Review | Mr Blank 2.0 a dance piece that’s visually dazzling but feels bleak, brutal and voyeuristic

“These premises are under CCTV surveillance for your personal safety and security.” This ominous message on wall-mounted screens greets the audience in the auditorium of Kwai Tsing Theatre as they arrive to watch Mr Blank 2.0, by Hong Kong’s City Contemporary Dance Company (CCDC). When the curtain rises, the same words appear on the back wall of the stage. The visually dazzling dance work, with its use of multilayered video projections and intense performances, offers a bleak picture of a world from which basic humanity has disappeared. There is no denying its visceral power, but ultimately its lack of hope or possibility of redemption make it more a work of horror than a moral tale. Sang Jijia’s first creation since becoming CCDC’s artistic director at the beginning of 2025 is the latest permutation of a work originally staged in 2018, then again in 2020, and most recently in a film version in 2021. It is supposedly inspired by Paul Auster’s 2006 novel Travels in the Scriptorium, but the approach is different from that of the book. Auster has one man called Mr Blank trapped in a mysterious space, which may be a prison, a hospital or simply his own mind, where he encounters characters from the author’s other books. Sang, on the other hand, has 14 individuals trapped in an enclosed space and his theme is how everyone is constantly under observation in the modern world – and indeed may themselves become the observers. The space the performers inhabit is dotted with cameras that capture images of different parts of the stage. These are projected on the screens in the auditorium, the walls of the stage and a glass wall which separates the stage from the audience. Presumably the idea is to make the audience the watchers, and constant surveillance is an important theme in this day and age. However, watching the show feels too voyeuristic because of the endless brutality depicted on stage. Four men in suits and ties appear to be the guards, and while much of the violence is perpetrated by them, the trapped individuals also turn on each other and the guards themselves are sometimes attacked, so it is not clear who the victims and the villains really are. Although there are moments when individuals embrace each other or otherwise show some compassion, these are few and far between. As with Jean-Paul Sartre’s Huis Clos (No Exit) but with a vengeance, there is little opportunity to feel empathy for anyone. Some sections of the choreography, especially in the group sequences, produce striking images: twelve dancers fall to the ground one by one like dominoes to form a line along the front of the stage, lying on their backs with their knees bent in pyramid shapes. In another scene a woman dancer crawls along a row of backs which bend to let her pass. In one powerful moment, all the dancers rush to the glass wall and throw themselves against it. The piece is too long at 70 minutes. It lacks structure and is too repetitive, consisting of a series of scenes which build to a climax and end, only for the same thing to happen again. The violence, particularly that inflicted upon women, is disturbing – whatever Sang’s intentions may be, the absence of empathy makes it feel uncomfortably gratuitous. In one scene a girl sits on a chair from which she is flung to the ground by one of the men. She crawls back, sits in the chair again and is again flung down. This is repeated until she finally gives up, is bound with tape and cast aside. In the final sequence, a woman is repeatedly thrown around by three men until finally she lies flat on the floor, presumably dead. This and the overall concept and choreography are reminiscent of much earlier works by Sang, notably Fragile Beauty (2016). This is frustrating, since in recent times Sang had moved on both choreographically and emotionally with work such as 2024’s As If Snowing. Revisiting a piece first created in 2018 feels like retrogression rather than progress, and it is to be hoped that in future we see more of the new, more mature and humane Sang rather than Mr Blank 3.0. The work of the show’s designers, buttressed by the skill of the production team, is outstanding. Oliver Shing’s video design, Leo Cheung’s scenography and Lawmanray (Raymond Law)’s set and lighting are spectacular in their inventiveness and technical brilliance, and Dickson Dee’s brooding score is extremely effective. The commitment and physical courage of the dancers is impressive, although I hate to think how many bruises the women must have had by the end of the show. “Mr Blank 2.0”, City Contemporary Dance Company, Kwai Tsing Theatre Auditorium. Reviewed: May 3.

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Work by Hong Kong’s City Contemporary Dance Company, with its ‘trapped’ performers and manhandled women, is more horror than moral tale

Work by Hong Kong’s City Contemporary Dance Company, with its ‘trapped’ performers and manhandled women, is more horror than moral tale