East, A Woman Shifting on Time Axis

Sometimes the beauty of choreography is enough, and that is what ultimately rescues East, A Woman Shifting on Time Axis from being so steeped in unexplained depths of Taiwanese and Chinese mythology as to be almost inaccessible.

There is narrative here; you can feel it in the shifting relationships, changing dynamics and recurring characters. But the monologue that forms part of the soundtrack hasn't been translated from Mandarin, and the poetic snippets of text that introduce each scene feel either too deep in metaphor, or too literally translated to be intelligible.

It's frustrating feeling there is another layer you can't quite grasp; a layer where, as a company member told us afterwards, 'woman' is symbolised by the colour red, and a man with a curling snake clasped to his hips is both the male and female spirit. But, if you surrender to the natural rhythms that ebb and flow through the dance—the watercolour palette, the slow, luminous moons floating in the sky, the calligraphic precision of the dancers' hands, and the energy that grows through them into a powerful fluid finale—there is much to be enjoyed. And not just on the surface, but from the sensory response the piece invokes.

Hui-Chen Tan's choreography is rich with beauty and beguiling grace, and Zhu-Wei Wen and Hsiao-Yuan Lin's early duets are full of young love. All it would take is a few additional carefully chosen programme notes to unlock the glory of this piece. It surely deserves it.