The simplicity of its pedestrian actions add and emphasize the reality of DV8’s themes and literal purposes allowing the audience to relate and comment freely to a piece that doesn’t masquerade the unrefined elements of (natural) human behaviour.
As a twitching, anxious man grips a microphone, the others caress their glasses, lifting them up and bringing them to their lips – sometimes crouched, sometimes missing their mouths but always portraying the simple action of drinking and always, ultimately portraying the behaviour of a typical ‘man’.
Meanwhile, an unshaven twenty something, sporting nothing but a pair of boxer shorts pulls his date on top of him, fondles her naked body, her legs flapping in excitement only to be disturbed by the telephone. It’s his other date. They are both silent. Turning up the music to a thudding beat he slithers onto the floor, joining his playful blonde...inflatable doll. This neurotic and dark scene of foreplay is both clever and funny, yet slightly moving as we are to realize that this dancer prefers the company of a doll to the female on the telephone. As the audience, we feel as if we are an intruder; trespassing on an act of desperate sex, creating apprehension and awkwardness. DV8 are not subtle in portraying their political issues and messages – the sexual actions are blunt and crude; the lengthening and stretching of the dancer’s body hinting at an erection, sexual positions being formed and the fumbling, rolling and childish banter making the doll appear to be real.
Downstairs in a ‘land of lager’, everyday body language is exploited with the dancers hurling themselves at one another, toppling, writhing and rolling whilst balancing their godly pints – not spilling a drop. These pints are a motif for masculinity, a blanket for the men to hide behind, assuring themselves of their sex. They depict their vulnerable masculinity whilst the physical closeness in some of the dancers generates an idea of intimacy.
There is, undoubtedly, tension within their movements; an almost violent, unsettling tension as two of the men fold around each other on the floor - eye to eye, chest to chest -locked in this squirming position, juggling and competing for the pint. Lloyd Newson states that: ‘a dancer may fling their legs wide open which to them is just a technical event but for the audience, can have emotional, sexual and psychological implications’. As an audience member I feel that DV8 were very aware of this fact, and their intention is enormously lucid. Each and every movement seemed to have purpose and was one ‘link’ that added and supported its ‘chain’, completing a strong and incredibly powerful theme.
In front of a mirror, a circus of preening men fix their hair, fold their collars, dust their chests, each circling one another in a meandering formation as the pedestrian movements are taken out of their natural state. They strut, they smoke, they scrap – all stylized stereotypes of the modern man. In a group of monophonic actions, the men huddle in a tight cluster, swaggering in sync and puffing away at their cigarettes in a very sensual and stylized movement. As two of the eight dancers tumble over pool tables, chairs and tables they lift and hold the other displaying an erotic and edgy ‘pas de deux’ in an unorthodox look at male bonding.
‘Enter Achilles’ is a piece that demands ensemble acting of great authenticity to present the identity, sexual and social issues which is one of DV8’s greatest strengths. The reactions to a male who is not as jerky but lyrical in his movement, not as slouchy but poised in his posture and not as bold as the other dancers (inevitably one of the many outsiders in the piece) is pure comedy; typical behaviour of the modern (homophobic) man. At no point is it suggested that he is homosexual so not only is it a test for society towards homosexuals, but also the straight mans interpretation of what makes a man. He is singled out; a technique highlighted by the camera angle and strips to reveal a ‘superman’ costume – a witty stunt emphasizing the male ego. This proves to show society’s response to homosexuality; men in particular. Another ‘outsider’ of the group joins in the tactless, bantering attack on this one man, adjusting his own behaviour to avoid confrontation and fit in.
DV8’s movement in ‘Enter Achilles’ is strict yet casual, nervous yet blunt, and shocking yet stereotypical – just as planned.
Lloyd Newson fixates a spotlight on the world as it really is, where men touching each other consists of a pat on the back or a punch in the face, a world where men express themselves through grabbing their crotch, making a pass at women and tossing back pints to a unison of boos and curses as England miss a penalty.
A world where although not all men act in this way, it is most definitely the impression society has of ‘lads’, and a stereotype that most men feel they must live up to in order to secure the image of a man.
‘Enter Achilles’ is a wonderfully comic and sharp look at the world of a man, with phrases that are breathtaking, lifts that are staggering and moments of pure bliss where the audience were not sure whether to offer a gasp or a giggle.