Published in The Peak – October 20th 2008

Modern dance, while occasionally difficult to understand, is almost impossible to explain. It’s a little like abstract paintings; different, confusing, and occasionally wonderful in ways you can’t put your finger on. Similarly, while not everyone may be able to appreciate the creative style of Battery Opera, you have to respect the undeniable talent that it takes to create such innovative pieces. The first thing I was told about Battery Opera was that I should ‘keep an open mind’ when I went to see their show. After seeing Lee-Su Feh’s most recent work The Whole Beast, I have to say that I would give the same advice. Battery Opera is a company made up of Lee-Su Feh and David McIntosh. It is well known for being unique, innovative, beautiful, and yes, a little strange. The Whole Beast is the latest production by Battery Opera, a solo performance by Lee-Su Feh that redefines the concept of dance through a strange and beautiful story, merging dance and martial arts along with language and emotion, in a mix that sounds strange but feels oh so right. From the moment Lee-Su Feh took the stage, it became clear that the piece was about more than simply watching her dance, but was about an experience. The stage itself was almost bare except for a few strategically placed light bulbs hanging from the ceiling alongside microphones, and a single standing mic at the front of the stage. As Lee-Su Feh took the mic and spoke directly to the audience, she encouraged us to take a deep breath and relax our eyes in our sockets, and to know that she was doing the same. That alone created a level of intimacy that would be continued throughout the whole performance. It was impossible not to feel a connection, not to feel intensely drawn into the music, monologue and movement. Standing amid the naked bulbs Lee-Su Feh cast long shadows across the walls as she told a story that was equally truth and fantasy through her movements and monologues. In her gentle, helpless sounding voice Lee-Su Feh spoke about childhood and pain, about lessons in culture to lessons in cooking, ending in her tale of conquering a dragon and saving a prince. After killing the dragon, she explained, she cut out its heart, and ate it. At this point Lee-Su Feh demonstrated by thrusting her hand into her mouth, while swaying and lunging slowly. She kept her hand her in mouth for what seemed like forever, but was really minutes, as if she was actually savouring the flavour of the heart. As the spit collected on her arm and dripped off her elbow and onto the floor of the stage, you could almost feel the awe of the audience. If this sounds like it would be unsettling, it’s probably because it was. There was a certain level of discomfort during the show, but it was just enough to keep you on the edge of your seat. It was impossible to know what Lee-Su Feh was going to say or do next. The Whole Beast was exercise in dichotomy; soothing and unnerving, minimalist and intense but somehow the whole package just felt right. The honesty of the piece was soothing and beautiful, and the movements were powerful and engaging. Kudos to Lee-Su Feh for pushing the limits of dance, both through movement and speech. While this piece will undoubtedly be misunderstood by some, I would highly suggest it to all. The Whole Beast makes a strong, lasting impression that will leave you certain a little discomfort can sometimes feel just right.