MÁM

In the evocative, rock-strewn landscape of West Kerry, on Ireland’s southwestern coast, the land is seeded with myth. There, people still speak the ancient, wind-scoured language of the place.

MÁM in Irish means “a pass between mountains.” It also means “an obligation.” A path not chosen, but often imposed. A route the traveller follows without necessarily knowing why. “Sometimes, as artists,” says choreographer Michael Keegan-Dolan, “we feel compelled to do something, even if we can’t fully explain why.” Perhaps the answer lies in connection – the kind that emerges when separation falls away. “That may be why I love theatre: it creates moments of connection.” Guided by this sense of inner necessity, the artist composes a choreography in which twelve dancers from across the world form a charged field of relations – a community of bodies pulsing wildly, ecstatically, rhythmically, turning the stage into a revelry, a kind of feast.

A flame-haired girl wakes inside a nightmare, only to tame it. The nightmare becomes ritual, and ritual turns into celebration. The pitch of intoxication keeps rising. A dancer spins with such force you feel her heart might tear free and strike someone in the audience. At one point, the entire ensemble sits along the length of the stage and looks out at us – and for a moment, we become the Irish Sea.

As the dancers whirl, touch, and embrace, the distances between them dissolve. The “in-between” begins to shrink, and the stage transforms into a space of shared breath. The traditional concertina of Irish virtuoso Cormac Begley meets the sound of the European contemporary ensemble s t a r g a z e, giving rise to a work of dance and theatre that The Irish Times described as “90 minutes of ritualised ecstasy” – sweeping audiences into a haunting, otherworldly journey soaked in the landscape and culture of Ireland.

Nominated for the Best New Dance Production Olivier Award (2020).