The lights come up to funky music as a frontline of five performers start an inexorable march upstage. Slowly, they remove random items from the folds of their costumes, chucking them unceremoniously onto the floor: a glove, a toy doll, a book, a ribbon, a plastic bag, a bottle. The apparent absurdity moves the audience to laughter, but the artists’ facial expressions are deadly serious. As the advance continues, the objects become larger and more bizarre: the contents of a suitcase, the case itself, a mechanical dog.
We are transported to the ocean by the sound of lapping water and a foghorn. A super soaker joins the stockpile of debris, and we hear children playing on a beach, a fun-fair and fireworks. Until gradually, the cacophony morphs into gunshots and explosions.
When they reach front-stage, the dancers pitch headfirst into darkness. No one is laughing anymore. Instead, we are compelled to reflect on a society intent on its own destruction.
Greta Bourke
An album cover depicting five cool kids from Production Xx comes to life and begins creeping forward, inch by inch, guided by a hollow urban soundscape. Dressed in oversized outerwear, the performers move with a clear sense of direction – straight ahead – towards which they obliviously yet inevitably push each other.
Gradually but firmly, they clutch onto one another as they reveal numerous everyday objects hiding in their costumes. From fruit, to paper waste, to plastic bags, to whipped cream, to a water gun – more and more junk keeps piling up. It’s as if the characters from The Breakfast Club are embarking on their doomsday walk in 2025.
Slow-motion creates an intriguingly unexplored contrast with the weight of the rubbish falling under gravity. The gang of Gush is Great reaches the anticipated crossing line__________
The question remains: are they, and are we, actually ready to take another step?
Kärt Koppel
Five figures in black and white oversized clothing stand before us, slightly frazzled, their gazes fixed into the distance. They wouldn’t look out of place outside a Berlin club or in a post-apocalyptic blockbuster.
They make their way toward the audience in slow motion, like protagonists leaving behind an explosion in a dramatic sequence. The blast, however, is yet to come.
From their sleeves, pockets, pant legs, and bosoms, the ‘shrapnel’ of our modern age emerges. It’s a seemingly endless stream of receipts, cans, books, a Barbie doll, a robotic puppy, and a first aid kit, topped with a package of flour spilling from their languid hands.
The Looney Tunes-esque scene unfolds over an intensifying soundscape, which shifts from music to waves lapping at the shore and a funfair, to war-like drumming. The stark juxtaposition lays bare the disarrayed world we find ourselves in.
Part commentary on generational anxiety, part ironic confrontation, Gush is Great pulls off a lot with very little. By falling flat on their face when they reach the edge of the stage, the performers ensure the piece – compact, concrete, short and sweet – soars.
Zala Julija Kavčič
Gush is Great, by the French group Production Xx, has the cinematic charm of action movies, with tough characters and the ability to keep you glued to the screen – or, in this case, to the stage. But instead of flamboyant, fast-paced scenes, it achieves its effect through slow, microscopic gestures.
The five performers walk in a compact line towards the front of the stage, while dropping objects extracted from their pockets and jackets. A smashed can, a notebook, a Barbie doll, a carrot pile up on the floor. We may think of consumerism and waste, but the contrast between this bizarre landfill and the cast’s serious faces can’t help but make us laugh.
These partners in crime act subtly, by unnoticeably passing objects to the next person. The score adds variation to the otherwise seamlessly dystopian atmosphere: from British pop to romantic French vibes, from chirping crickets to gun shootings and shouting. Slowness, as it turns out, can be funny, deep and smart. You end up gushing: it’s just great!
Marta Buggio