
Atomic energy
The Scotsman
Aug. 9, 2001
Maybe it’s something in the San Francisco water supply. Maybe it’s the hot Californian sun. Whatever the reason, American performance group Capacitor are a most unusual bunch. Making their European debut at the Fringe after four successful years in the US, this maverick six-piece would look more at home in a circus ring than a theatre.
Within Outer Spaces is billed as a scientific recounting of our planet’s inception, from single-cell organisms through evolution to the computer age. But narrative is not Capacitor’s strong point, and the search for a storyline is best avoided. Instead, just allow yourself to be entertained - hugely.
A fairly ordinary solo dance opens the show, giving little indication of the strangeness that lies ahead. But within five minutes the bungee cable is out and a Lycra-clad body is spinning furiously before us, mere inches above the ground. Moments later ultraviolet lights flick on, illuminating the audience, and two figures arrive with their heads encased in small white boxes. Soon, they’re hooked up to a brain scanner, sending wires of light up to the ceiling. And so it goes on - each "act" outdoing the last with its uniqueness and theatricality. Blazing headgear, luminous juggling, strobe-lit dancing - everything has been designed for maximum visual impact. Although, occasionally, a deeper meaning filters through. A surreal pas de deux between a man and a woman attached by elastic string is both humorous and thought-provoking; likewise, a sequence where three men climb in, around and through an elasticated mesh cage. And throughout the show, a voice-over counterbalances the on-stage fun with musings about the world and our place in it.
The show’s real strength, however, lies in the performances. The entire company
demonstrates skill and talent in the fields of dance, physical theatre, martial
arts and circus skills. At times the surrealism borders on the preposterous,
but Capacitor display just enough light-heartedness to keep themselves from
straying into pretension. Until 26 August
(Kelly Apter)