Once the night sets in, boundaries begin to blur. Enticing, yet scary, frivolous with a sprinkle of danger, revealing but always ephemeral, it gathers silence and deafening music, calm and sweat, pleasure and violence. The night may usher in a potential for an assault on the daytime realities and a yearning for a paradigm shift. Its spirit can liberate the frenzy, sanctioned during the day. In Mette Ingvartsen’s Delirious Night, nine performers roam the No Man’s Land between the nighttime ambiguities and their messy, joyful, frantic, and at times desperate desire to let go and find ways to rebel together.
The setting immediately feels familiar. With its wooden platforms, a small stage for Will Guthrie’s drum set, light poles, and lines of colorful bulbs, spreading onto the stage and into ...
