Folks of a devout disposition might find themselves feeling slightly uncomfortable with Ben Duke’s loose adaptation of Milton’s masterwork. To say ‘loose’, however, does not quite do justice to the various teasing liberties taken with the original, which of course was itself merely an imaginative reconstruction of actual events. Unlike many another dance piece of similar scope and subject Mr Duke is quite happy to use the spoken word to narrate his way through the action. Moreover anyone turning up expecting to find a performer in a black leotard or some other dancerly accoutrement might be highly tickled to find an engaging chap in a loose fitting grey suit.
His method is to assume a kind of studied hesitancy which has an endearing quality that gives the impression of spontaneity. To watch Mr Duke is to watch a child giving free rein to its imagination as it tackles, undaunted and without the limiting adult restraints of self-consciousness and fear of ridicule, the loftiest of subjects. Which is to say his freedom of imagination is child-like and definitely not child-ish. So in this version of Creation, God comes under a little pressure to do something having sat around for literally no time (as time didn’t get whirring until the creation kicked it off) doing nothing. Lots of squishing and gurgling sounds accompany the creation of stuff out of which a being was formed. At this point I was a little shaky on whether this was God or some other creature – an angel or man – but given that man is supposedly made in His image the distinction I suppose is moot. Anyway this new thing then had the problem, so humorous to observe in newborn lambs and the like, of getting to grips with the wonderfully articulated body it found itself in possession of. Here Mr Duke shows off the skill which allows him to plant one foot firmly in the genre of dance theatre.
God then sets up as a comfortable little twosome with best pal, Lucifer, who soon gets uppity over God’s desire to start a family and provide himself with an heir. The ensuing spat finds God casting Lucifer, in a memorable piece of mime, down to a nasty pit of fire, along with a bunch of angels who had taken his side. We then find Adam indulging in some teenage onanism, the best cure for which, God decides, is some distraction in the form of a woman. The rest of the show is, as they say, history.
This is a truly original work which will charm the pants off believers and atheists alike – devotees of Milton might feel a little put out – with a breathtaking audacity of ambition which nowhere falls short in achievement. ★★★★☆ Graham Wyles
