The sensational contemporary ballet, Afternoon Cafe, which takes place in JJ Bleam, has finally ended and I don’t know what to do to salvage my shrivelled soul. The ballet stunned the audience with otherworldly wonder as it trotted through a discordant rhythm that can only be appreciated with the unwelcome intrusion of life’s most notorious inhabitant: the city.
The experience is worth a cheap shot of caffeine – a price equal to not getting pestered for the rest of the hour you decide to sit quietly at some corner as you attempt to strip your eyes away from the spectacle that unfolds around you, a task even the most resolute coffee drinker can find challenging. The audience takes a seat away from the babbling crowd and is immediately transported from their mundane reality into an equally, if not more, dull dream filled with a seemingly unintentional murmur that prevents thought from festering in the mind. The asymmetrical backdrop experiments with a new form of theatrical aesthetic that mimics an art gallery curated by a furniture franchise. It’s a new height of modernity which, like its predecessors, finds glory in its ability to remain an enigma.
The vulgar foot-dragging movements of the company highlight the prima ballerina’s elegance as she wades through the cafe, seemingly to order a coffee herself, which functions as a glaring reminder of the lack of aestheticism found in life.
The spectacle ended with an abruptness that mimicked a striking clock. I left craving another cup to wash away the confusion, but the barista’s disapproving frown at my stingy behaviour and the coffee-flavoured water deterred me from future unprompted performances. The piece leaves a desire for silence that can only be appreciated after the noise has dissipated from memory, only to be reawakened by unbearable thirst.
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