But while the division between man and nature is clearly delineated through action, environment and costume, there is no hint of characterisation. Both groups function as if compelled by some external force rather than acting according to their own will. Man moves in grotesque, angular and jerky fashion, while the water creatures slither, their gestures awkward but fluid, their actions gymnastic. The solid floor erupts as Hydra bursts through, and massive chunks are thrust aside or up-ended to form vertical structures upon which to cling. Water gushes in and becomes a part of the action, as the protagonists splash, fall, and struggle, through various relationships - attraction, opposition, violence and very briefly tenderness, the last an unusual gesture for Obarzanek, whose work has consistently been characterised by violence.
Water is never an easy medium to work with in the theatre.
The modular platform is designed to be functional rather than aesthetic. Its features however, are changed and enhanced through the lighting design, which signals a change in the emotional state of play, and paints the setting to reinforce the action. The performance opens to a new score by Darrin Verhagen, a frequent composer for dance. It is the type of score we have come to expect for Obarzanek's work. But it is counterbalanced by the hauntingly simple structure of James Gordon-Anderson's score, which accompanies the second half of the work, with live performances from pianist Michael Kieran Harvey and violinist Miwako Abe who serve as a bridge linking the changing states between the two forces.