Ballet Black, SHADOWS double bill
The hard-working Ballet Black has just unveiled SHADOWS, their latest double bill of all-new work…
Helga Paris-Morales as the serial killer in Cassa Pancho’s ‘My Sister, The Serial Killer’. © Photography by ASH
Ballet Black
SHADOWS: A Shadow Work and My Sister, The Serial Killer
★★★✰✰
London, Hackney Empire
14 March 2025
balletblack.co.uk
www.hackneyempire.co.uk
Ballet Black just unveiled their latest double bill at the Hackney Empire, entitled SHADOWS. It is well conceived, offering two perspectives on the darker side of existence — one serious and the other, er, less so. A great experience it is seeing Ballet Black with its passionate audience whooping and hollering at the end, and the dancers responding with exuberant and playful curtain calls. I love this “from the heart” unstuffiness; it’s quite unique in ballet.
This was my first visit to the Empire, and you can’t fail to be impressed by the flamboyant, late-Victorian splendour of the place. However, the sightlines in some of the stalls are not so great, with a ragtag collection of protruding footlights obscuring views of dancers’ feet and, in this case, a dead body lying on stage. On the positive side, there is great legroom, and bonus points for the bar and all the social space at the back of the stalls.
Brooklyn-born and East Coast-based Chanel DaSilva opened the night with A Shadow Work — a piece that “delves into the profound practice of shadow work, exploring its power to reveal our true selves.” A term new to me, I was furiously Googling “shadow work” on the train there, but joy of joys, the programme includes a page explaining the idea of embracing and coming to terms with our repressed qualities and thoughts — the shadows within us.
Shadow Work is led by a white-clad Taraja Hudson, with the rest of the company, commanded by Acaoã de Castro, acting as her black-clad shadows. It proves to be quite a literal and, for the most part, easily understood telling. To a wide-ranging score (Cristina Spinei) varying from stark piano to full, pounding rock sections, the work depicts the tussle between commanding the shadows and the way they can gang up and overwhelm at times. Shadows perplex and bamboozle en masse; they separate, each having a gnawing moment in the sun, and at other times group together to become smiling assassins. It’s an enjoyable blend of ballet and contemporary movement, with some nice physical gestures, such as the rapid beating of the heart. However, at 40 minutes, with several false endings, it feels a bit too long. But there is good, thoughtful material here, finely conveyed by Hudson, that resonates with the negative thoughts we all experience at times. If it could be trimmed to less than 30 minutes, it would be a keeper.
With Cassa Pancho’s My Sister, The Serial Killer, things go the other way, and the 45-minute work feels possibly too short. Based on Oyinkan Braithwaite’s bestselling and darkly comic novel, Pancho graciously acknowledges in the programme what a huge group effort it has been to bring this production to the stage, and there is much to commend. The plot is clearly outlined in a mercifully brief programme note:
“When Korede gets a distress call from her sister Ayoola, she knows what to do: bleach, rubber gloves, nerves of steel, and a strong stomach. It’s the third boyfriend Ayoola has killed in ‘self-defence,’ and the third mess Korede has to clean up. She should probably go to the police, but family comes first. Things take a turn when Ayoola begins dating the doctor Korede secretly loves, forcing Korede to choose between saving him and betraying her sister…”
The staging is impressive too, with lighting and wheeled furniture conjuring different settings that seamlessly morph and maintain pace. I particularly liked a well-observed party scene, while a murder is in progress, and the dagger fight between Ebony Thomas (the doctor) and Helga Paris-Morales (Ayoola, the serial killer) is chillingly realistic. The ghosts of past victims also add dramatic and psychological heft. While there are comic moments, I expected it to be funnier than it actually was; it feels surprisingly realistic. Isabela Coracy delivers a strong performance as Korede, the sister trying to cope, and her dilemmas surrounding the murders come across clearly. However, I didn’t feel so much around the motivation of Ayoola and why she felt compelled to kill so readily. Meet man, casual interaction, kill man — this seems too quick. Nonetheless, Tom Harrold’s sweeping and jazzy score provides buoyant support, and David Plater’s lighting (a highlight of the entire night) does much heavy lifting in shaping the action. It is a thoughtfully bold work that will inevitably evolve as the company grows into it.