Tag Archives: EFR25

BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

★★★★

Edinburgh International Festival

BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

Edinburgh International Festival

★★★★

“a piece that is uniquely modern, despite multiple traditions from the past that have inspired the work”

Composer Huang Rho, puppeteer Basil Twist, and Ars Nova Copenhagen bring an innovative contemporary opera to the Royal Lyceum Theatre as part of the 2025 Edinburgh International Festival. Book of Mountains and Seas is a UK premiere produced by Beth Morrison Projects, which specializes in the creation of opera and new music theatre. Basil Twist directs a multi-talented ensemble of puppeteers, singers and percussionists in this contemporary opera on environmental themes linked to classical Chinese mythology.

Book of Mountains and Seas is also the title of a large collection of Chinese myths that were written down about 2500 years ago. For this opera, composer and librettist Huang Rho picked four myths from the collection: The Legend of Pan Gu; The Spirit Bird; The Ten Suns, and Kua Fu Chasing the Sun. The first is a Chinese creation myth explaining the meaning of yin and yang; the second about a princess who drowns in the sea and becomes a bird to take revenge; the third, a continuation of the creation story in which ten suns, living in a mulberry tree, threaten the survival of the earth and have to be reduced in number, and finally, a myth about the giant Kua Fu who gets too close to the sun. These may seem rather perplexing narratives until you realize that Huang Rho and Basil Twist are creating a contemporary myth of their own, drawn from ancient sources. A mix of Chinese culture and echoes of more modern, western, cultures. A myth in which ancient stories are reimagined as larger than life figures rising up or swooping about the stage, each with a tale that reveals the fragility of the creatures in the environment we call our world.

Basil Twist and his puppeteers have created a series of abstract, sculptural figures, made out of silk, paper lanterns and driftwood. The dexterity of the puppeteers to move these figures, together with the spare, yet precise choreography of their own movements, produce a performance that integrates perfectly with the equally spare, sculptural quality of the sounds that Huang Rho has composed for his singers and percussionists. Huang Rho’s libretto connects the past with the present (even the future?) with words that are both Mandarin and a language he has invented. And the ease with which Ars Nova Copenhagen produce these sounds is a result of their vocal experience with the past and present: Renaissance polyphony, and new choral compositions. The overall impression of Book of Mountains and Seas is a piece that is uniquely modern, despite multiple traditions from the past that have inspired the work.

For some, the aesthetic of this work may seem almost too austere. It is, after all, a piece that encompasses creation myths in all their diversity and richness. In the Basil Twist/Huang Rho imaginings, the world is collapsed into circles from which mythic creatures arise. The stars are likewise confined within a circle at the back of the stage. The colour palette is sparse in the set design, though this does accentuate the shapes and colours of the driftwood and the lanterns. The silk that plays the ocean becomes a canvas for any number of marine dramas playing out in its constantly moving waves. The faces of the singers are similarly reduced to just circles that sing, their bodies shrouded in black, echoing the puppeteers. Only at the end, when the giant Kua Fu’s walking stick becomes a shower of peach blossoms, do brighter colours emerge. The lighting of designer Ayumu ‘Poe’ Saegusa turns up the heat, and the daylight, for the final moments of the show. The show moves at a pace that remind us that world building is rarely a speedy process. The sounds, and the Chinese characters that are projected from time to time on a variety of screens, are not designed to anchor us in a conventional narrative. Instead, we snatch at hints in sparse lines in English, announcing the emergence of a new scene.

Book of Mountain and Seas is a remarkable collaboration between some of the most innovative and exciting artists working in puppetry and contemporary music theatre today. It is a piece that requires some patience. But it’s an important event that serves to remind us of how innovative artists can be when confined only by the limits of their own imaginations and creativity.



BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

Edinburgh International Festival

Reviewed on 14th August 2025 at Edinburgh Royal Lyceum Theatre

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Andrew Perry

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

BOOK OF MOUNTAINS AND SEAS

TRIPTYCH REDUX

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

TRIPTYCH REDUX

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“It is dance you can read, dance that is language, dance that is legible”

Australian choreographer Lewis Major’s mixed repertory Triptych Redux sweeps between the inner and outer worlds—a whirling maelstrom of motion, sound, and light—holding us in its pull from first breath to final blackout.

Comprising Prologue, Unfolding, and Epilogue (in two parts: Lament and Act 2), the evening is sculpted with a precision that balances momentum and pause. Major’s movement language spins into stillness, weight folding into the body’s centre before rolling outwards in waves. At its heart is a motif: the sudden cascade of motion and a turn that halts as if time itself has caught its breath, the dancer suspended between propulsion and repose, like that moment in a cascading ocean wave when we have a divine yet potent stillness. These are three works and four sections, but mostly, they feel like one thing. One glimpse into a specific topography.

The cast—Rebecca Bassett-Graham, Abbey Harby, Felicity Chadwick, Lewis Major, Stefaan Morrow, and Elsi Faulks—navigate this vocabulary with unerring focus: sliding in socks across the floor, turning and arresting, lifting and sculpting, sketching chalky lines in white powder, tossing it skywards so it drifts and clings like a ghost of movement. There is a known language here.

The structure unfolds with the quiet logic of an ecosystem: trio, duet, quartet, duet for women, duet for men, mixed duet, and a final solo. Music shifts between sections, yet the transitions are seamless—each dance feeding the next, unfolding unhurried and organically. The opening has the feel of ritual, port de bras carried in unison, then broken into counterpointed foldings of the body, as though testing the architecture of the space. There is a haunting duet of stunning partnering where Graham never touches the floor.

Most theatrical reviews fail to mention lighting designers. If the lighting designer does their job well, we often take the illumination for granted; our minds focus on what is being lit, rather than the process of illumination. Lighting, here, is no afterthought but a partner. Co-designed by Major and Fausto Brusamolino, it shapes bodies into relief, flickers like memory, or cuts lines across the stage, always one state dissolves into another without a seam. In Unfolding, Brusamolino casts lines that scan the space, fabrics of shifting patterns, and a spinning “balance beam” of light that demands the dancer’s absolute precision—another kind of movement feat, this time in illumination, and the dancer dancing with light. Lighting designers are fascinating—many spend their days in darkened spaces, sculpting with lumens. The best, like Brusamolino and Major, give only what is needed—never a lumen more. They make our eyes reach for the image, forcing us to focus.

And I have to mention that when the side lights came on, casting warm sculptural amber light on the dancer’s body, those of us who have been watching dance at the fringe drank it in the way an unwatered house plant soaks up a long-awaited drink. Thank you.

Debussy’s Gymnopédies closes the work: a single dancer, powdered and solitary, bathed in a narrow shaft of light. A foot draws a circle; the body answers with arcs of its own—a prayer, a farewell. The music erodes into drone and dissonance, tension mounting until the final swell tips us into a sudden, absolute blackout.

Major’s world is one where light and body are inseparable, where every turn risks arrest, and every arrest holds the seed of the next release. It is dance you can read, dance that is language, dance that is legible, but also dance you can feel without needing to translate.



TRIPTYCH REDUX

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 14th August 2025 at Main House at ZOO Southside

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Ven Tithing

 

 

 

 

 

TRIPTYCH REDUX

TRIPTYCH REDUX

TRIPTYCH REDUX