as intimate and personal as our memories, the next it’s referencing body-horror auteur David Cronenberg’s 1983 classic Videodrome or recreating Star Trek actor William Shatner’s unique spoken word take on Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s hit song ‘Rocket Man’.
Dance sequences explore loneliness and despair; low-fi props evoke daydreams and reassure us that the unknown is a place of hope, not ominous despair. The ending, when it comes, is both heartbreaking and celebratory – a crushing evocation of hopelessness and a triumphant refusal to submit to inevitability.
Save for an expository sequence in the final act, in which pre-recorded video is utilised to cover a fast-paced redressing (or undressing) of the set, Volcano is a near-flawless production. It is dense but never difficult, performed with precision and flair, and offering up deeply resonant provocations about our complicity in the surveillance state and social media’s role in altering something as fundamental as our thought patterns and behaviours – provocations that linger long after the performers have finally left the stage.
Volcano
Luke Murphy’s Attic Projects
Presented by Brisbane Festival, Brisbane Powerhouse and Channel Nine Writer/Director/Choreographer: Luke Murphy
Performers: Luke Murphy and Alistair Goldsmith
Dramaturg: Lily Ockwell
Lighting Designer: Stephen Dodd
Set Designer: Alyson Cummins and Pai Rathaya
Costume Designer: Pai Rathaya
Associate Costume Designer: Laura Fajardo Castro
Composition and Sound Designer: Rob Moloney
Filmmaker: Pato Cassinoni
Music Mix: Chaz Moloney
Original Story Development: Adam Burton, Luke Murphy, Emily Terndrup
Original Sound Design Consultant: Peter Power
Tickets: $95 – $109
Powerhouse Theatre, Brisbane Powerhouse, New Farm
30 August – 14 September 2024
The writer visited Brisbane as a guest of Brisbane Festival.
