‘Garabari’: A Powerful, Pulsing Ritual That Compels You To Move
Image: Garabari at Sydney Opera House. Source Supplied. Credits: Stephen Wilson Barker
Garabari, the latest work from award-winning choreographer Joel Bray and BlakDance, refuses to be a passive experience. It hums through your body, imploring you to move with it. Performed by a troupe of six or seven powerful dancers swathed in white by designer Denni Francisco, this contemporary corroboree blends animalistic grace, First Nations tradition, and modern dance.
The resulting fusion is fluid, instinctive, and utterly compelling.
The piece begins as clacks, growls, bird calls, and hoots ripple through Sydney Opera House’s outdoor space. Performers shift from fluid sculptures into a single gathering, bodies writhing low to the ground, before snapping into jagged shapes, and weaving between audience members and across three stages with playful intent.
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They move in small packs, yet each carries their own energy, clearly delighting in one another.
Created from over a decade of retracing Wagga Wagga and the Riverina, Bray sets out to carry forward his Wiradjuri ancestors through a corroboree that endures and transcends.
From this journey, the Story of the Making of the Murrumbidgee–gifted by the late Uncle James Ingram of the matriarchal Goanna clan–became the piece’s core.
Past the more formal but nonetheless impressive first half, the line between performer and observer dissolves: you’re already part of Garabari.
Techno-infused rhythms by Byron Scullin pulse through the space, shifting ceremony into a club-like dancefloor just as audience participation becomes central. The atmosphere exhales bated breath as the Dreaming story unfolds and lightning flashes punctuate projections.
Dancers coax the audience to wave a hand on their head like a cockatoo and poke at the air like an emu.
By the time the lazy kangaroo takes a seat–scratching, gazing at ancestors in the night sky–for anyone hesitant, everything clicks as the crowd surrenders to the sweeping rhythm and joy of the show.
While exhilarating, the moving-stage format can feel disorienting, occasionally obscuring action. But it becomes clear as part of the experience: the work demands attention and openness, rewarding with a sense of collective immersion.
Vivid lighting and striking projections by Katie Sfetkidis guide wandering eyes effectively, from serene warmth to electrifying flashes, while the score rises from deep, thrumming rhythms to a driving, industrial surge reminiscent of a Nine Inch Nails score.
The music carries momentum beautifully, though the mid-section briefly lulls when audience interaction stabilises. Still, the dancers’ charisma and enthusiasm reignite the crowd with call-backs, carrying the space into a final eruption of movement and celebration.
Everything resolves in a seated hum beneath dimming lights and the night sky. The recurring Giilang song of Marramalngidyal Marrambidyagu grounds the performance, providing a visceral reminder of the story at the heart the corroboree.
Garabari is a primal, explosive, and singular celebration. It’s ambitious, with small technical costs for a performance that feels deeply alive. The dancers’ passion, presence, and collective energy make it a moving, musical marvel—one that asks as much of its audience as it gives.
Garabari ran at Sydney Opera House as part of Sydney Festival, with more shows at Wollongong Town Hall and Dapto Ribbonwood Centre on February 6, 7 and 14.
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