“Hey, keep this thing alive even though no one cares about this anymore.” A glib remark about ballet and opera made by actor Timothée Chalamet at the beginning of this year during a Variety interview with Matthew McConaughey. But with a full house at the Arts Centre’s Fairfax Studio, it’s safe to say that dance is far from dead, with Triptych shaking off the dust and injecting new life into the art form.

In just under an hour, Lewis Major’s Triptych, awarded Best Dance at Adelaide Fringe and the Spirit of the Fringe Award at Edinburgh Fringe, takes its audience through a performance of mesmerising visual illusions and highly technical, hypnotic choreography. The performance, split into “Prologue”, “Unfolding” and “Epilogue”, featured dancers Elsi Faulks, Felicity Chadwick, Tahlia Russell and Alexander Abbot in a stunning display of strength, discipline and grace. Triptych—a term typically referring to a single work of art divided into three distinct sections—seamlessly blended the much-revered technicality found in traditional dance styles like ballet with contemporary movement, lighting and audio. Although lacking a clear storyline, the piece was both intimate and poetic.

Initially, I thought that the lack of stage sets or props would detract from the performance; however, it did quite the opposite. The dancers were dressed plainly in black activewear, briefs or bodysuits. There were no physical backdrops or frills for the dancers to hide behind, allowing for the precision and intricacies of the dancing to shine through. The use of lighting and projections was an element of the performance that was executed well. In the past, I have found that projections can tend to make a performance look tacky or low budget. This was not the case with Triptych. The projections were haunting and well integrated, at times mimicking physical objects such as bridges or creating mesmerising caustic textures.

As the first act began, I was immediately entranced by the style of dance, both mechanical and flowing with ease. I felt as though I had taken a mind-altering substance and had landed myself at some futuristic rave. At the beginning of the second act, though, I could feel my attention drifting. The solo dance piece, although very well executed, seemed directionless. However, the second half of act two, featuring a duet performance by Faulks and Abbot, managed to quickly recapture my interest. Faulks, climbing onto Abbot’s shoulders, contorted her body over his head, their arms and legs momentarily becoming one then rapidly splitting off. Although it was a duet, the two dancers resembled one entity with many limbs, reminding me of paintings of Vishnu, the Hindu deity. It wasn’t until the end of act two—after almost ten minutes had elapsed— that I realised Faulks had not touched the floor once. I was almost in disbelief at the sheer strength and agility of both dancers. As someone who can barely bend down to touch their feet, it was like witnessing gods at work.

The third act, “Epilogue”, stuck with me the most. While act two seemed aimless, “Epilogue” steered the audience back onto a path that meshed thematically with the first act. The beginning of the act saw heavy bass sounds and an apocalyptic motif similar to that present in “Prologue”. After reaching a climax of swift movement and strobing lights midway through, “Epilogue” dipped into deep reflection with the dancers lying in the centre of the stage, moving in an almost primordial way. 

The end of the third act—although marked by an extensive interval that made it appear to be a fourth act—took a break from the intensity present in the act’s opening and allowed a moment of contemplation. Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” began to fill the room with Faulks standing elegantly in the centre of the stage, white chalk cascading down her hair and fingertips. As she began to dance, plumes of dust arose from every minor movement, leaving a dreamlike haze across the stage. The scene evoked a vivid picture of an old porcelain wind-up ballerina that had been left in the attic, gathering dust. As the key turned and she was permitted to dance, life returned to the room. It was a stunning scene to end the performance.

As I left the Arts Centre, I began to feel deeply sentimental towards a craft that I hadn’t dedicated much time to. Triptych had asserted the importance of contemporary dance. Performances such as Triptych illustrate the range of the body, providing us insight into what it is capable of and highlighting what is dormant within us. The words of Timothée Chalamet rang in my head. Could society truly let something this beautiful die? After a few mental pirouettes, I landed on no.

An energetic, intimate and innately human performance, Triptych came across as deeply honest, providing a spectacular display of movement accompanied by striking lighting and visuals. The originality of the performance and lack of established storyline allowed the audience to construct their own narrative, making the experience truly inimitable.