Re:INCARNATION QUDUS ONIKEKU & THE QDANCE COMPANY – Nottingham Playhouse
This explosive production dives into the core of ancestral Yoruba tradition, exploring three pivotal and interlinked concepts: Birth, Death and Rebirth. Simultaneously, it celebrates the vibrancy of Nigerian youth culture — dance, music, and fashion. It’s a work born from six years of continuous movement research on body memory with young dancers in Lagos, since Qudus Onikeku’s return from Paris in 2014.

Unlike the linear progression of Western or Christian traditions, where life unfolds towards an ultimate end, Yoruba tradition is cyclical. It endlessly loops between birth, death, and renewal.
The show opens with Birth. It’s an explosion of life. Ten dancers dress on a black-box stage in a kaleidoscopic clash of colours and fabrics. They move with a syncopated rhythm, jerky and individualistic yet somehow in unison. The intense music is performed live by two musicians using a mix of instruments and recordings. The music, more soundscape than a soundtrack, pulls from a rich mix of genres — Afrobeats, soul, funk, hip-hop, and traditional African sounds. At times, the intensity of sound is overwhelming, adding to the intense atmosphere that fills the stage.

©Tristram Kenton
There’s a tangible sense of Lagos’ urban chaos here. The dancers, full of energy and bravado, slip, slide, and swirl in ever-shifting groups, chatting and cheering. Their voices weave into the soundscape, adding layers to the bustling energy of the city. Movements become flirtatious, playful, and ultimately carnal in a cartoonish celebration of sex, resulting in the creation of life.
The mood shifts. The second section, Death, is stark and haunting. Dancers, some bare-chested and smeared with ashy powder, move with a strange, animalistic otherworldly grace. Their bodies seem possessed by something primal, almost spiritual. Others, draped in an eerie combination of costumes formed of streetwear and long fringes, circle a dying man, thumping heavy staves in a ritualistic procession. It’s an unsettling yet dignified rite of passage. A symbolic journey into the afterlife, guided by ancestral spirits. The soundscape was very different in this section. It powerfully uses prolonged and disturbing periods of silence which add to the intensity

©Tristram Kenton 09-24
The final section is the most unexpected. A dancer begins by reciting lines: “To catch a fish, you need a bit of luck and a good bait” and “Rainwater is God’s water.” Meanwhile, the dancers smear their bodies in what appears to be black oil — a possible nod to Nigeria’s deep connection with crude oil. They move as one, their slick bodies shifting and gliding in an undulating, almost hypnotic display, which encourages individual dancers to shine. It feels at once ancient yet strikingly modern. Dressed in little more than the oil and black masks, the dancers embody the spirit of Lagos — dynamic, rooted in history, yet always evolving.
Re:INCARNATION is a deeply layered piece, and with more knowledge of Nigerian culture and Yoruba beliefs, it would offer an even richer experience. That said, the sheer physicality and beauty of the dancers is enough to captivate any audience. A day later I’m still thinking about the performances and the storytelling. The dancers pull you into a world where life, death, and rebirth are not separate states, but a continuous, fluid cycle — much like the city of Lagos itself.

