Saturday 20 July 2013

Saturday the 6th of July, Cloud Dance Festival: Lacuna


Saturday the 6th of July, Cloud Dance Festival: Lacuna



Two years since Cloud Dance last provided a festival formed platform for the abundance of emerging choreographic talent, but they returned on Saturday the 6th of July for their second evening at the intimate Bernie Grant Arts Centre in north London to present Lacuna, a programme highly anticipated and certainly one of all sorts. 

 ‘The timeless beauty of classical technique with a passionate modern twist’ is indeed one-way to describe Timeless, the evening’s kick-start.  The multi-talented Merritt Moore and BalletBoyz’ Adam Kirkham embark on a passionately delicate exploration of beautiful line and tender encounter and while doing so, astonish with their effortless ability to achieve eloquence and vigour simultaneously.  

 The spirit of this duet brings joy in itself, yet under the light wash Moore tantalises with her admirable poise, control and true classical line. Kirkham, not dissimilar, impresses as a firm facilitator of strength and subtle sensitivity as he lifts, supports and embraces Moore in a variety of manor.  This divine duo achieve with great effect, a satisfying balance of harmonious unison and daring interaction, and while exploiting the ‘timeless beauty’ that informs much of this piece’s physical content, the pair do well to challenge the fluidity that one might expect it to employ.

 The stage in Gary Rowntree | Dance’s aptly titled event, The Light, is dark and seemingly in complete abandon until a large floodlight manipulated by a faint silhouette reveals differently. Entering from upstage the figure slowly sheds light in to the space, and then on to what looks like a naked body, that lay vulnerable in one corner.

 The light seems to act as a tool in revealing how one secretly lives uncomfortable in their own skin. Oona Doherty in the most abstract fashion delivers a stunningly intriguing performance as she delves deep in to the task of exploring and presenting a complex humanity.  Writhing through the space like a lone animal in all manor of slides, dives and shifts, Doherty, when the light is agile enough to capture her, offers us not only an insight into human struggle, but also a unique perspective on how the body continues to evolve as being a vehicle in creating the most beautifully striking art. 

  Timed wisely to follow Rowntree’s mesmerising solo is John Ross’s Wolfpack (a sneak preview). Firstly, it is refreshing to see four male dancers own the space, even if they are representing nothing but the typical ragged young male, but more importantly a bit of light-hearted humour can never go a miss. This quartet begins with a series of enticing tableaux’s, referencing with literal but quirky gesture how the stereotypical male seems to conduct himself once under the influence. Amongst some authentic drunk guy jigging the pack also treat us to some glimpses of Saturday night fever which following suit with the rest of the piece is humorous and cleverly pitched to say the least.     

 Kajdi’s M/S. P/E  (Metamorphosis/Soldiers Poem/Experience) unlike the concept is somewhat subtle. A large projection of the media’s take on world issues accompanies a lone figure sat on a chair. Her multi-directional reaches, matched carefully to the repetitive piano beat hint at a sense of anguish and frustration. As numerous dancers appear the simple content is repeated, developed and manipulated into various groupings.

 The second of Kajdi’s three episodes is perhaps the best. Two black clad male dancers with satisfying energy, athleticism and precision invade the space as they revolve, lift, fly and jump. The duet with resembling regimentation speaks effectively of the experiences of being a soldier.                 

 A single silhouette proceeds to escalate into a stage full of two-toned green dresses as the cast of Hannah Saotome’s Sombras do Tempo (shadows of time) revel in presenting a range of interestingly designed formations, intriguing gestures and dynamically fluid movement patterns.

 Effective tools are used on the part of Saotome, which achieve some unique physical, visual and musical happenings. The dancers unite in attaining a sound technical ability, which they deliver with both power and elegance. To end the costumes are removed leaving the collective vulnerable as they resemble with clarity, one’s sense of purity and self.   

Seemingly the most anticipated event of the night was Raymond Chai’s Unbroken Silence. Melanie Lopez and Oliver Freeston battle with power and passion against a constant flux of ‘attraction and rejection’. Demonstrated by both is Chai’s masterful desire for impeccable technique, but that said there is no hindrance to the quirky contemporary visual. The music, which has a way of invading the theatre, replicates Lopez and Freeston’s captivating presence.  The piece ends as the pair, like magnets, reluctantly force themselves to repel and part ways.             

 Profusely leaking from James Finnemore’s In The Dry is Maturity and modest sophistication. Each time initiated by a hunched back and a slow descent, Finnemore subsides to the pull of gravity and then clambers to his feet to start the process again. With his Schechter experiences firmly in tact, Finnemore seamlessly pervades the space, creating a somewhat mysterious but gentle atmosphere for the onlooker. Playing up to nobody and refreshingly in sync with his inner dynamism, he effective creates a presence that coupled with a rich multitude of physicality makes for a mesmerizing and winning work.

 To draw a close to the evening, John Ross returns to present his Solo, Man Down. A striking performance is delivered as Ross tells of  ‘a true story of a soldier sent to Afghanistan who never came back’. With clarity and truthful gesture we are given insight into a world where one braves an every day storm on the front line to protect his country, and then for him and those around, we see the consequences. Gunshots and news reports make for a realistic audio accompaniment and as the tension builds, in both movement and atmosphere, it can’t be helped but to ponder about the many to whom we owe are own lives.

 Despite the somewhat gloomy ending, an enjoyable evening was had all round. The programme offered something to all and the choreographic and performance talent was outstanding. Cloud Dance evidently returned with a promise to please, and that they certainly did.     

Reviewed by Bryony Cooper for Cloud Dance Festival

'Petite Mort' English National Ballet




Shortly after the curtains went up to present Jirí Kylián’s Petite Mort (1991), I feared, for a brief moment, that I was becoming witness to another of those ballets where the dancers remain firmly guarded behind their own gaze. Fortunately these fears promptly vanished as I became captivated by six of English National Ballet’s male dancers as they executed, with exquisite timing and precision, an array of complex manipulations of a fencing foil. Clad only in some slightly distasteful flesh-coloured briefs, the sextet’s impressive musculature and noteworthy technique battled continually for my attention.

English National Ballet's Ecstasy and Death_David Jensen1

Photography by David Jensen
http://www.flickr.com/photos/englishnationalballet/sets/72157633277889183/

Accompanied by one of Mozart’s most familiar piano concertos, six vertically positioned females lay (also in flesh coloured attire) awaiting their male companions as they rid of the material that disguised their entrance. On their return, the six couples began their embrace in an indirect, yet certainly alluding sensual interaction comprised of interesting lifts, supports and varying physical intricacies, presenting, with clarity, both sexes undeniable virtuosity.
This ballet, though somewhat difficult to comprehend conceptually, is not without wit. The females appear from the dark as if dressed in long black gowns which in fact are revealed to be gowns on wheels. The dancers cleverly use these to swiftly revolve around each other, and to move through interesting pathways across the stage; dead-pan expressions only enhance this humour.
Though new to English National Ballet’s repertory and style, Petite Mort was executed perfectly. They say save the best until last, but there is no doubt that this piece was by far the best of the company’s triple bill.

Bryony Cooper  for English National Ballet's Danceistheword blogg

Sunday 27 January 2013

Ieva Kuniskis's 'Gone to get milk' 2013 Review


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ieva Kuniskis- Gone to get Milk, as part of Resoltuion! 2013

 
The Place, Robin Howard Dance Theatre
Friday, 25th January 2013

 
Ending up with a whole lot more than you bargained for… it’s a familiar concept, to which we can all relate. Though, ingeniously, Ieva Kuniskis arranges what is arguably an innovative commentary on the more trying aspects of life, in a way that perhaps hints at something a little deeper than the title might suggest.

Oranges, that we can only presume were never on the list, are unleashed and left to their own device by the first performer as she enters and quickly exits again in a bid to make the toilet, or at least that’s what the audio suggests. The space, prior to the invasion of the mass of oranges, is occupied by only a chair, a table, and under the latter, someone who perhaps remains veiled by the darkness of her ever familiar setting, until the strains that she perpetually masks, eat at the walls of her serenity.

The content of Gone to get milk, which balances fruitfully on the margins of dance and physical theatre, is fuelled mostly by a blend of simple and quirky gesture. Gesture that despite being accompanied by a somewhat comical score, subtly and effectively unearths the feelings that seemingly lurk in the depths of ones being, when strangled by what reveals itself to be the vicious cycle of an unworkable, yet comfortable situation.

Three Intriguing solos by three equally intriguing performers capture what might be the means in which an individual best attends to the hopelessness of his/her surroundings. while the interplay of the three as they amalgamate seamlessly in and out of various duets and trios is made powerful by an overtly stifling tenderness.

Refreshing is that Gone to get milk’s cleverly pitched, and thought- provoking undercurrent, refrains from hindering the comically untamed visual that Kuniskis creates. No element of this piece attempts to be, nor relies upon, anything more than an honest artistic flair of all parts. Which if I am honest, is a little more than can be said about the remainder of the programme.

Review of Suderman and Söderberg’s 'A Talk' 2012




                               
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sudermann and Söderberg’s A Talk as part of Dance Umbrella 2012 Festival
 
Friday 11th of October 2012
 
The Platform Theatre, Central St Martins, Kings Cross


Now, if not a custom to boundary-breaking performance, A Talk could quite simply be as the title suggests. Even to such extent that it might be difficult for its audience not to question the belonging of such content in the program of London’s biggest annual festival for dance. Yet, it takes no time for Sudermann and Söderberg to justify their artistry…one of the many reasons A Talk is at the top of my list of must sees. 

This dynamic female duo is already seated and mid-flow into their rhythmic, clicky, clappy display as the audience enter and take their seats. The two casually dressed, almost juxtaposing characters observe us as intently as we do them, and still manage to be unfazed nor undone by our waiting for their abstract interaction to be accidentally, or even momentarily broken.       

What has been constructed here is nothing less than a spectacular vocal, and gestural demonstration of our desires to communicate for no reason other than to enter into the game, which is conversation. The duo, accompanied by none other than the passive pot plant, have devised a subtle overlapping between communicational sentimentality and juvenile matter of fact, to which the outcome is simplicity, complexity and precision all at once.

Along with fashionable wit, Sudermann and Söderberg have consistency conquered, for every element of this conversational affair seems to fall back in again, somewhere, and somehow new.

 With humour, satisfaction and point blunt accuracy-what’s not to like?