Low Down

John Moran creates a revolutionary style of opera by meticulously combining recorded sounds. Accompanying the sound bites―sometimes as many as 30 different sounds are mixed in a 5 second time frame―is Moran’s ‘neighbour’ Saori Tsukada, who moves effortlessly across the stage in perfect time to the music. Each composition incorporates elements of Moran’s personal experiences to form repetitious, but mesmerising, representations of his life. The narrative deals with a difficult trip to Thailand, where he discovers a world in total contrast to the safety of his once American home.

Review

Addressing the audience directly, Moran describes what we are about to see as “a portrait of opposites.” Visually, this is plain to see from the start; Moran is openly nervous, Saori as calm as a summer sea. The stage is dark and sparse, with just two chairs and a large box at the front and a brightly lit silver screen behind. We get some background to Moran’s life―how he grew up longing to suffer like Beethoven in return for fame and success as a composer. After spending 10 years with the legendary Phillip Glass, he made it to the ‘big time’ in New York city. But as the novelty of his work wore off, so all the money began to drain away. Not really knowing where to go next, he saw his neighbour Saori on the street, who, in the good old-fashioned role of muse, saved him by becoming the subject of his innovative operas.

Seventy-two beats per minute is the magic number by which Moran tells his latest tale of good fortune. Playing the role of the tormented artist, this particular performance picks up his life story in Berlin. Feeling abandoned by Saori, he finds himself penniless again and unable to renew his visa. We then follow his movements to Thailand, where ideas, such as Buddhism and the gender-blurring sex trade, are explored through film, movement and dance. By layering sound upon sound upon sound and keeping motion in perfect time to the sounds, the boundaries of music, dance and theatre are pushed further and further. What we get are elaborate mimes that are at once difficult to describe and easy to get drawn into. These extremely hypnotic pieces are punctuated by out-of-focus film clips of Patpong nightlife and the public worshipping of King Bhumibol Adulyadej. Occasionally Moran takes pauses for the audience to draw breath to give some more―sometimes needed, sometimes unnecessary―explanation of how he is once again ‘saved’ from despair; this time by Mo, a guardian angel dressed as a Lady Boy!

Saori’s control of movement is an absolute joy to watch. Strikingly dressed at times in traditional Thai costume, her dance is a mixture of classical and ultra-modern and always perfectly executed. Moran’s movement is clumsier but endearing and the co-dependent side of his character is emphasised by this. At times the visual projections add even more depth to an already multi-faceted piece. However, the minimalistic staging puts emphasis on the layers and so at times the films become difficult to watch and appear to be just filling the necessary space.

The selection of portraits as a whole are curiously wrapped in a light-hearted irony, which really comes to prominence in a face-off between a rendition of an all-American Christmas song and a folk dance steeped in Thai tradition and spice. It is in this moment, as opposites well and truly collide, that the piece reaches its climax. John Moran and his neighbour Saori present a highly unique kind of performing art, which makes it easy to see why their reputation as important contributors to advent-garde theatre continues to grow.

Reviewed by Simon Joseph 2 September 2010

Website :

http://www.myspace.com/johnmoranandsaori

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