DANZ QUARTERLY No 5 September 2006

Reviews

Acquisitions 06 - Touch Compass
Concert Chamber, Auckland
3 May

Reviewed by Sue Cheesman

Touch Compass Dance Company‘s Acquisitions 06 was a welcome return for this company after an absence of two years. Several of the works began as initial ideas in the recent lab project. Choreography by Malia Johnston, Matt Gibbons, Suzanne Cowan, Alexa Wilson and Catherine Chappell plus the film Beauty by Bronwyn Hayward make up this varied show.

Malia’s fascination with Ennio Morricone’s music was captured in the work entitled The Big, The Bad and The Beautiful. This brought a wry smile to all of us who grew up on Westerns, be it film or television, although this work delved into a somewhat dark relationship between horse and man. A stunning opening image of bodies tied to a rope dragged diagonally across the floor was followed by Daniel Mullens describing his horsy tale embellished by the rest of the performers.

Throughout the piece the dancers were roped, tethered, hung, chased and caught. Lastly as the music and lights faded there was a final lingering image of a tethered rider-less wheelchair.
Sequintial Roadkill was littered with metaphors and strong social commentary - a feature of Alexa’s work. The piece involved a road journey and included a cacophony of sounds from Lusi Faiva and Sarah Campus, dressed to the hilt in loud glitzy costumes. They dissolved in and out of a picture frame, accompanied by road signs and a policeman (Tim Turner).

In sharp contrast Cellular Guide by Artistic Director Catherine Chappell is full of fluid dance movement. The pools of circle light dappled their costumes and gave a sense of connectedness to a very eclectic gene pool. Dancers slowly mapped one another, regrouped and continued the liquid movement conversation with someone else.
Daniel King’s performance in the duet Hephaestus and Ares was strong and physically demanding. The conflict between the two gods was physical and gritty.

Beauty captured on film Bronwyn Hayward’s aspirations and struggles to dance, finding resolution the words “who needs legs to dance.”

Dirty Dancing
The Civic, Auckland
30 March

Reviewed by Francesca Horsley

When news came that the ultimate “chick flick” Dirty Dancing was being made into a stage show I wondered if it would succeed. Made in the late 1980s, based on the story by Eleanor Bergstein, the film has iconic status with a generation of young women, indelibly etched after countless viewings.

The charms of Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey are legendary and how to stage Kellerman’s Holiday Camp, set in the beautiful Catskills Mountains? The answer is, the producers knew what they were doing - it is impossible to get too much of a good thing.

For a start, the music and story is infectious and simple - boy meets girl or vice versa - and full of the sunny optimism of early 1960s America.

At the start of the show “Baby”, Frances Houseman (Kym Valentine) is Daddy’s girl and headed for the Peace Corps. Her idealism takes a U-turn when she falls for camp dance teacher Johnny Castle (Josef Brown). She slips out of her privileged world to mix with the blue collar camp staff and meets life full on. Needless to say her energies become more focussed on this new world and Daddy takes back seat.

And she learns to dance, trading her sneakers for sexy high heels. It’s a comedy where the old are parodied – singing quaint songs; the young are hip, with full skirts traded for skin tight trousers and skimpy shorts – and the dancing gets down to it in very close partnering.

The intricacies of an outdoors forest resort setting - Kellerman’s Holiday Camp - is solved ingeniously by a rotating, sometimes tilting stage, and very clever use of drop-down horizontal screens gave a three dimensional effect with projected images creating landscape, indoor settings and simultaneous close ups of the actors.

Valentine and Brown are a charismatic pair, Nadia Cooke; the wronged Penny Johnson also a delight to watch. They all play their characters in a similar style to the original; but their vastly greater dance training gave real depth to the show. The cast from camp owner, to Baby’s Father and sister all deliver convincing performances.

An empathetic opening-night audience delighted in the dancing, songs and 60’s music – both live and over-dubbed. It was an Australian production that sizzled with trademark energy, style and sophistication.

FEATS OF FANCY- Footnote Dance
Herald Theatre, Auckland
26, 27 June

Reviewed by Briar Wilson

The programme had the dancers flying off the cover – they did indeed move well, and needed to, for these contrasting pieces.

In Time of Flight, a short piece created for Footnote in 2003 by Raewyn Hill, was great to see again.  The movement tended to the lyrical with a dolorous, rather than angst filled, atmosphere, and with religious overtones – prayer, reaching for forgiveness, the men looking like priests.  Sadness with the hope of comfort.

Moss Patterson again drew on his culture for his theme.  Kokowai is the sacred red clay used on marae, and the piece used traditional Maori music.  The dancers gave full expression to the fluid movement and Patterson’s floor plans suited this theatre with its steep seating.  However one section looked unwieldy to me, leaving an impression that the piece would benefit from further time to work on it.

Cutting the Mustard was typical of Deirdre Tarrant, with a line set across the stage – a line that was not to be stepped over, and a straight one to get into.  To music with a good beat, Tarrant introduced references not only to a rugby scrum and lineout, but also to ballet.  A fast, jolly piece with lots of different creative ideas for an enjoyable dance.

Malia Johnston’s working movement study - Left - was spiky and serious, suggesting deep internal struggles. To a reverberating musical soundscape and with little unison but much interaction (bodies were carried like a sack of potatoes), the movements for each dancer might be similar, but were mostly not the same.  The dancers did well in a demanding work.

In Remellowed, Jeremy Nelson did indeed mellow out.  An engaging piece, quirky and full of surprises.  At first the dancers made angular shapes, with right angles, flexed hands and feet to mechanical music - but not with a regular beat.  Then came the Spanish song Me Gustas Tu from Manu Chao, and the dance just flowed.  It was fun.

Black Milk, Douglas Wright Dance Company
The Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House
July 26

By Ann Hunt

Douglas Wright’s dark odyssey takes us on a journey to the interior of ourselves, for you cannot see this work and remain impartial.  It is passionate, searing and uplifting dance–theatre and is undoubtedly his most powerful work.

The impact of this work grows with repeated viewing.  After seeing Black Milk for the third time recently in Sydney, the impact it made was even more intense, and, sadly, more relevant than when it was first shown in April in New Zealand. 

The lasting impression is of horror at people’s cruelty to one another, whether on a personal basis or the wider canvas of nations at war and the people who are consumed by it.  Wright’s rage and despair are palpable.  Yet fortunately, this darkness is not unleavened by humour, nor is it without hope.

At first glance, the work appears to be a series of unrelated vignettes, with the linking thread of the Ventriloquist and his Dummy. But on closer examination, the scenes are strongly related, albeit with more than one story running through them.  The political content of the work is totally apposite, and fundamental to its relevance and power.

The unity of choreographic intent, music (Gyorgy Ligeti and David Long), lighting (Robrecht Ghesquiere), set and costume design (Michael Pearce), is in total accord. Pearce’s set design is particularly impressive, working as it does, on a symbolic and practical level.

From the shocking opening dance by the magnificent Sarah-Jane Howard, naked, except for a long red wig and scarlet shoes, the scene is set for a diatribe on the vagaries of life battered by fate and forces beyond one’s control.                         
                  
Howard devours the space, as, scissors in hand, she cuts the umbilical cord and a life begins.

Some scenes are indeed harrowing: the child abuse in the shed; the depiction of the tortures at Abu Graib; the effects of the betrayal of the woman by her lover; all of which are grim realities in the world in which we live. 

But on balance, there are moments of heartwrenching beauty that uplift the soul: Craig Barry’s luminously faunlike and brave solo; Alex Leonhartsberger and Barry’s loving duet, erotic, yet innocent. And particularly, Helaina Keeley’s unforgettable solo after Abu Graib.  Keeley’s career has been building to this dance. It seared the heart, with its glorious optimism in the face of such unrelenting cruelty and reminded one of all those who have dared to stand against oppression and indifference.   It made me weep.

All the dancers are superb.  The cast was the same as in New Zealand, with the exception of Claire O’Neil, whose darting, flame-like presence was sorely missed.  Kelly Nash replaced her, and although lacking O’Neill’s technical strength and presence, impressed greatly in her powerful betrayal solo.

As the ventriloquist and the production’s lynchpin, Brian Carbee is extraordinary.  Creepy, hateful, humorous and wry, he is also pathetic, and you will never forget him.

It was gratifying to see the Sydney critics praise Black Milk.   This important work deserves to be seen and performed again and again.  Wright’s messages of love, tolerance of difference and a return to the beauty and simplicity of the natural world grow ever more imperative, and it would seem that time is running out.

Trinity - Royal New Zealand Ballet
St James Theatre, Wellington
July 27

Reviewed by By Jo Thorpe

Trinity is perfectly programmed.  It builds in complexity as the evening progresses, from the scintillating Esquisses, through the fluidly passionate Banderillero, to Michael Parmenter’s powerful Les Noces. 

Esquisses means ‘sketch’, which is what Christopher Hampson gives us - slick fragments of dance which hint at a more lucid whole. The ballet is peppered with artfulness and wit, translating into physical form Alkan’s luminous piano score. Arpeggios of sound ripple through limbs.  Trills translate into bourrees. A legato phrase invokes a languid rond de jambe. And everywhere, Hampson’s light touch tweaks the classical vocabulary.  We see flexed feet turn to point, dropped wrists, and legs swinging like pendulums.  There is speed, stillness, sparkle and finesse, numerous entrés and exits, and Petipa-like use of lines, diagonals, ranks.  Dancers are placed like chessmen on a board, or carried on in arabesque to be held aloft like mannequin queens. On opening night, the timing and extensions are not always perfect, and the quiet ending somewhat anti-climactic. But diamonds flash on hair, earlobes, bodices, tulle, and it’s all beautifully lit by Paul Jackson. 
 
Javier de Frutos’s brand-new Banderillero has similarities with his award-winning Milagros. Both use ritual and victim - though this time the ritual is a sporting one and the intended victim, a bull. Both too, are mesmeric and intense, impelled by driving percussive rhythms and enhanced by monochromatic design.  

Pairing a Spanish bullfighting theme with a score by Chinese percussionist Yim Hok-Man is an unusual move. From the beginning, I am struck by the sheer fluidity of movement. Ten dancers - five male, five female - make up two opposing groups taking their turn in the ‘arena.’ They spiral and flow, move with gorgeously arched backs.  Long hair and liquid cream dresses become whole other limbs.  At times, arms execute a frenetic kind of semaphore, while at others, still beauty punctuates the maelstrom.   

This is a dancers’ dance. I lose myself in it, enthralled by the performers’ committed intensity, their perfect rendering of the steps.  But towards the end, I half-sense myself looking for something more. Is it that the longer a piece, the more likely we are to seek out meaning?  To want some resolution?  Nevertheless, I loved it.  

In Les Noces, Michael Parmenter takes on the greats - Nijinska, Kylian, de Keersmaaker, Robbins - to give us his interpretation of Stravinsky’s pulsating ballet score for piano, percussion, solo singers and chorus.    

In Les Noces, Parmenter’s choreography anchors me in what it is to be human. It tells of duty and desire, abandon, loss.  If Nijinska’s portrayal of an arranged 19th century Russian peasant wedding was grounded in a wish to show marriage from the woman’s point of view, Parmenter’s vision is more inclusive.  

Alana Baird and Michael Braun are outstanding as the Bride and Groom.  Vivencio Samblaceno Jr also shines as the Father of the Bride.  There are moments of almost sanctified stillness - when the Bride and Groom are hoisted aloft, either horizontally or tossed up into vertical positions, to greet, to touch hands.  Driven by declamatory singing and the visceral rhythmic force of Stravinsky’s score, the wedding guests swirl and carouse in masterly ensemble dancing

Les Noces is the only piece to use a set.  At one memorable - and possibly serendipitous moment, the dancers’ arms are raised at exactly the same angle as the rafters in John Verryt’s warm timbered ceiling. Twelve chairs are also used to great effect - and there’s this huge, illuminated cross.

In the final scene, the laying down of heads on the floor echoes Nijinska’s iconic choreography. Holding hands, the forcibly-weds place one foot, then a tentative other, on top of the prone bodies of their families and friends.  Their steps lead them towards the audience - and their own uncertain future. 

Les Noces’ future should be guaranteed.  It is a virtuosic work. 

The Collective, produced by Rifleman Productions
Tatai Hono, Auckland
19 – 21 July

By Sue Cheesman

The performance of The Collective took place in the Tatai Hono; a large cavernous space, sparsely lit and framed on three sides by church windows and bench seats. It was billed as a late night selection of three choreographic talents in association with the Luxembourg Garden’s Residency Programme

An excerpt from INK by choreographer /dancer Maria Dabrowska began the evening.  Wearing casual dance attire, her performance had a clear articulacy, punctuated at times with quirky movements that added humor and it was coupled with a luscious fluidity in and out of the floor. Several motifs returned in different guises, undercutting the sense of the habitual through reinvention. There were moments of stillness where the performer gazed at the audience, inviting the question, who is watching who? Or in contrast, a prone Maria contemplated the ceiling.

Throw disposable choreography doubled as a title and an indication of the kind of performance improvisation work Kristian Larsen is known for. Throughout this performance he cleverly switched the dynamics and movement range from the small menisci, to the large, more contemporary movement vocabulary. The use of stage space far, near and up close to a stage light, coupled with his positioning as he performed, gave a comedic impression. At one time he came very close, and used gestural movement, as if communicating a greeting.

The Golden Rulz packed many a punch as six dancers in striking gold costumes, including choreographer Alexa Wilson, individually and collectively shattered boundaries. Although having all of Alexa’s hallmarks of confrontation, this piece seemed more sophisticated with the choreography revealing subtleties of social commentary. At one point the piece built in momentum as Alexa’s hair flew around the space; others joined her and a dance party was in full swing; only to disintegrate into off-balance lurches through the space. A number of different sound tracks and poetry provided an evocative additional layer to this world of tricks and illusions, where alchemy was challenged.

Police Me and Tribute to Trio A
Julia Sadler and Philippa Cosgrove
Christchurch

Reviewed by Carolyn Cairns

On a crisp, cold Christchurch winter’s night, a small friendly crowd settled into a local church hall to view this contemporary dance and music project. In an interesting twist, the audience was seated on the hall’s small stage, therefore facing over the large floor space where the performance was to occur.

First on offer was Tribute to Trio A, Cosgrove’s homage to the historic work of Yvonne Rainer. Ms.Rainer was one of the founding members of Manhattan’s Judson Dance Theatre in the early 1960’s. Cosgrove studied and performed with this noted post-modern choreographer. An entrancing, rhythmical work, it uses choreographic elements of unity, reflection and repetition, with small bursts of steps evocative of Highland Dance and Tai-Chi, with other dance styles thrown into the mix. The stark hall lighting gave the effect you were part of the performance, engaged in its development. The work was powerfully danced by Cosgrove and Sadler, and beautifully accompanied by musician Greg Malcolm.

Police Me starts in darkness, the only illumination from a head lamp on Sadler as she patrols purposely through the audience.  Eerie sounds waft around her as she moves, creating an atmosphere of intimidation and fear. The sound is cleverly transmitted via two-way radio strapped to the dancers’ arms.  Sadler joins Cosgrove on the hall floor and they dance using only their head lamps to illuminate the movements. 

With a throw of a switch the hall is relit and they start stringing orange wool through guitars placed in front of Malcolm, securing the ends to the hall walls with pins. They play the guitars via these long extensions, creating a wonderful moment of connection between the performers and the musician. Continuing to tie the wool around the room, they formed a complex matrix within which to dance, restricting their space with each new weave. Finally, entrapped in a prison of wool, the mood became lighter as they seemed to realise their plight and they make a hasty retreat backwards on the floor, escaping the confinement of their cell. Performed with strength and precision, Police Me was a fresh and innovative piece.

Although the evening was short – less than an hour – each piece explored different realities and times. This made for an intense and thought provoking evening that was well received by the audience.

Moth by Julia Sadler
Nibelheim, The Body Festival, The Arts Centre, Christchurch

Reviewed by Andrew Paul Wood for The Press

“Between our birth and death we may touch understanding,” wrote Christopher Fry, “as a moth brushes a window with its wing.”

Moth, choreographed by Christchurch’s Julia Sadler, and danced by her, Tamsyn Russell and Mariana Rinaldi, is certainly one of the most polished and exciting performances I have seen in the Body Festival.

As focused and concise as a haiku, the dancers’ physically difficult movements, in their transition from smooth to abrupt, perfectly translate the essence of the velvety heaviness and clumsy-graceful fluttering and thrashing of the moth in its fatal attraction to the light and ultimate auto-da-fe.

The walls themselves become part of the dancing surface as the dancers climb down them or employ them centrifugally, just as they slide across, or flail on the floor to their ultimate frenzied denouement.
Different light sources are used to create great theatrical texture.

The atmosphere of romantic melancholy and tension are further enhanced by a soundscape that suggests Jean Michel Jarre composing for Japanese horror films.

Sadler is a real asset to the Christchurch cultural scene, and this work bodes well for a brilliant career in the medium emerging from its cocoon.

BOOK REVIEW
Dance Studies
Edited Roderyk Lange
Centre for Dance Studies, Jersey, Channel Islands

By Jennifer Shennan

2006 marks the 30th anniversary of the first issue of Dance Studies, an annual periodical edited by Roderyk Lange, and published by the Centre for Dance Studies in Jersey, C.I. After 20 volumes, the title and venue (but not the format) changed to Studia Choreologica, which is published by the Instytut Choreologii in Poznan, Poland.
Each slim A5 volume has approximately 100 pages, copiously illustrated, with three or four articles per issue. In these research reports of field work either in anthropology or history of dance, one can read about world dance practice in social context.

The inter-relationship between the two is often fascinating.

Of particular interest to those developing dance into education are several articles on the child and dance and on movement therapy (vols.11 & 111). Those interested in Oceania will appreciate the article by Allan Thomas on Dance Costumes in the Central Pacific (vol. 1, 1999), and two articles by Jennifer Shennan - one on Maori Dance Terminology, and another entitled A Totally Charming Grace, which compares two court dances - a baroque sarabande with a Tongan fa1ahi ula (vol. V11, 2005). A further article, on the dance of the Banaban people, is in preparation.

(The reviewer’s “conflict of interest” is hereby obvious, but having declared it, I want simply to draw attention to the subject field since I am repeatedly asked “Why is there not more anthropological writing about Pacific dance?”)
Throughout both these periodical series there are numerous articles by Lange, and it is his encyclopaedic knowledge of dance in many of its manifestations that provides such a welcome guide to any specific studies one may be undertaking. Many dance scholars work in isolation and a publication such as this offers companionship.
Dr. Lange visited New Zealand in 1980, following attendance at the Pacific Arts Festival in Papua New Guinea. His address at the Auckland Institute and Museum is still remembered by those who were privileged to attend it.
The Instytut in Poznan now monitors the teaching of dance notation (Kinetography Laban) at Victoria University, where Dance Studies are developing within the Theatre Programme.

Both series - Dance Studies and Studia Choreologica - are held in the libraries of Victoria University of Wellington and the University of Auckland.

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