Dance Umbrella: Talking Amongst Ourselves

The festival Dance Umbrella has been going on for over 30 years here in London, usually in October-November. Last year, a new Artistic Director, Emma Gladstone, took over and brought a new vision to its programming (a focus on 21st century choreography) and lots of new ideas and approaches to presenting dance events.

The one that caught my attention was a different kind of post-show talk. We've probably all experienced Q&As with dancers/choreographers/etc after a performance: it's always enlightening to hear from the artists involved what they had in mind, where they came from, how they worked towards the piece etc, and to get the opportunity to ask them questions.

But what if you didn't like the work? What if you didn't get it? For many of us, it would be a little daunting to admit it to the artist's face. So Dance Umbrella set up post-show discussions between audience members only, without the presence of the artist. Any questions that would arise would be answered via their blog.

I attended the one following a performance by flamenco dancer Rocio Molina at the Barbican and found it so envigorating, open and enlightening. It got me seeing things in the piece I hadn't noticed. About 40-45 people stayed to share their thoughts about what they had just seen. Some people loved Molina's experimentations; others (me!) found them a little self-indulgent sometimes. Some saw references to Lorca, Ginger Rogers, Coppelia in some of her choreography; others thought there was no need to try and find references to hang on to and said so loudly. A couple shared their amazing story of walking past Molina's rehearsal space in Seville, watching her from the street for a few minutes, and being told they should come and see her at the Barbican: flamenco novices, they were blow away by it all.

Everyone was very respectful of others' opinions, and willing to share their thoughts and impressions. And no one hogged the mic!

Not sure whether Dance Umbrella have copyrighted the idea [ ;-) ], but I'd love to see this happening more often across other events.

Pina Bausch - 1980

(In 2012 I saw 10 works by Pina Bausch as part of the World Cities 2012 season. I just blogged moments from the shows I remembered. I am doing the same now for 1980, which Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch is performing at Sadler's Wells this week).

Grass on the stage.
A very Bauschian line of dancers walking, dancing with their arms (opening them, kinda doing the Egyptian, moving their wrists...), walking down into the audience then back the stage.
A game for children: fisherman, fisherman how deep is the waaaater? (it is 75m deep!) And how can I cross it? (by doing the gorilla!/by hoping on one foot!/by rolling on the floor!). Then the fisherman tries to catch the person who is crossing.
One of the dancers impersonating a middle-aged guy, with leather jacket, like some kind of roadie, doing dirty jokes, always saying 'Fantastic!' at the end of everything.
Serving tea to the audience. 'Would you like some sugar with it?'
A woman dancing under a sprinkler, like on a beautiful summer afternoon.
A summer evening - people eating, drinking wine under spot light, listening to a man play the organ, singing with him.
A surreal beauty pageant, each female dancer being introduced, told to 'Smile!' and do a 'winkie winkie!', with the Australian proving the keenest. She has a huge number of hobbies. Then they have to show their front legs and repeat the tongue twister 'Betty bought a bit of butter but the butter Betty bought was bitter'. The men do it too.
Competition around a microphone to sell one's leg ('look at this leg! it's tight! it's beauttiful! and I have another one too!')
Competition around a microphone to share the number of scars one has ('here, here, here and there. appendicitis. car accident')
All the performers walking slowly up stage, and each having to answer a yelling maitre de ceremonie: 'Julie! What are you scared of?' 'Suicide. Worms. Closed rooms'.
Slow line formations
A goodbye scene: one dancer bottom left corner, faces all the others, who are standing quite close to each other. One by one they go to her and say goodbye. They say it quite formally, like what you'd tell someone you don't really know 'Thank you again for coming. It is such a shame you have to go. Best regards'. Only the final dancer gives her a hug. This scene is quite moving and is repeated at the end of the piece, only the lights go down after the dancers take their position. So you know the goodbyes are coming, but they are not given to you.

Boris Charmatz - enfants @ Sadler's Wells

I was listening to an interview with Australian director Simon Stone yesterday, in which he said:

“'Oh my god I can’t believe I am actually watching this’ - This is what theatre should make you feel like.”

I thought yeah he's right, this is how I've felt whenever I've been knocked over by how good a show was.

Little did I know I'd feel this way that very evening, watching Boris Charmatz's enfant at Sadler's Wells. Here are 3 things about it that made me go  'I can't believe I just saw that happen in front of my eyes!'

1. The set.
The stage is bare, with no wing curtains. At the beginning, some kind of crane with a motor (placed front stage right) is pulling pieces of rope that have been taped around the stage and along the wall. Two people are at the end said ropes, and end up being lifted and hanging what must be 5 to 8 meters about the stage floor. They look lifeless, just hanging there. The man is held by one foot, the woman is folded at the waist. The machine brings them up, down, deposes them on the floor only to bring them back up. What is going on?

2. Lifeless children being moved about by adults all around the stage.
They are like rag dolls being played with, made to dance, to sit, to chat. The children are what, aged 5 to 8? For half an hour they stay limp, eyes closed, while the adults move them about, dance around them and go about some crazy business. The sight of those children was funny at first, but turned disturbing for me. A few weeks ago I was sadly in A&E, and witnessed the death of a 3-month-old in the bay opposite mine. I only saw him being carried in by the ambulance people, then the curtain was drawn and I could just hear them trying to save him. Minutes later, a wail from the distraught parents. Their son was dead. Seeing the show reminded me of them, and how maybe in the madness of their grief they may have tried to will their baby back to life. I would have, I think...

3. After the children start singing, they start running around. There are incredible moments where one or two try to run off stage but get caught up by an adult. To them, it may be a game but there was a certain shock/violence that made me gasp. Then it's the turn of the adults to go lifeless while the kids move them around (5 kids needed to move one man, at one point). A bagpipe player (!!!!) then appears and guides all the children and adults around the stage in some kind of crazy celebration/parade. You can tell it's very improvised. There are mad marching steps, screams, rolls on the floor. You can see some kids looking around a little confused, but they soon remember some steps they know they can fall back on (one is scrubbing your eyes, as though you are waking up, or miming crying). I'm watching and I'm like 'What the fuck!?'. It is completely mad, I don't know where it's going but I am in awe of the performers and the vision of the choreographer. Here is the bagpiper being lifted by the crane.

Leaving the theatre, I was completely buzzing. It's hard to explain why, apart from complete surprise at seeing something so different, and so beautiful for it.

If I see another show this year that has the same impact on me, I'll consider myself very lucky.

Guess what those guys are doing?

Look at their faces. Bertil Nilsson has filmed them close-up. They are smiling a little. Oh no are they in pain? Are they trying not laugh? Yes yes they are trying to suppress laughter. Or maybe not, there is a hint of discomfort.

Watch this video and find out what's causing those facial reactions.



Visit Bertil Nilsson's website for more beautiful dance videos and his photographic work.