Simultaneously austere and chaotic, Labour has deceptively simple set-up. Presented by DanceWorks, this Parts+Labour production takes its time to capture our attention and, in a rather breathtaking finale, fully reward our investment. Jonathan Saucier’s set is an expanse of white that stretches across the stage and up the back. In contrast, four speakers seem to pop in the centre. A array of disparate props lay around—a bucket of KFC, one of Monster Energy Drink cans, and bags of random stuff gradually incorporated into the piece. (The toy baby was a bizarre and hilarious favourite of mine!)
Our five female-presenting performers (Brianna Lombardo, Maïka Giasson, Jossua Satinée, Lou-Anne Rousseau and Jo Laïny Trozzo Mounet) are dressed all in black—initially. At the top, they begin to sway subtly to Frannie Holder’s hypnotic techno score and, eventually, manifest a two-step that is repeated throughout as the quintet traverse the space en masse. It seems rather monotonous at first, but subtle shifts in the relentless, steady movement keep us alert as we track them. Articles of clothing are gradually discarded and tossed into a centre pile, revealing each figures’ individual style (an understated yet precise aspect of Saucier’s costuming).
I was quietly thrilled by how messy it gets as the performers negotiate cumbersome tasks—like taking off track pants and shoes while not breaking from the two-step formation. There is humour in this too, a self-aware amusement that resonates with the show’s motif of awkwardness intertwined with purposeful consistency. The balance of these seemingly discordant ideas is quite masterfully achieved in this concept by creators Emily Gualtieri and David Albert-Toth.
To my absolute delight, things get sweaty and greasy and absurd. By the time the fixed rhythm explodes in a wild rush of kinetic forward momentum, we feel as if we have endured an existential, visceral journey. There were some tears and hysterical laughter along the way, that’s how it goes as you plod your way through the work of life, existing as individuals and a collective.
Labour is a deeply compelling and ultimately exhilarating abstraction, a dance piece that feels somehow both anarchically raw and mechanical, always tapped into the pulse of its theme—womxn (as identified by the creators) finding and celebrating their frequently exploited, rarely acknowledged, collective power.


