From the opening moments of choreographer Elle Sofe Sara’s Vástádus eana – The Answer Is Land, presented as part of Harbourfront Centre’s Torque series, there is a palpable sense of protest. From the start, it disrupts theatrical convention. Even the mundane act of entering the theatre is expanded here into a communal journey. With the performance beginning outside in the courtyard, the seven dancers, with megaphones in hand, chant and gesture towards the surrounding sky and land before leading us into the theatre through the backstage.
As we make our way across the stage and down into the house to take our seats, our anticipation and sense of engagement are piqued. The whole space is eerily lit with the sombre orange glow from what seems like sodium vapour lamps, establishing an atmosphere that is both calming and uncanny. After the performers make direct and prolonged eye contact with us, familiar theatrical trappings begin to creep into the performance, easing us into a more traditional dance-work experience.
Though the stage is mostly empty, with the bare walls of the theatre and rigging in full view, there is a towering set of draped fabrics in varied textures, from fuzzy quilt to smooth satin. This abstracted structure, designed by Elin Melberg, seems to change shape and meaning as its overall impression shifts under Øystein Heitmann’s lighting—an evocation of both hanging foliage and torn viscera.
Rhythmic stomping, hands pumped up in solidarity—the dancers invite us to bear witness to elements of traditional Sámi culture. Our own history is echoed here as the Sámi people, an Indigenous community inhabiting northern Norway and adjacent Scandinavian nations, have had their language and heritage suppressed by a residential school system. Sámi women, their bond to each other and the earth, are the thematic heart of the piece.
The polyphonic vocal work is particularly astonishing, a steady and resonant engine at the core of the performance. Though this is a highly stylized work, there are some very raw and humanistic aspects that pierce through the finely wrought artifice. The sound of laboured breath is a highlight, as are some convincingly urgent and authentic moments of distress. As one woman goes through a violent episode, another woman holds her hand while simultaneously cupping her own mouth in empathetic mortification.
Throughout, the seven women are distinctly attentive, aligned and consoling. The air is charged with their shared energy and purposeful momentum. The finale—a haunting sequence in which their voices trail off in the distance as they leave the theatre—is potent and beautiful.


