A few months ago I went to New York, where I drank my weight in boozy cocktails, devoured the best steak I’ve ever tasted and witnessed the most utterly soul-shaking show of my life. I thought it was so good that I demanded my wonderful friend Reda Wigle get on down to see Fuerza Bruta the next time she was in town.
In only a way that she knows how, she wrote this review and sent it my way. All words and images courtesy of the lovely lady herself.
Fuerza Bruta NYC is a pure dripping, gun-shot firing, drum beating, sex soaked, mermaid writhing, existential dance party. It’s also one hell of a way to spend a Sunday night. Born in Buenos Aires and performed in NYC since 2007, the off broadway post-modern show and its experiential acrobatics have earned it comparisons to Cirque du Soleil. While the latter focuses on themes like aquatics and the Beatles oeuvre, Fuerza Bruta plays out like a DMT trip with set design by Wayne Coyne.
There is no fixed stage or dialogue and the crowd is asked to stand and move around the space, cattle style, throughout the performance, eliminating the divide between spectator and performer. The multi sensory show opens with a trio of drummers pounding and singing something akin to a primordial death metal percussion version of the Lion King. Seemingly out of nowhere a collective mass of five suspended performers take a pendulum swing above the audience, exploding in a mix of confetti and strobe lights, like a mutant Hieronymous Bosch painting vaulted into flesh by house music. And that, my friends, is only the first six minutes.
Highlights include a man being shot on a treadmill while dodging office furniture, blooming Warhol worthy foil clouds, a balls-out sprinklers on rave hosted by a DJ in a George Washington wig and my personal favourite, four women on a suspended rubber sheet alternating between the most artful game of slip and slide in human record and a thrashing rage fuelled aerial sea nymph drum circle.
It would spoil all the fun to detail every sensory experience Fuerza Bruta NYC has in store but I will tell you this, I left the theatre soaking wet, covered in confetti, sweat and riotous joy.