Camden Fringe: Powerful and Unforgotten Voices in 'Uproar'

Image: Rieckhof/Silva Collective's Uproar

Protest, people, suffering - such are common themes that define the news headlines of the past and current decade. Marked by police brutality, the protests have spoken against Dina Boluarte’s government. Although the 2022-23 protests are seen as concluded, the aftermath and ongoing protests are under-discussed in the UK at present. It is a credit to the Rieckhof/Silva Collective and Camden Fringe that Peru’s tumultuous events are being examined from multiple angles through dance. Artistic director, choreographer and performer Moyra Silva and costume-prop designer Carolina Rieckhof, both Peruvian themselves, created Uproar in the loud vein its name suggests. Recordings and noise made by the performers and the audience uphold the unapologetic nature of protest, despite the attempt to silence action in Peru, and open the eyes of a British audience to a people fighting for their freedom and identity.

Bringing back the dead through testimonies of funeral attendees, Silva dons cloth masks with the faces of activists who gave their lives for their people. These faces are drawn on the cloth, almost cartoonish and childlike, producing eerie and surreal personalities that haunt the stage. Unblinking eyes stare into the audience, unsettling in their static expression. These ghosts have an inhuman edge that leaves an imprint on the mind, but it is this feeling of otherness that marks the formation of sympathy and curiosity towards Peru’s protests. Drawing the boundary between life and death for a cause that carries profound suffering, yet inviting outsiders to listen, connects people with events perhaps more intimately than what the written word alone can offer. 

Uproar is startlingly grounded in realism, but it has another face that is magical and ritualistic. Several other faces, in fact. Rieckhof’s costume designs birth many characters who cackle, fight and stamp Peru’s folk foundation onto the stage. Some characters are more abstract, like a figure hingeing forward from the hips so the skirt falls over their head, rhythmically twisting and stamping their feet. A fight packed with pantomime mischief ensues between a devilish monster with long fingers, horns and a cow-like face, and a hero with a white-painted face. The pair screech, money is thrown, the cow mask is pulled off and beaten as a pinata by various audience members. The hard political broaches the “what” - what is happening, what does death mean for a strong community? But the playful folkloric clarifies the “why” - why fight, why Peruvian identities (with a nod to Peru’s indigenous people) are so distinguishable. Open interaction ties these two opposing natures together making for an amusing but deeply provocative performance.

Indeed, participation unites everyone in the room. Noise makers made out of fabric, butter beans and ribbon are provided so we can shake them in time with the dancers. Unity through shared sound is arguably the fuel for protest and action, here it is a small taste of Peruvian community and identity. By leaning into the nature of protest, expressing identity through ritual and relaying lesser-heard stories, Uproar is a protest within itself. At a British fringe festival, Uproar’s reminder and exposure of Peru’s troubles marks the work as a strong political and artistic voice. Tragedies and people not often heard about are suddenly represented in an offer of connection, transforming a performance into an eye-opening experience based on empathy and learning.