Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui's Tezuka. Photo courtesy of Hugo Glendinning.

Imagine Walt Disney doing a story about priest and a psychopath in a backdrop of a chemical warfare experiment gone awry, shared one of the performers. Of course you can’t. He’s not Osamu Tezuka. Without a doubt, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui’s homage to the Japanese godfather of manga is a visual stunner. A biography sifted through his most important works and characters, and presented as a multi-media experience, Tezuka is a bibliographic universe come to life. Astro Boy, Black Jack, Buddha, Insect Woman, Father Garai and Michio (the two aforementioned dudes-with-a-twisted-relationship in the series MW), and even Tezuka himself, wearing a beret and spending most of the time with his back to the audience “working”—all are present and accounted for (I don’t think I saw Kimba, though) as the stage literally became a comic book. It was enough to make this comic book geek drool: Comic strips whizzing past, blown up comic book panels falling on dancers, panels moving around and manipulated by performers like how you would on iPad comic readers, word balloons and sound effects exploding onscreen as performers battle it out onstage. The visual impact of Tezuka is, for me, its greatest strength. And as an absolutely essential element of a piece about a visual art medium, it's mindblowing. That said, I’m of two minds about the rest. It is a work painstakingly created by an obviously hardcore fan. And hardcore fans tend to gush and go on and on (as my colleagues can attest whenever someone brings up Lord Of The Rings or the Justice League). This can pose a slight problem if you consider Cherkaoui’s strategy behind the piece, which is to create a portrait of Tezuka by way of his life story as well as the perceived autobiographical/thematic connections with his characters/series and with Japanese history (the A-bomb in WWII, the Tohoku earthquake in 2011)—while at the same time continuously negotiating the relationship between the two-dimensional form of manga and a dance performance. There’s a lot to love about the piece, to be fair. For one, where else can you see a dance piece that gives a lecture on luminescent bacteria? Aside from Tezuka’s love for science, there are also other precious insights into his art-making: the backstory behind MW, for example, in the darker second act, reveals Tezuka’s exploration of themes like homosexuality. There’s also a constant dialogue between manga and calligraphy, and dance: Cherkaoui’s angular movements echoing the comicbook panels, more fluid ones that of Tezuka’s fluid drawings and of writing itself. But it is when one stands back and thinks of what has just transpired that one wonders what it tries to say about Tezuka. Here, Osamu Tezuka is put on a pedestal. But the thing is, he’s already an artist of the highest degree. When the show reveals just how complex and important his works are, I can’t help but think that it’s something that’s already a given—or should be. Yes, I know I’m this close to reverse snobbery, but given just how much the comic book art form is such an integral part of popular culture and high art these days (comic book movie adaptations, Superflat, the world-wide appeal of anime, etc), I  can’t help but feel that the show is skewed towards showing that Tezuka does indeed belong in the pantheon of Important Artists. There’s a sense of reverence in this portrait of Tezuka that doesn’t completely sit well with me. I suspect it really has to do with Cherkaoui’s strong attachment to the artist, his work, and to the piece itself. After all, he grew up watching Astro Boy, loves his comics, and personally experienced the trauma of the Japanese earthquake while making Tezuka. Given all that, I guess you can’t really fault him for creating such a verbose, rambling love letter.

*** Again, it’s probably unfortunate that, like last week, I’ve watched a big Japanese dance piece after watching a student showcase, because this time, I’m manga-ed out. I do wonder if, logistical issues aside, it’d be better to watch the regular student showcases together. This is the second consecutive year I’ve caught both LASALLE’s and NAFA’s shows and the differences between their visions of what dance is is quite clear and I think it’d make for some interesting post-show discussions. This year’s The Third Space from NAFA seems more to my liking than last year’s edition, where I sort of grumbled about some of the pieces’ approach to Asian fusion. There’s a certain specificity in the four works, each of which are clear about taking off from their respective Malay/Indonesian, Indian and Filipino take-off points. Aida Redza’s Unearth Guna-Guna (which apparently means something magical) evokes unearthly sensations with performers almost animalistic as they crouched or lurched about, or slapping themselves forcefully. Young choreographer Yuteka Trripati’s short piece, Harijansaar, meanwhile tackled the Untouchable caste (not quite crazy about the use of poles but the idea behind the piece itself is something noteworthy). Filomar Tariao’s Banwa, meanwhile, does incorporate a kind of hybrid representation of North and Southern Philippine dance tradition (something I’m not comfortable with, but non-Filipinos probably won’t be privy to) but at its core, it’s a pretty straightforward work has no pretensions of being anything other than what it is: an ethnicised modern ballet narrative. The strongest for me has to be Kavitha Krishnan’s Interface. Primarily because of the first part, which comes across like mini-studies on Indian classical dance gestures, occasionally interrupted by the chaos-figure of a dancer who cheekily interrupts proceedings with her own, more modern, more fluid movements. PS, for some strange reason, I had this weird thought while watching Unearth Guna-Guna. Seeing as how it's Halloween and all, the image of Michael Jackson's Thriller came to mind. Wouldn't it be interesting to have some kind of series where MTV video choreographies are revisited and interpellated? It's been a while since the festival has done something along the lines of hip-hop (that would be Wade Robson from last century right?). Thriller, Rhythm Nation, Madonna, MC Hammer...  After you've finished laughing, think about it. Conceptually, wouldn't that be a killer of a show? (There's still a 5pm Tezuka show on Sunday. Details here.)