Review - Dance Nation at the Almeida Theatre

What is unique, or universal, about teenage girls studying dance? Why is it so fascinating?

Claire Barron's new play Dance Nation at the Almeida opens in the studio of 'Dance Teacher Pat', somewhere in West Pennsylvania. Trophies adorn the upper level of the set, an oppressive reminder of past glories. Reflective curtains and ceiling-high mirrors shape the stage. We follow the trials and tribulations of a group of 13-year-old girls, and one boy, as they navigate rigorous dance training alongside all the other changes and challenges of puberty. 

Barron evidently thought the teenage dance experience would make an interesting plot for a play, pitting the close female friendships of the dance crew against the inevitable competition for the lead role, all set against a backdrop of the total agony of being 13. It works, in a cacophony of painful, nostalgia-twinging, hilarious and sad scenes that sometimes feels a bit too much. So many different experiences are presented on stage in a production in director Bijan Sheibani's production, albeit in a DIY way, with performers doing set changes and changing costume on stage, loud music signifying a change in scene.

One of the most noteworthy aspects of this play is that the 13-year-olds are written to be played by adults who look like adults (not an actor in their twenties who could pass for a young Juliet). If occasionally I was distracted by a voice that was supposed to be child-like and wound up a bit jarring, it was mostly easy to accept that you were watching adults, not pubescent girls, and allow the scenes and content to be the focus. If anything, it allowed a bit of suspended disbelief to be held back. In reviewing a production of Dennis Potter's Blue Remembered Hills, which employs the same technique, Peter Bradshaw asserted that "Adult actors can make children's pain brutally and tactlessly real to an audience which wants to forget what being a child was actually like." The sense of personal nostalgia and reminiscent pain is amplified by the fact that you are watching someone who looks like you, who has come out the other side and is looking back too.

If you are an up-and-coming actor, you'll want a Claire Barron monologue under your belt for your portfolio. Each one was just perfect for that character, delivered with strength and intelligence by every performer. Kayla Meikle's delivery of Ashlee's monologue was a beacon in the middle of the play, charting a journey through the conflicting thoughts and understanding of a 13-year-old girl's daily experiences. Teenagers are generally the object of comedy in a drama, which is odd when you consider that they take themselves deadly seriously. Not so here. Everything they felt was real, true; designed to be taken at face value.

This is not a drama seeking to fuel the idea that girls are inherently 'bitchy'. In their confusion over changes to their lives, experiences and their bodies, the characters are very supportive of each other, with little shame. There was an amazing moment involving a battle cry and some menstrual blood, uniting the dance troupe in the face of adversity. You'll have to see it for yourself, I wouldn't want to ruin it.

My teenage memories and key formative experiences of puberty are tightly woven with my study of dance: I am biased. I wonder if my sense that it was all a bit too close to home was echoed by the audience members who didn't study dance to a serious level, that the ideas and feelings presented are universal. I do hope so.

Dance Nation is at the Almeida Theatre until 6th October.