That said, she and her co-performers—Sara Sinclair Gomez, Molly Pease and Kathryn Shuman—did not disappoint. Aided by film and video projections by Jennifer Bewerse, the 60-minute intermissionless work began in a form of stasis: a puffy white tarp was the only visible item on the REDCAT stage. Initially, this reviewer thought that the performers were perhaps underneath the prop and would emerge as if ancient Saber-toothed Cats bubbling up from the La Brea Tar Pits, as the prop, through filmed projections, became various and sundry landscapes: sand, a desert, fluctuating colors and shapes, several conjuring images of Pompei’s Mount Vesuvius and an end-of-earth scenario.
But no! This prologue, of sorts and sans visible performers, was, per the program notes, Kim’s “meditation on shape-shifting and collective intelligence.” Set to the live sounds of, among a slew of others, ahs, screeches, squeaks, peeps and chirps, remixed with electronics, the visual imagery was akin to a Wilsonian landscape, where time seemed to stand still, requiring viewers to settle back and not check cell phones, but go into contemplative mode.
Indeed, Kim listed seven sections, with such titles raging from “sand, skin, land, limb” to “ginkgo, growth, cycles, tree,” meaning that when the performers finally appeared, it was not, at least to this writer, unlike Stanley Kubrick’s opening segment, “Dawn of Man” from his masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Okay, well, perhaps it wasn’t that momentous, but it was certainly a relief, albeit a feeling also mixed with curiosity.
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