Perth festival 2023 opens to the world – with Aboriginal techno, the promise of Björk and uncomfortable truths

The thrum of bare feet pounding the earth erupts across the darkened theatre. Four women charge over the stage, eyes bright and defiant, whirling their limbs and hips as if made of liquid adrenaline. With each exultant gesture, each primal pulse, the women suspend a dream of freedom in the air – a vision of Africa without colonisation.

Bikutsi 3000, which had its Australian premiere at Perth festival, is an afro-futuristic performance by Cameroon artist Blick Bassy that packs a bold political punch: centring women as the agents of emancipation from Africa’s treacherous history of imperialism, with dance as their only weapon. Among the ensemble of African women are two local Aboriginal dancers, Liani Dalgetty and Kristyn Lane, who join in the celebratory march towards freedom.

“In many ways, the patriarchy has failed us,” Bassy says, speaking from his home in Bordeaux. “When I was writing this story, I wanted to create a world where women could lead Africa, not through violence, but by taking us back to our roots, our language, our traditional values … it’s about remembering who we are.”

The return of international shows like Bikutsi 3000 to Perth festival, which daringly ask us to reimagine global history, is a welcome shift after the fruitful but entirely homegrown Covid years. The 70th anniversary theme is Djinda, the Noongar word for stars, and this year Perth festival is opening its arms to stars from all over the world including Björk, the Icelandic pop icon bringing her immersive extravaganza Cornucopia; US band Kronos Quartet, who are collaborating with Noongar composer Maatakitj (Dr Clint Bracknell); Virginia Gay’s acclaimed retelling of the classic play Cyrano, presented by Melbourne Theatre Company; as well as a host of global literary and musical stars from poet Kae Tempest to Saharan psych-rock legends Mdou Moctar.

Björk is performing four shows for Perth festival this March. Photograph: Santiago Felipe/Getty Images for ABA

If the murmurs are true, the extraordinary cost of presenting Björk resulted in a pared-back program this year – but even so, what it does offer is certainly world-class, and the people of Perth are embracing it. The fourth program curated by the artistic director, Iain Grandage, is a continuation of his emphasis on First Nations truth-telling; the bedrock of the festival which, he says, has a deeply grounding impact and allows other artists to feel comfortable in telling their stories.

This approach is exemplified in Djoondal, the free opening event taking place at Lake Joondalup, a place steeped in ancient dreaming stories of the cosmos, which is described by Noongar people as their “mirror to the stars”. Enveloping audiences in a hypnotic bubble of light, dancing drones and pulsating Aboriginal techno beats, Djoondal breathes new life to the story of the spirit woman with the long white hair who created the milky way, and whose name lives on in Joondalup.

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Created by a team of artists led by Ian Moopa Wilkes, the brains behind last year’s Perth festival performance Noongar Wonderland, Djoondal adopts a Noongar-futurism approach – a mode of storytelling which expresses Indigenous perspectives of the past and the future, often reimagining a reality in alignment with ancient knowledge.

While comparisons may abound with Ilona McGuire’s Moombaki, the ultra-slick Noongar storytelling drone show by presented by the Fremantle Biennale, Djoondal sets out to achieve something entirely different. It gathers together the past and the future in a tough knot of wonder, splicing ancient practices with contemporary challenges and leaving audiences to ponder how Indigenous knowledge could vastly improve our future. As the young woman who gingerly addresses the audience at Djoondal’s conclusion says: “We are not the problem, we are the solution.”

Music of the Spheres, performed by the Western Australian Symphony Orchestra, as part of Perth festival. Photograph: Corey James

Presented at Perth Concert Hall, the Western Australian Symphony Orchestra’s Music of the Spheres is a decadent feast of classical arias and new works paying homage to universe. The shining star of the show is undoubtedly Gumbaynggirr and Yamatji woman Emma Donovan, whose rich, velvety jazz vocals are utterly disarming in such a formal setting. Her original piece, Yira Djinang, reflects First Nations’ cosmological wisdom and is sung partly in her father’s Noongar language: “Look up to the sky now … the place of the long silver hair.”

Another unassumingly magical performance comes from the WA Youth Theatre Company (WAYTCo) with Seven Sisters, a play performed under the cosmic veil of night, in which young actors grapple with the boundless nature of time and the weight of an uncertain future. Co-directed by emerging Noongar-Greek theatre maker Cezera Critti-Schnaars and the WAYTCo artistic director, James Berlyn, Seven Sisters will unfold over the four weekends of the festival, each at a different outdoor venue.

‘The future, isn’t young. It’s ancient’ … Seven Sisters. Photograph: Jess Wyld

The performance starts with a layered chorus of voices calling out their understanding of the Seven Sisters dreaming story. A young actor with cerebral palsy laments that if something as perfect and miraculous as the milky way exists, how can they live in the same universe? Another speaks of their angst at not fitting into their family, of being “a gay alien floating on a rainbow”, while one expresses their grief over a gnawing sense of disconnection from their homelands in the Congo and Tanzania.

A particularly poignant moment comes from Makaela Rowe-Fox who, instead of gazing at the black abyss above, looks straight ahead to an audience of primarily older theatregoers: “As easy as it might be to tell you about how beautiful the stars are, I can’t do that if I can’t fucking see them!” She talks of sky-glow obscuring the stars, about capitalism, the ecological crisis and, ultimately, the disproportionate pressure this places on young people. This uncomfortable truth hangs in the air.

“I’m sick of being told I’m the future. Like stars, old people are from the past but they’re also our future,” she calls out. “The future, isn’t young. It’s ancient.”