In Seven, Leigh Warren draws on the power of storytelling, using the fable of Snow White as a vehicle to tell a story about one of the most fundamental human experiences – love – and all that goes with it – ecstasy, pain, tenderness, loss, forgiveness and humour.

Seven progresses through a series of 16 sections that loosely draw on the Snow White tale but which are rooted firmly in issues relevant today – learning to live with others, managing loss, accepting changes in relationships, and the power of love that is sometimes transformative, at others devastating.  Each of the seven dancers in the LWD company adopts the characteristics of one of the seven famous dwarves, with Lisa Griffiths also doubling as Snow White.

Seven appears to plumb the depths of the deep unconscious.  The dancers arrive on stage, and ultimately leave, through a trapdoor, ascending from and descending to the metaphorical underground of the mind.  As the performance begins, the seven small beds placed around the stage slowly rise, revealing an entanglement of roots that hang from each bed.  Do these roots represent the tangle of emotions that see below the surface in each of our relationships?  The giant mirror that forms the backdrop splits and separates, showing jagged edges.  It seems that we are being shown into a world

Leigh Warren and Dancers perform Seven. Photos: Tony Lewis

that is always there, but which we don’t normally see in the rush of everyday life – the world behind the mirror we present to the world.  The final touch on Dan Potra’s set is the large mirrors set to either side in front of the stage which create an additional performing space, most humourously used to project the depressed face of the mirror ruminating on the ravages of time.

The pinnacle of the performance is To Die for Love and Frogs and Prince.  A besotted Sleepy (Deon Hastie) follows a sophisticated, sunglass wearing, mobile phone using Snow White around the stage.  The goofy expressions of the besotted and complete obliviousness of the beloved is hilarious, but turns to tragedy when he finally catches her and, in a Peppe Le Pieu like moment, hugs her so much she dies.  Of course, this is only temporary as a prince soon arrives to resuscitate her with a kiss.

Seven is entertaining, humorous, at times poignant.  Warren successfully taps into our collective childhood memories of fairytales, and adult experiences of love, to produce a dance work that is engaging and relevant.  The dancing is typical of LWD – lyrical, effortless, impressive, performed to a soundtrack ranging from an ominous hum to emotional crooning.  As the last dancer slips down the trapdoor at the end of the show I was left wanting … more.

Review by Jo McDonald