At The Source Theatre, Jefferson Pinder and a team of physical performers will train their bodies through frenetic sequence in This Is Not A Drill. Preparing to engage with the demons of past and present day, The Middle Passage Guerilla Theatre Company probes into close-order drill, shooter drills, boxing, and Bo staff training to delve into communal strength. These performers are on the ready to explore sites of violence and injustice. Considering training techniques used by the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee, The Black Panther Party, and Marine Corps hand-drill training, the performance crew finds unity through ritualized physical routines. Based on historic techniques of martial empowerment, figures will be in constant motion, preparing for inevitable conflict. As the performers grapple with their own endurance and unite in the face of racial divides, the audience will be confronted with the intensity of this struggle.
The reputation of Goat Island in the performance community is legendary. Over the last eight years I’ve reading about their work in relation to physical theatre and performing failure. When I was tasked with exploring the work, “How Dear to me The Hour Daylight Dies”, I found tremendous influence in the choreography of the piece and how the group worked together as a unit. Through specific routine, the troupe pounded the gymnasium floor in chaotic unison and grasped the meaning of each individual moment. In heroic demeanor, the group seemingly unravels the truths of being. This is what inspires me about their work. In real time, and through the body they are methodically tackling, in soft-precision, the potential of four bodies working together to modestly demystify the complex rhythms of life.