"The Herald"- Scotland's Independent Newspaper
Red Zone, Pleasance Two
Mary Brennan
WE have reached the circus at the end of the world. The drum-rolls sound like machine guns. The clowning is gladiatorial. The clowns themselves look curiously mutant - white-face was never meant to be like this. The more brutal and anarchic the mood, the more the (unseen, amplified) crowd roars and applauds.
This is how Derevo introduce us to the Red Zone. What follows is uneven, at times opaque, but curiously memorable: Butoh meets Bunuel, genders cross and perspectives tilt, exquisite fragile images are fleetingly created - sometimes by mirrors, sometimes by shadow play -and swiftly vanish, until one's thoughts are pushed into freefall. But always there's a melancholy sense of unspecified threat, perhaps echoing the group's own Russian roots and wandering existence, alongside a desperate, thrashing energy that is oddly moving because, like the performers, it seems impervious to common sense.
To the beginning...