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The Guardian

‘Anything half-arsed will not be tolerated': a night at the most chaotic, beloved dance battle in regional Australia

Every country town has its explosive Facebook page, and Castlemaine – 90 minutes north-west of Melbourne – is no exception. 'Castlemania' regularly flares up with heated debates: about supermarket monopolies, speed limits and whether or not people should have bought a house near a gun range if they're not keen on loud bangs. On Saturday night at the annual costumed dance battle Hot Moves No Pressure, the arguments take human form. Inspired by the Facebook keyboard warriors, members of the Castlemaniacs dance troupe whip open their suit jackets to reveal the logos of the warring local supermarkets. At the end of their routine, they reveal 'CARSTLEMAINE' spelled across their backs: a nod to the popular local rebuke that 'There's no 'R' in Castlemaine.' (Real locals pronounce it 'Cassle'.) This is the fourth iteration of Hot Moves No Pressure, and its host venue, Boomtown Winery, is heaving. Yet there are no tickets for the public. This year there are 150 dancers across 18 groups – so after each performer gets their plus one, the venue is at capacity. Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning Some dancers formed groups specifically so they could get a ticket. 'In 2023 I waited in line for two hours to get into this absolute candy land,' says Amy Carmichael of All Fours, a group named after Miranda July's ode to perimenopausal lust, who hump out their womanly frustrations while wearing bankers shirts over nude shapewear. 'There was a big crowd left outside, watching through the window.' After the date is announced, dancers have 12 weeks to sort a backing track, costumes and choreography, with the knowledge that anything half-arsed will not be tolerated. Groups go head-to-head in battle rounds, with the audience deciding the winners in a cheer-off. There's no ultimate finale – by the time proceedings are three hours deep, delirium overpowers decision-making. Personal highlights include The Mainesplainers, who are zipped in blue flight jumpsuits to throw shapes to Charlie xcx's I Love It, then assembling into a human rocket to take off to Enya's Sail Away; the Fisters, who are dressed up demurely for a Regency-era ball, but wind up going gangsta to Doja Cat's Boss Bitch; Super Duper Troupers – a cute-as-hell marching band drilling new life into the Proclaimers' I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles); the Menowhores, who channel Stevie Nicks' white winged doves through their creepy feathery fingers; and crowd favourites Fab Five, who skittle onstage as spooked-looking medical subjects, freshly escaped from a lab. Each troupe is wholly original, but there are some common features: intense facial expressions, lascivious thrusting and multiple costume reveals. That it's hosted each year in such a small town is precisely what makes it special. 'What I love about Hot Moves is you think, 'Oh my god, that's my doctor getting sexy to Prince.' You get to see a totally different side to people,' says Shera Blaise, one of the organisers of the event, wearing a 'DANCE MOM' sash. Blaise was originally a member of Lady Fun Times, a performance collective founded in 2016 by Rosie Annear (now the town's mayor) that swelled to 25 members. When the interest overwhelmed them, it was decided a local event would be more practical. Hot Moves No Pressure is also a close cousin of Castlemaine Idyll, an annual Voice-style sing-off held at arts precinct Lot 19 that attracts big numbers and bigger costumes. Both are reflective of the town's tendency to go above and beyond in the name of art: like that time 100 locals spent three years making a frame-for-frame recreation of Jurassic Park. Castlemaine's community centre often gets involved. This year, Community House connected 'orphans' new to town so they could form a troupe together. That group became the Castlemaniacs. Sign up to Saved for Later Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips after newsletter promotion 'One of the key reasons I moved from Melbourne was to feel more connected to a community,' says team member Sarah Sorsby. 'Being an introvert, I was readying myself to say 'yes' to things I ordinarily wouldn't. It's difficult to articulate just how important this experience has been. The world can feel very heavy at times and we all need more silliness and kindness in our lives.' Tim Watson, of Panic Attack at the Disco, has taken part every year. 'I still remember the feeling that first year,' he says. 'I was on a natural high for the next week. It was like a primary school fantasy come true. Your town and friends are there cheering you on like crazy, making you feel like that kid in you is the biggest glam rock star in the world.' Sometimes, people get carried away: last year someone opened a vat of wine at the rear of the stage and sprayed the audience with it. Tonight, during a performance from the Nudibranch Crew, the power is fritzed; maybe from one sequin too many being adhered by the hot glue gun backstage. In the dark, the crowd turns the song that was cut short – Nelly's Hot in Herre – into a frenzied a capella, and by the light of someone's phone, the Rural Hot Bitches, dressed in cowhide, lead a hoedown to Dolly Parton's 9-5. It's a testament to the goodwill of everyone involved that by the time power is restored, not one iota of enthusiasm has been lost. 'It's the most fun you can have while wearing pants,' as Emma Shannon of the Crotch Capacitators puts it. 'But pants are optional.'