CAPSULE: Spear (2016, Dir. Stephen Page)

Contemporary dance as an art form has never really been well serviced by cinema. Perhaps the two mediums aren't well suited, at least in their most recognisable forms. Contemporary dance struggles with film's need to dissect the visual space; film struggles with contemporary dance's obscure narratives and reliance on physical expression. That's not to say it hasn't been attempted, Wim Wenders' kinetic 3D tribute to Pina Bausch jerks erratically to mind.

Though it may not be as polished (or as gimmicky) as Wenders' film, Stephen Page's Spear, his cinematic encapsulation of the Bangarra Dance Theatre that he has been artistic director of for the past 25 years, strikes a better marriage between the two media. I'm not saying that makes Page's film an easy watch (it isn't and it isn't on multiple levels), but neither is contemporary dance for the uninitiated. Nor pure cinema for that matter.

Spear, then, is an exercise in physical, visual and auditory expression. It is non-prescriptive. It is experiential. It builds on our disparate collective consciousness - which is to say black, white and in between, there is a different film in here for everyone, one that may well be confronting.

Page's preoccupations are both direct and difficult. Spear is no celebration of Indigenous culture, be it dance or art. This is a violent expression of the pressures pushing down on a group of defiant culture bearers, viewed through the eyes of a young man across two lives - urban and remote. Page is not at all interested in romanticising contemporary Aboriginality. He hurls indignity and disenfranchisement at the screen in an attempt to cut through art's beautifying distance. The most piercing, Aaron Pedersen's vituperous street prophet, spits accusations as white men blindly strut past, cuts deep into contemporary Australian race relations. Another routine, played for black comedic laughs, rips into the lazy Aboriginal stereotypes picked up by white cultural institutions and by proxy the wider, white population.

Page's accusatory choreography brings biting immediacy to Spear, which will hopefully transcend the   lack of verbal language. Page and his group have a lot to say. It is something that Australia needs to listen to. You should be part of the audience.

★★★☆

Trailer: