Sat 14 Feb: Anna Zhimolokhova, Elisabeth Mulenga and Cailin Leigh & Co

Anna Zhimolokhova The Breakouts

Elisabeth Mulenga The Back of Her Neck

Cailin Leigh & Co Error 404

Error 404 by Cailin & Co jumps between past and present, reflecting on our increasing dependence on technology. Opening with a monologue delivered by an older woman wrapped in archaic computer cords, the voice of the past casts an anxiety on the whole piece. Projection is used cleverly throughout, particularly in the ending section where live projection makes clear commentary on the existence of our online doppelganger and the surveillance state we live under. Overall there is a concise through line between the multimedia elements, generating a palpable energy. I questioned whether some of the longer choreographed sections were needed to support the themes.

Elisabeth Mulenga transfixes us as soon as the lights come up on The Back of Her Neck. Her face, glistening wet, contorts. She veers between pain and pleasure so quickly that they coexist in motion. Her body undulates, her back arches, her legs slowly part. Occasionally, she smirks. Is she enjoying being watched? Religious imagery of clasped hands and self-flagellation intertwine with sexuality. Halfway through what is set up to be a solo work, a second dancer appears. He approaches Mulenga, and traces round her neck to hold her ear. He retreats but stays standing in the corner, a spectre, a complicit witness, for the rest of the piece. With the male dancer watching, her vulnerability is highlighted. The piece is deeply uncomfortable and affecting and Mulenga’s embodiment of this uncanny state is breathtaking.

The Breakouts by Anna Zhimolokhova also utilises projection, displaying Sasha Gusov’s black and white photography. The photos of an industrial fishing farm, a restaurant and a crowd of people, seem to illustrate a world that once was, whilst the stage is a dystopic wasteland, perhaps the aftermath of climate collapse. Two dancers explore this landscape, excavate, take notes and seek salvation in human connection. Whilst the dancers give excellent performances, choreographically the piece feels restrained and moments of intimacy between them are overly precise and therefore a little sterile.

Alma Kremnitzer

Digital dependence has emerged as a popular theme at Resolution, yet Cailin Leigh & Co’sError 404 sets itself apart from other pieces with its historical view: An older female performer recalls floppy discs and her first encounter with a computer, while others crawl across stage tangled in dated electronic cables, the Marley’s ghosts of the digital world. There are many ideas in the mix, yet not all coexist comfortably. While visually pleasing, a pure dance section with dancers darting along right-angled pathways feels at odds with less virtuous moments, where spliced-together social media soundbites and projections of toddlers interacting with technology more effectively illustrate how digital culture has reshaped our lives. The most chilling scene? When an onstage camera the dancers have been posing for is removed, they’re startled to find themselves confronted with each other. Evidently, they’re more comfortable faced by a glass lens than a living, breathing human.

Elisabeth Mulenga’s The Back of Her Neck strikes a delicate balance between being clear in intention and inviting multiple readings. Mulenga could be wrestling with anxiety, OCD, or memories of physical violence as she contorts her limbs into submissive backbends and crucifix-like poses. Arching her back on all fours, her hand slaps rhythmically against the floor, evoking sexual themes, while her blood-stained neck and the red hand of the male performer observing her upstage offer subtle clues to the source of her suffering. A definitive cause is never revealed, yet Mulenga remains immersed in her role throughout, her face hosting haunted expressions that flicker between pain, melancholy, and surprisingly, euphoria. Ultimately, The Back of Her Neck is an impressively unnerving meditation on how trauma lives in the body.

Edward Pepper and Viktoria Skittidi are dynamic performers in The Breakouts, their bodies endlessly available to swift changes of direction and speed. Anxiously pacing, stumbling, and scrambling backwards, they recoil from projections of bustling crowds and intensive fish farms. Yet, without other castmates to distinguish themselves from, choreographer Anna Zhimolokhova’s themes of “liberation” and “individuals emerging amidst the collective” struggle to take hold. The fact that Pepper and Skittidi find comfort in melting their bodies into one another, slotting together like interlocking salt and pepper shakers, also paradoxically suggests that the allure of individuality is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Emily May