An empty stage. Neutral lighting. A square mat. Suddenly, a woman (Sung Im Her, the choreographer and company director) finds her way onto it and begins to move — in silence, cautiously at first, then with growing boldness. Nothing tells you the show has started. No lights dimming, no cue. Like life itself, it just begins — without asking for permission.
As she leaves the stage, six performers arrive. They are the constant of the piece, the small society around which everything revolves. Their presence shapes the next fifty minutes: movement as language, relationships as rhythm. There’s something intriguing in watching them evolve, not through character but through tension, proximity, imitation.
The soundscape by Husk Husk and Lucy Duncan is kept to a disconcerting minimum — alternating between silence, minimal techno, and strange binaural layers — slowly building into something close to hyperactive machine noise. Not quite city sounds, but close enough to feel industrial, suffocating. The light (by designer Young Uk Lee), too, grows harsher as the temperature rises.
And here comes the most compelling element of Of 1°C: its concept. Synced with real temperature data, the show’s lighting and sound grow harsher as the world heats up. This dance piece denounces the effects of climate change on us humans. As society becomes hypersociety — everyone walking with intent yet going nowhere — you can sense the unavoidable collapse before it happens.
The dancers start turning on each other, sizzling, literally — bodies twitching like overcooked wires or pieces of bacon on a pan. It’s visceral. And then, the wrestling: two men caught between intimacy and aggression, power and fragility. For a moment, something raw flickers through.
After that, it is hard to tell what is happening. Maybe some post-apocalyptic world, maybe something else; nothing recognizable remained. Then blackout. We think it’s over — until, from the ashes, a faint noise, and a small worm wriggling out. Life, restarting, with us.
Beautifully conceived, meticulously executed — but for all its precision, Of 1°C left me thinking more than feeling, my favourite thought coming from what might be an accidental metaphor running through the work: it begins with a female presence — the spirit of the Earth — but once the collective appears, only one woman remains. What starts feminine and fertile becomes male, mechanical, and self-destructive. A haunting thought indeed.
Reviewer: Klervi Gavet
Reviewed: 6th November 2025
North West End UK Rating: