The strobe lights the dancers only when they are jumping in the air so their movement appears frozen in time, fragmented and we only see a fraction of what they are doing. The rest of the time, everything is dark. The effect is quite super-natural: there are no joins between movements; no preparations for the jumps or landings, just the extremes with the dancers caught running in mid-flight or fully extended in stretched taut shapes (is this a reference back to the bodies of frogs splayed and pinned in the lab?) It is exhilarating to watch because you don’t know how many dancers you will see, where they will be next or what they will be doing.
Some of the jumps are facing the audience, others are in profile and make you think of the succession of still images in flip books. In fact, the idea for this scene was to imitate the effect of a Zoetrope, a spinning cylinder with slits cut vertically in the sides and a sequence of drawings or photographs on the inside showing something moving in progressive stages. The Zoetrope was a popular scientific toy in pre-Victorian times before electricity was discovered. Why would a Zoetrope be included at this point?
Partway through, there is a distinct change in mood, with a succession of related images involving a connection between two dancers. Becci and Danny start in an embrace then gradually move further apart with each frame. She is always reaching out to him with one arm, as though pleading for something. In the final two images, he is diving through the air towards her but failing to make any progress. Later scenes will place this in context: this is the abridged story of Danny and Becci stripped back to its basics and relayed in a child’s toy.
The pounding beat in the soundtrack is energising and makes the heart beat faster as though something “mad or bad” is about to happen.
