Dances Like a Bomb review

Zoo Southside, EdinburghMikel Murfi and Finola Cronin have laughs, despair and arresting moments of connection in a dance-theatre show about the realities of ageing

The flub, that’s what he calls it. The handful of flesh wobbling around the gut that she grabs and tugs and jiggles. He then takes the sag of her upper arms in his fingers and flaps it back and forth. Age has a visible toll, of cells minus their collagen, but in this dance theatre show age also gives cause for reflection, some regret and a healthy dose of ceasing to care what anyone else thinks of you.

The two ageing bodies on stage belong to Mikel Murfi and Finola Cronin, he a Lecoq-trained actor, she a former dancer with Pina Bausch’s company, with Jessica and Megan Kennedy of Junk Ensemble choreographing and directing.

The piece has some inspired text, a monologue on our disillusioned man’s daily routine, sleepwalking through samey days, musing on pants with bad elastic and his “return by hypnosis of gin” to bed each night. And there are quietly arresting moments – Cronin’s hand slaps against Murfi’s chest but then stretches out to him in conciliation, with that mix of irritation and deep care that can sometimes define lengthy close relationships.

They quiz each other on memories, past loves and lessons learned, the tone less warm chat than cool inquisition, huge stories cracked open with a word or two, then left hanging. There’s despondence here – the mood dragged down by Denis Clohessy’s maudlin music, the way gravity pulls on flesh – but also an unsentimental straightforwardness. And there are laughs. The pair fall into a macabre and comical Whose Line Is It Anyway-style game, “Let’s do ways of dying!”, and throw out the categories – neglect, gunshot, car crash – Murfi making loud, wet raspberry sounds as his insides come bubbling out.

Murfi is a delight to watch moving, his body flails and jumps in jagged, unselfconscious dancing. Cronin carves space with graceful arms. But much of their movement together is creaking and effortful, the pair leaning heavily on each other, offering necessary support – those sections aren’t always hugely rewarding to watch, but they embody the strength and purpose of bodies that still have much to give.

At Zoo Southside, Edinburgh, until 27 August

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