A sense of sensivity

B-Floor's latest performance “(In) Sensitivity” is dance movement therapist Dujdao Vadhanapakorn Boonyai’s response to the emotional numbness of contemporary society. While the concept might be a trifle hackneyed, the provoking and visually arresting presentation pierces both the hearts and minds of the audience.
Once seated in Pridi Banomyong Institute’s Crescent Moon Space, the audience is asked to follow chains of elastic bands into the B-Floor Room a few steps away. Here, they find the ends of the chains attached to three performers silhouetted against bright spotlights. Slowly moving towards the audience, they reveal their stunned expressions as they peel off the outer layers of their clothes, sending them flying out of the room with the release of the bands.
In their first group sequence, the performers demonstrate how immune we are to what goes on around us, walking around like wind-up dolls, repeating pedestrian movements to reverberating mechanical sounds. Projected on to the white walls behind them are images of water running upwards against nature. Also standing there as if to mock the performers are three wooden chairs in knitted clothes that they push around and dance lifelessly with.
The next few segments feature each performer as he and she struggles through different forms of confinement and release. Oranong Thaisriwong breaks free from the enslavement of light boxes as the robotic music switches to an African inspired tune with upbeat drums. Shiny red sequins fall from the ceiling, showering her in a dance of frenzy. But she ends up crawling back into the boxes, as positive words spoken meaninglessly in a cold voice echo in the room.
Thanapol Virunhakul lies face down amidst fine grains of flour, plastic nets hovering above his lifeless body, as if he’s at the bottom of the sea. He wakes to his own memories of suppressed emotions and the insensitivity towards his feelings leads him to explode into wild jumps before he is suddenly paralysed, his leg lifted to the front to reveal the muscle tension. In another room, Dujdao climbs and falls over metal structures resembling roofs as the other performers pull on a loose strand of her knitted dress. They appear completely unaware of the sadness in her recorded voice as she tells herself that she at least has a happy home.
The next scene yanks me out of my immersion in the show. The performers gather around projected reels of natural disasters and torture, telling each other that they cannot feel anything. They then put elastic chains around each other, stretching and snapping them on bare legs and arms before handing the chains over to the perplexed audience. The physical tension is released as they start talking about their emotions while the other performers write their words on their bodies.
For a while here, the show seems contrived and manipulative. Although most audience members, myself included, make a point of letting go of the elastic bands as gently as we can, my impression is that I am being forced to feel for others through a fear for their safety. The show, I decide, is being insensitive to my feelings.
In the last scene, the performers are stripped down to their underwear and suspended mid-air in challenging positions. A man with a microphone starts asking them personal questions, inviting the audience to scribble the feelings they sense in the air on the performers’ bodies with eyebrow pencils. Still overwhelmed by the last scene, I find myself writing “restless” and “tense” as I hear the performers answer their questions in monotonous, patchy voices.
But it is also at this point that relief suddenly floods through me. As I let go of the negative feelings, my mind drifts back to the scene where the performers exploded earlier, and I understand how important it is to respect and express one’s own feelings. I am also much more relaxed and no longer feel manipulated. Sitting on the floor, I look up and let myself go as the show ends beautifully with a range of emotions that float freely in the room.

MAGIC IN THE MOVEMENTS
 “(In) Sensitivity” runs until tomorrow at the Pridi Banomyong Institute on Thong Lor. Shows are at 7.30 nightly.
Tickets cost Bt450. Call (089) 167 4039 or e-mail bfloortheatre@gmail.com.