Innocence lost, maturity found

Age cannot wither, nor custom stale, the infinite expression of dance - which is just as well, as the City Contemporary Dance Company is presenting a triple bill frankly entitled Thirtysomething.

The Chinese title - 37.38.39 - is even more explicit, being the ages of the three choreographers ('in their prime', as the subtitle kindly puts it) responsible for the works.

Dancers, probably more than any other profession, hear the loud ticking of the physical clock, so Pun Siu-fai, 37, Mui Cheuk-yin, 38, and Zhang Xiaoxiong, 39, are addressing an issue of some personal relevance. The three look so bright-eyed and enthusiastic about their creativity, however, that they evidently are not burned-out cases.

'I think my life is just beginning,' says Mui with a smile. 'My life experience is so much more in my 30s. My 20s were safe, everything was smooth, but you can do more when you taste the bitterness of life . . . then the sweetness is more delicious.' In her work Between Bow and String, five women dance with five male dummies, playing them like cellos. Is this a depressing metaphor of the state of thirty-something male-female relationships? 'As it is improvisation, I invite the dancers to have their opinions,' Mui, who is single, explains.

'But you can see the difference in age in what they do with the dummies. A girl in her early 20s is more innocent and sweet. But some of the older ones are really, really violent. It's not the age, it's the experience. It's maturity.' Meanwhile, Pun's piece Nine Does Not Match Seven is concerned with memory and reality. In one section, a diver prepares to hurl himself from the springboard - he prances about, going through all the motions, but never takes that final leap.

'This is the way I see Hong Kong society, people keep talking but they never deliver,' Pun says. 'When I was 20, I couldn't have choreographed such a piece, at that time I was more concerned about Chinese novels. But in 1990, when I reached 30, I became interested in two motifs - memory and the city. People don't treasure their past here, they order their memories later, in the future. They deny, for example, that they went on a June 4 demonstration. They change what existed.' What makes that observation particularly poignant is that Zhang was born in Cambodia, a country which did deny its past with the terrible concept of Year Zero. As a child he never celebrated his birthday because the only individual worthy of that honour was Mao Zedong. When he was 12, he went to live alone in China.

'What I have learned from my life is not to plan things like a timetable,' he says. 'Unexpected things happen. I never thought that Cambodia, so beautiful, could be lost. Life was bitter but now I look back and I find a lot of treasure from the past - you see the friendship and the experience.' His work is the joyous, sensuous Unexpected Wind.