A cold case detective drama augmented and enhanced by dance, Scorched Earth opened in its U.S. premiere at St. Ann’s Warehouse on Tuesday for a short run that demands a return engagement since it’s such a cool show. An Irish whodunnit conveyed through a merger of spoken word, striking visuals, expressive physical movement and noir atmospherics, this mostly enjoyable 90-minute dance-theater work is written, directed and choreographed by Luke Murphy. The Irish artist assumes a leading role among four other actor-dancers in this production from Attic Projects, a company Murphy founded.
The modern-day story is set in semi-rural Ireland. A detective, crisply played by Sarah Dowling, investigates a mysterious death from a dozen years ago. She grills McKay, a local farmer and a key suspect characterized with a brooding nature by the tall, lean, hollow-cheeked Murphy. McKay’s guilt soon seems obvious, although his reasons for murder only gradually materialize.
Notable moments in the narrative, which fluidly goes back and forth in time, involve an autopsy, a land auction, a line-dance in a pub and a symbolic passage where McKay is depicted as digging his own grave. Staged in slow motion, a startling opening sequence depicts the physical agonies of several brawling individuals that illustrates the work’s larger theme regarding violence in Ireland today. Several times, as the story evolves in flashbacks, the victim’s murder is presented as a brief, brutal, acrobatic solo by Will Thompson, who kinetically tumbles around as a man being beaten to death.
A property dispute proves to be the motive for the crime. Later, the land itself is personified more than once in dance sequences. Garbed totally in flowing green, grassy, turf-like body stockings, the dancers grapple seductively with McKay, whose love for the land he cultivates so tenderly eventually is shown to overwhelm him. This bizarre interaction initially seems eerie — even risible — but soon the lyrical nature of the choreography and its meaningfulness in the drama prevail.
Birdseye views of the terrain frequently appear among multitudes of mostly black and white projections delivered by Patricio Cassinoni, as well as crime scene photos and images relating to the police procedural. Composed and designed by Rob Moloney, a deeply layered, percussive, metallic-glinting score of voiceovers and electronic sound, spiked with fiddle and piano music, illuminates the action.
For the most part, Scorched Earth is a compelling blend of drama and dance that presents a good story and even a serious message. The fluent setting and strategic costumes designed by Alyson Cummins, as well as Stephen Dodd’s, intricate, dramatic lighting, are integral to the production’s effectiveness. The conclusion, however, loses its punch somewhat due to the time it takes for the ensemble to achieve a bold scenic transformation meant to punctuate a theme regarding Irish people’s struggle with the land they obsessively love.
Fortunately, Murphy’s dynamic, muscular choreography and the solid story he tells so inventively through both his staging and its arresting visuals prove to be positive takeaways. The able performances by Murphy himself, along with Sarah Dowling, Will Thompson, Ryan O’Neil, and Tyler Carney-Faleatua, all of whom handle several roles in this demanding dance-theater work, are always vivid and convincing.
