Somewhere in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, a veritable earthquake strikes. For a few exceptional performances, the interiors of the Théâtre National de la Danse Chaillot, a true temple of this art, are transformed into a darkened studio, lit only by the soft glow of translucent, pastel-colored neon lights. Beneath these beams of light, one, two, three, no, 17 dancers move in unison under the skillful and precise direction of their conductor, choreographer and director Rafael Bonachela. This group of about twenty individuals, with their fluid bodies and seemingly light appearance, together form the renowned Sydney Dance Company, Australia's largest contemporary dance company. These highly skilled dancers are brought together as a single tableau in a performance entitled ab [intra], meaning "from within" in Latin. An enigmatic, almost mythical name for an hour or so of technical and physical prowess, which draws its appellation from the very construction of the choreography: “The starting point of the creation was a series of improvisations where I asked the dancers to be together in the moment, to feel and listen, to follow their intuitions and impulses, and then to try to put these moments into writing. These written phrases served as a guiding thread for the sequence of movements, the dance score, the transfer of energy from thought to body,” declared the company director.

A quest for the present moment, an anchoring in passing, unfolding time, like a final effort to capture what truly matters. This performance of unprecedented grace, Rafael Bonachela conceived as a transfer of energy between the inner and outer worlds, drawing upon his own natural and personal human instincts. A creative process whose secret he alone possesses, resulting in an implosion, a veritable cataclysm of emotions and unspoken phrases, like a grand poetry of words without uttering them. While the curtain rises on almost muted music, the dancers subsequently move to and fro to the rhythm of Nick Wales's lyrical and original compositions. From one scene to the next, the accents of a cello, drawn from a composition by Peteris Vask, resonate with the bodies and hearts of these virtuoso performers, like so many sensitive strings in a splendid choreography that gives voice to the impulses of these young tightrope walkers, their bodies a single entity. Like an opera in several acts, the performance begins with a discreet and languorous ensemble, before unfolding into a few triumphant duets and trios brimming with vital energy, arranged like an inverted mirror. Breathtaking ensembles, oscillating between perfect synchronization and the explosion of primal instincts, punctuate this delightful whirlwind of perfectly controlled lighting, in which it is impossible not to participate. Flexibility, concentration, and uncommon strength serve an athletic and sensual gestural language of formidable precision, which shines in duets reminiscent of Greek tragedies and resurfaces in passionate ensembles. A fluid, skillful, and sensual ballet, like a gentle invitation to explore the depths of human experience without ever uttering a word.