Review by Emily Carr
How do the leading lights of Australia's indigenous arts community respond to a year which has brought an ugly concoction of the most conservative political forces in decades?
Stephen Page, artistic director and compere of Bangarra Dance Theatre's Black Vine III, performed at Sydney Town Hall on July 11, warned the packed venue that the show would be "a bit more crazy" than its predecessors in 1993 and 1995.
"Pauline doesn't know what she's missing tonight", quipped Rhoda Roberts, artistic director of the Festival of the Dreaming.
Roberts introduced the event by paying homage to community elders in the audience, "and a special welcome to all the non-indigenous people here tonight", before inviting the audience to stand for a minute's silence in memory of the stolen children and their parents.
Black Vine III was the third biennial event marking the National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Reconciliation. A media release promised "a showcase of Australia's most exciting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists".
Also promised was a "modern-day Dreaming, fusing the sacred myths and traditions of Aboriginal Islander life with the experience of contemporary urban indigenous peoples". Both promises were more than fulfilled.
As the lights went down following the welcoming speeches, two Bangarra members in traditional Aboriginal dress made their way from the back of the auditorium to the front of the stage. Djakapurra Munyarryun's voice sent shivers through the crowd with his welcome song, accompanied by Mark Yunupingu on didgeridoo.
Next came a traditional Yirrkala dance, performed by Janet and Djakapurra Munyarryun and several women members of Bangarra.
For me, the strong emotional and spiritual experience for which Bangarra is becoming renowned was kicked off with the third act — Sidney Saltner's solo performance, Foil.
A fusion of sinuous modern dance moves with traditional overtones, it was like watching an Olympic gymnast doing a graceful floor routine. The stage acts as a magnet for the dancer, who is repeatedly drawn down to a horizontal position in symbolic acknowledgment of revered Mother Earth.
The dance moves for Foil were impressively combined with rich and empathetic music by composer David Page and subtle, dramatic lighting against an incredible backdrop of camouflage netting.
In the second act, singer/guitarist Leah Purcell presented the fusion of traditional and contemporary urban Aboriginal and Islander experience. Accompanied by musician Murray Cook, Purcell began with a country and western-style tune of her own, which ended in Aboriginal language.
Without skipping a beat, she then launched into an impassioned rendition of a Melissa Etheridge cover. Purcell's fusion of American and Australian music cultures, and black and white, flowed naturally and was hugely entertaining.
A highlight in the acoustic sets was Kirk Page, who, accompanied on piano, worked his vocal magic on a Stevie Wonder medley.
Then there were the comic performances that inspired plenty of hearty, side-splitting laughs. "See, we can laugh at ourselves", explained the hilariously bawdy Western Australian comedian, Ningali Josie Lawford, whose routine involving drunk uncles and Aboriginal bigamy paid about as much attention to political correctness as a Hansonite — except Lawford is funny.
Lillian Crombie was another comic highlight, with her sequined send-up of "I Will Survive", one of several acts paying homage to famous black American performers. Crombie's rendition of "Survive", together with the glittering black drag song and dance act by "Tina Turner and the Tinettes", showcased the artistic possibilities created by combining "contemporary urban indigenous experience" with a good pinch of black Aussie humour.
That Black Vine III was able seamlessly to blend spiritual indigenous song and dance with the music and rhythms of the modern black urban experience attests to the diversity and breadth of vision of the Aboriginal and Islander arts community.
It's also a tribute to the political power of the arts. The politics of this event shone through, not in angry words, but by virtue of the jubilant Aboriginal spirit.
Watch out Johnny Howard and Co. — Black Vine III organiser Stephen Page is one Aboriginal person who's relaxed and comfortable with his place in modern-day Australia. And you can bet he'll be infecting a lot more white Australians with his vision of how the Aboriginal spirit will be kept alive.