★★★★★ Review: Invisible Habitudes《看不见的归属》(2024) by T.H.E Dance Company

Searching, finding, longing, connection.

In an increasingly fractured world, our own identity can enter a state of flux, where we no longer feel comfortable at home, and the familiar becomes strange. It becomes difficult when we’re constantly shouted at from all fronts, yelled at to listen to someone else’s opinion, when we haven’t even settled on our own. In exploring that, T.H.E Dance Company explores a way to seek solace amidst all that, in their new staging of Invisible Habitudes.

Previously staged during the Esplanade’s 2018 da:ns Festival, Invisible Habitudes (2024) was performed at the Singapore Chinese Cultural Centre Auditorium, featuring dancers Billy Kehavong, Ng Zu You, Klievert Jon Mendoza, Haruka Leilani Chan, Chang En and Jhou Han-Wei. Choreographed by T.H.E artistic director Kuik Swee Boon, the auditorium is an interesting space to perform a dance work, expansive and initially cold, as the dancers stand apart from each other, spread out across the stage, seemingly deep in thought. Two large, mirrored pyramidal structures loom behind them, while live sound artist Yujun Wang sets the stage with her dreamy, atmospheric music.

Much of Invisible Habitudes revolves around the idea of individual versus the group, where throughout the choreography, while the dancers are dressed the same initially with no real distinguishing features. There is the constant ebb and flow of relationships, as they break away from each other, allowing the groups to form their own habits, while the individual is left out at times, trapped in one’s own solitude. Each movement is keenly felt, as the dancers exhibit extraordinary strength and show off their flexibility, at times in anguish, others exploratory as they break away to seek their own identity.

If anything, Invisible Habitudes is an invitation to feel and learn to be at peace with one’s self again, a reflection of life itself as we go through the turbulent changes we each encounter, whether it’s the distancing from a group, realising our own beliefs no longer align, or simply finding and cementing that sense of identity in ourselves the more we overcome. The unique set pieces themselves contribute a huge part to this – the mirrored sides seem to symbolise and represent the constant presence of reflection and sense of self the dancers go through, their image warping and changing through each shift and change.

There are times the dancers end up climbing all over these mirrored structures, even clinging precariously by the tips of their fingers, or clutching each other, as if precious about losing that sense of self, fearful of change and what comes next. The mirrors themselves double as a secret door, and occasionally, they flip open to reveal a dancer coming out from behind it; perhaps a new version of the self that emerges from the woodwork once the dust has settled with each change.

The exploratory aspect is further emphasised in sequences such as how Jhou Han-Wei goes offstage and returns bare-chested and in white pants, as if deliberately asserting his individuality as he stands apart from the rest, his pace and movements his own. There is a sense of discomfort from how he stands out from the rest, and it seems to reflect our own society’s fear of breaking from conformity, watching in awe as he confidently weaves across the stage, proud and unafraid to stand out.

Most memorable of all however is when Billy Keohavong has his solo number, stripped down to his bare undergarments, sweating profusely as he makes his way around the stage, showcasing powerful physicality as he writhes his body into new shapes. He is clear and sure about how he no longer has to be part of the crowd, as he speaks Laotian, a story that we may not fully understand but feel from the emotion that emerges from his voice. The other dancers are unperturbed, at least, until Chang En emerges from the mirrored box, she too in her undergarments, as she joins Billy in this journey of selfhood.

Their ensuing duet is mesmerising to watch, as they two begin to bond. Holding each other tenderly, they seem to support each other as they form a single new being, at times walking on hands, a chimeric yet beautiful new creation that revels in and is fuelled by their bond. There is a tenderness to how they move following the violence and fear experienced before, and we are filled with hope as we watch them take the stage by storm, their own tribe as they evolve into better versions of themselves, if only we allow ourselves to do so.

Invisible Habitudes remains one of T.H.E’s most evocative productions, demanding multitudes from the dancers to express, move, stretch and exert themselves to their limits. While abstract, it is a work that allows for multiple entry points for interpretation, primarily from the perspective of what it means to stand out and stand apart, and to accept the sometimes painful change that we need to undergo if we are to make progress. In the largeness of the SCCC Auditorium, Invisible Habitudes finds the hidden connectivities that bind us all together, our fears, our relationships, and tugs at them to find hope and the belief that we are enough, and capable of facing the future, if we take that first step out of our comfort zone – it is only natural we find fellow tribesmen who similarly gravitate to us.

Photo Credit: Crispian Chan

Invisible Habitudes played from 8th to 9th November 2024 at the Singapore Chinese Cultural Centre. The show will tour to Weiwuying – National Kaohsiung Center of the Arts, Kaohsiung, Taiwan on 29th November 2024, and to Damansara Performing Arts Centre, Selangor, Malaysia on 10 & 11 January 2025.

Production Credits:

Concept, Direction, Set Design Kuik Swee Boon
Choreography Kuik Swee Boon in collaboration with the performers
Original Music & Live Performance Yujun Wang
Lighting Design Adrian Tan
Costume Design Loo An Ni
Rehearsal Masters Fiona Thng & Billy Keohavong
Performers Billy Kehavong, Ng Zu You, Klievert Jon Mendoza, Haruka Leilani Chan, Chang En, Jhou Han-Wei
Understudy Carmelita Nuelle Buay

Leave a comment