I was unfortunately unable to attend the first night of the two-day HCMC International Dance Festival 2013, and so missed the contributions from Japan, Italy and South Korea. But Vietnam’s Arabesque dance company, who presented a revival of their work on Vietnamese rice-growing rituals, The Mist, on the second evening, was so impressive that I had to conclude that I’d been richly rewarded despite everything.

It was consistently obvious throughout The Mist (‘Suong Som’ in Vietnamese) that we were in the presence of a masterpiece. The work opened very gently, in a pre-dawn dimness with only the sound of insects and the occasional cock-crow. When figures began to appear in slow-motion, emerging from sleep and preparing to work, I understood at once what this was – the agricultural round seen as a sacred rite, millennia-old, and a kind of worship of some primordial mother-goddess, patroness of the fields and of the river.

This is an enormously old dramatic tradition, at the root of ancient Japanese and ancient Greek drama, both originally forms of temple-dance. And so it came as no surprise that the on-stage scene soon changed to one of monks pacing in a circle to the sound of rubbed temple bells. Were these agricultural workers or temple acolytes, you might have asked? But there was no need for this question – they were clearly one and the same.

Almost every country holds its agricultural traditions in special veneration without necessarily understanding why, and the sacredness of the ancient agricultural round lies at the root of, for example, objections to GM food. The genius of Nguyen Tan Loc and his fellow choreographers was to take this connection for granted, without resorting to any words other than the occasional joyous shout of possibly unlettered laborers at a rich harvest.

As the evening progressed there were some wonderful scenes – a typhoon with scattered leaves and tossed furniture, whirling dancers (suggesting Sufi traditions), and a final cascade of rice from on high coming down like a blessing on exhausted, but finally triumphant, workers.

The lighting too was of a very high order, as was the scenery. Palm fronds, sheaves of rice – all aspects of the production, visual and aural, were both appropriate and extremely professionally executed.

There was one scene that seemed at first sight not to fit – two dancers dancing while a lady played a zither. But for me even this fitted into the grand design, as if somewhere far removed from the rice-fields some unperturbed deity was over-seeing the affairs of men. This analysis was encouraged by a totally un-rural setting, silk drapes of yellow and red, beautifully arranged, flowing onto the stage like a river in spate, or as if in a royal apartment,.

But masterpieces are rarely simply explicable. If they were, why bother laboring to create them when a simple, rational explanation would do? Instead, they’re the product of rich imagination, and The Mist was in every way undeniably that.

I wanted this show to go on forever – appropriate enough for something dealing with infinity and immemorial rituals. As it was, it ended with laughter (comparable to the satyr plays of the ancient Greeks). After a night-scene effect, cleverly contrived with small lanterns on a darkened apron-stage, the performers engaged in happy massed drumming using wooden clappers – items which had also been distributed to the audience-members. On cue we all joined in and the evening ended, wholly appropriately, on a note of celebration

This was a brilliant event, easily the best performance from Arabesque that I’ve seen (though all their shows are remarkable in one way or another). It evoked the very roots of drama itself, while remaining intensely Vietnamese. Nguyen Tan Loc is clearly simultaneously a visionary and a stage artist of genius. Vietnam should be immensely proud of him and his multi-talented team – they remain one of the very brightest stars in the country’s contemporary dance firmament.