Neon Western Ultrasonic Chaos

Conflicted Theatre’s Neon Western pushes boundaries. Rejuvenating classic Western genre tropes, the show eclectically adds a club feel, neon lights and and a fierce unce-unce. It’s a dystopian new-age, where corporal punishment is rife and communicating through dance is the only way to avoid the hands of the sheriff. As the show was strictly over 18s, we were given a Smirnoff half way through to take the edge off.

The show utilises every inch of the Samuel Beckett Theatre to its advantage, even commencing on the fire-exit stairs outside. There is no proscenium – the audience stand in the middle with the cast darting in and out, so close you can smell them. The Mellow Tonics choir, in fluorescent raincoats, gather on the edges, watching over the dystopian world like a chorus from a Greek play. Sometimes the story takes us to mesmeric set-ups on balconies and platforms around the black-walled room, where neon ‘DANCE’ and ‘DRINK’ signs emphasise the commandments of this world.

Rather than following a linear plotline, the story unfolds as a set of images. A cat-and-mouse chase between damaged Sheriff (Mark D’Aughton) and a red Adidas tracksuit; a grieved widow turned prostitute; an angelic devil stalking for prey; a boxing ring; a preacher being chain whipped for speaking her mind; a soiled dove. The sparse dialogue was often trite, instead the action takes place to a techno house beat, for which immense credit must be given to composer Peter Power. This music tells the audience whether to sway to the beat or pay attention to the violence. A near-constant background sound of coins rattling suggests the capitalistic nature of this dystopia, making the world feel ever closer to our own.

There was some brilliant choreography, notably during a funeral scene where widow (Cara Christie) strips to become a prostitute at her wife’s funeral. Dance is how the inhabitants show love, how they soil a dove, how they express themselves. They reach that higher plane of dance fervour we all aspire to, when the beat touches our bones and sweat becomes liquid energy. To witness this sober is spine-tingling.

While Neon Western’s concept could have been a zeitgeist for our techno times, the lacklustre storyline meant I departed feeling more impressed by the design than the overall production. They achieved a balanced sense of hygge with the intensity of the club scene, or perhaps this feeling may have derived from my own sobriety. More DJs than dramatics, more Hangar than histrionics, the acting just didn’t capture the audience like the beat did.

Rating: ●●●○○

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