MONDOmagazine

Deborah Hay presents Up Until Now
January 29-31 & February 4-7, 2009 @ Winchester Street Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Have you ever arrived at a party where everyone’s tripping on psychedelics and entactogens and you seem to be the only sober one with no clue as to what’s happening? If not, you can experience a similarly discombobulated feeling at Deborah Hay’s trippy world premiere of Up Until Now. The work, which began as the solo I’ll Crane For You, was taught to 20 dancers/choreographers last summer, and was recently adapted by Toronto Dance Theatre artistic director Christopher House for his company. The result is a drug-fueled disco that invites viewers — if they dare — into the world of the avant-garde club kid of 2009…I think?!

In a choreographic discussion held a week prior to opening night, Deborah Hay confirmed that there is no right or wrong interpretation to the movement, which is composed of directions that challenge and confront each dancer’s separate experience in the field, engaging them on several levels of consciousness at once…whoa, man! The whole spiel deals with the notion of infiltrating the choreographed body in order to transcend it. Hay creates a set of questions, referred to as the “balls in the air,” which the eleven dancers ask themselves while performing. These are huge questions with no answers about grand narratives, with the effect of “continually shocking the performer into a state of awareness”. The dancers are also given impossible tasks, like “turn without turning” which undoubtedly elicits various results from each body. The performance is more about the dancers discovering themselves on a deeper level than it is about audience entertainment. The audience members are invited to make their own assumptions about the cellular body, as opposed to the dancers’ personality.

Without set design or music, the only details which lead my mind to create a party scenario are the dancers’ ultra-glam outfits of glitter and gold. Their sporadic behaviour is what causes my imagination to develop the impression that I’m observing a re-enactment of various drug trips, including the introspective trip (I am at the disco, dancing), the reflective trip (what am I doing at the disco, dancing?), the social trip (can I please stroke your glitters?), and of course the bad trip (your glitters are trying to kill me).

While one performer is experiencing a movement tantrum in the corner, others calmly wonder across the stage and around the bleachers, appearing to search aimless for the next hit. They are aware of each other, sometimes vaguely, but seem to be studying the audience as intently as we are studying them. For the majority of the hour-long experiment, sound is restricted to soft humming, bouts of gibberish, and loud grunts. As the party quietly subsides and the guests congregate into a group, a performer makes absurd statements like “break it in two and it’s still one,” and “don’t underestimate your hair; it will only make you stronger…at the beginning.” What seem like spontaneous ’shroom-driven commentary is in fact well-rehearsed, as the others mime along with the words. I can only imagine how hilarious the rehearsal process must have been!

Hay is renowned for her unconventional methods, stating, “I choreograph my dances after they have been performed.” She honed her unique approach to performance art/dance as a young choreographer in 1960s New York with the radical experimental Judson Dance Theatre. As one of the pioneering post-modern dancers — who were heavily influenced by artists Merce Cunningham, John Cage, and Robert Rauschenberg — Hay, along with the other Judson artists, challenged dance by throwing out conventions and shocking the modern dance world. At 67, Hay continues to be an influential choreographer, performer, teacher, and writer. Acknowledging that “dancers were fairly late to pick up the pen,” Hay stresses the importance of intellectualizing (on paper) the artists’ process and philosophies, so that one may articulate a language for abstraction. “In order to make an esoteric experience, you better put it in writing; otherwise no one will get it.” Um, please pass the programme notes?

Tamara Rojo, principal dancer for the Royal Ballet, once said that “one of the most beautiful things ballet has brought me is that I can escape from reality whenever I want — and I don’t have to take any drugs.” Surely this statement is true for all dancers, but what about the observer? As the audience of serious spectators stared intently at the thought-provoking work, I could hear Christopher House giggling away in the back row. I can only surmise that: 1) he was being reminded of some inside jokes from rehearsal, 2) he was taking the postmodern-piss out of us all, or 3) he was on some sweet drugs.

Perhaps if a complimentary hit of je ne sais quoi was distributed at the door, we would all see the humour in this RETROspective of 60s NYC performance art, and the Winchester Space would have been transformed into a rave of ecstatic dancers and dancers on ecstasy. As it turned out however, Up Until Now proved to be a performance that I enjoyed more during the reflection process than I did watching the work itself. I can only relate my post-performance reaction to that curious day-after-hung-over feeling of OMG, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! …I’m still not sure.

Dance Ontario presents Dance Weekend ‘09
January 23-25 @ Fleck Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Attending a professional dance event can be a risky business. Unlike the latest film or music release, you rarely get the chance to sample before you spend a substantial chunk of change on a ticket. For dance lovers and those curious to learn more about the art form, one of the best opportunities to feast on the province’s best performances is Dance Ontario’s annual Dance Weekend, a dim sum of emerging groups showcased alongside established companies. With three dance-packed days of performances spanning fifteen minutes to half an hour, 29 companies perform an impressive diversity of styles celebrating Ontario’s multicultural flare, including *deep breath* African/Caribbean, ballet, belly dance, Chinese, contemporary, Indian, jazz/hip-hop, Korean, Middle Eastern, modern, Spanish, and some movement that defies categorization — or gravity, for that matter! The works range from mediocre to magnificent, but for $10, you can’t (and shouldn’t) complain!

The weekend started off with the cheap crowd-pleasing routines, a bit of tap here, a bit of poor little rich girls acting all “street” there (those keffiyehs are bombing, so to speak!), and your token musical theatre types with their annoying so-you-think-you-can-dance lyrical numbers. After an adorable Chinese peacock duet by the Little Pear Garden Collective, the show picked up with a teaser for Da Collision’s upcoming (Re)tracing Fred (Feb 24-28 @ York University), a deconstructed disco starring the adorable Louis Laberge-Côté…sans pantalons! I’m definitely excited to see this number again, if not just to see one of the dancers pull a tube of lipstick from his tighties again! The next act was an exciting battle of b-boys (and b-girl) by the Supernaturalz which definitely got the crowd revved. Best part of the evening? When 15 zombies burst through the doors and crawled onto the stage to perform a kickass version of MJ’s “Thriller”! Awesome job, ghouls! Start getting your groups prepared for next year’s Thrill the World event.

The next day it was up to HoneyKats to recapture the crowd’s (well mostly the hetero males’) excitement, by forgetting their tops backstage. Not too impressive. And dammit, I swear if I see one more piece to Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People”, or dancers wearing corsets and skuzzy tutus holding walking canes, I WILL pull a Tonya Harding on all their pseudo-goth asses! Luckily, the programme was salvaged by two wonderful commissions by the not-for-profit art organization Dance Ontario. The first piece was by the beautiful Barbara Pallomina and Lucy Rupert (of Blue Ceiling Dance), in collaboration with Denise Fugiwara, and explored natural raw materials inspired by 1950s Japanese art. The highlight of the day was Pamela Rasbach’s Incorporation, a charmingly cheeky parody of Bay Street corporate chaos by a group of highly skilled contemporary dancers.

The final day of festivities included an introduction by respected dance critic Michael Crabb of the world premiere of InDance’s Firecracker, where traditional classical Indian dance meets contemporary sensibilities. The dramatic portion of the day was presented by Sashar Zarif as well as Dance Theatre David Earle’s The Heat of Night, a compelling exploration of the darkness, suffering, and searching inherent in the writing of Anna Akhmatova. Arte Flamenco was an appropriate finale, the high-intensity flamenco ending the successful weekend with explosive passion.

For those of you dance lovers who are unaware of all the fantastic dance-related events offered in Toronto and surrounding areas, check out Dance Ontario’s website, or, even better, sign up to John Newton’s listserv at Rudolf_Nureyev@lycos.com for daily updates on dance events. Don’t be shy to introduce yourself to John at the next show you attend, he’d love to chat with you about and the latest dance happenings. He’s the guy sitting front and centre. Tell him I said hi!

Kidd Pivot presents Lost Action
November 26-29 @ Fleck Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

“Dance disappears almost at the very instant of its manifestation; it is an extreme expression of the present: a perfect metaphor for life.”  (Crystal Pite)

The advantage (and disadvantage) of dance is that it’s an elusive art form: while its presence is fleeting, it hopefully contains a lingering message or emotional response. It’s generally not something that can be rented or downloaded and is impossible to preserve through posterity. It is usually not something that can be discussed among acquaintances during the act itself, but it hopefully generates enough interest to elicit dialogue afterwards. Despite being surrounded by others, dance can be an entirely personal experience for both the viewer and performer.

Dance is a form which exists in a constant state of vanishing, a theme closely investigated in Canadian choreographer/performer Crystal Pite’s brilliant work Lost Action, which ran until November 29th at Toronto’s Fleck Dance Theatre before continuing its international tour. First performed in Vancouver in 2006, Pite and her team of world-class artists integrate a variety of components including movement, original music, bilingual text, and visual design to express the transient nature of love, loss, and memory.

Pite, proudly considered to be one of the best dancemakers in the country, possesses an extensive background in ballet, having danced with Ballet British Columbia and Ballett Frankfurt. She has received numerous awards for outstanding choreography, and has been creating works abroad and at home since 1990, having formed her own company in 2001. Pite’s high aptitude for movement is not surprising, considering the calibre of artists she has worked with — specifically William Forsythe, who served as artistic director of Ballett Frankfurt before establishing his own company in 2004.

Forsythe — considered the Einstein of contemporary ballet — creates complex compositional strategies that rely on the deconstruction and reworking of classical technique, combined with the abstract movements of modern dance and structured improvisation. Pite was involved in the creation of Forsythe’s CD-ROM, Improvisation Technologies, and has participated as both performer and creator in his recent works. This mentorship is evident in Pite’s current explorations, which reference Forsythe’s high-speed precision and dynamic physicality, while retaining a uniquely Canuck sensibility embedded within the surrounding theatrical elements.

Lost Action uses the death of action as a metaphor for the death of men. “Sometimes it’s not clear if we are witnessing a killing or a rescue,” explains Pite, in which the struggle of the dancer is aligned with that of the soldier. “The title, Lost Action, brings to mind that tragic phrase of war: lost in action.” In a tribute, perhaps bordering on the obvious, Pite dances in near darkness, her head completely covered by a black sack adorning a poppy, while a spotlight magnifies an ominous figure against the dimly lit wall. Empty winter jackets are delicately and repeatedly carried on and offstage, and are placed upon fallen men who are resurrected momentarily.

Lighting paints the stage blood red, bouncing off the heavily textured backdrop and adding the appearance of a thickly forested, isolated environment. Fellow Ballett Frankfurt artist Owen Belton’s situational electro-acoustic soundscape indicates a melancholic atmosphere, adding moans, shrieks, shots, and chanting with terrifying effect.

The subject of impermanence is perceived abstractly through a kinespheric language of images, pacing, and style without depending on narrative content. The seven dancers communicate with each other kinesthetically and through phatic sounds and text. There is a constant sense of vulnerability expressed through covered eyes and dependency on others. A female is suspended above a quartet of males, twisting, stretching, falling and flying for minutes in the air, challenging the fine line between life and death.

An equal sense of urgency is communicated as each member of the quartet attempts to assert his individualism, furiously breaking away from the other three only to find himself back with them shoulder to shoulder. Likewise, bodies move across the space with upward reaching arms, commanding attention and demanding not to be forgotten. The dancers exhibit their bodies as inherently contradictory vessels.  Their pleas for recognition suggest sensitive, empathetic characteristics, but their sometimes violent execution of immensely detailed choreography implies superhuman qualities.

A highlight was Juilliard-trained Jermaine Spivey’s demonstration of the quintessential disjointed fluidity of the Forsythe technique in an unbelievably virtuosic solo eliciting gasps and cheers from the opposite side of the stage. Disregarding gravity, Spivey balances at severe angles, fiercely flings himself to the ground, and recovers instantaneously in order to amaze with the speed at which he links a dozen minute articulations into a single beat. Absolutely incredible!

Ever the intellectual, Pite was clever even in naming her company. Kidd refers to the figure of an outlaw, a superhero, an irreverent and reckless being. Pivot describes a small, precise movement that changes one’s direction, allowing for another point of view; in short, it changes everything. The connotation of “leader of change” seems appropriate for a company whose compelling choreography has garnered support from both sides of the heavily-divided dance world. Pite’s combination of strong classical technique with a modern sensibility which seeks to rebel against classical ballet’s rigid constraints, satisfies even the most dedicated balletomane (evidenced by the attendance of ballet icons Karen Kain and Veronica Tennant).

In fact, Pite’s exciting work will be showcased, alongside that of two other Canadian artists, in the National Ballet of Canada’s upcoming production Innovation (March 4-8 at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts). Sure to be a success, I look forward to seeing Kidd Pivot in the near future.

Toronto Dance Theatre presents Dis/(sol/ve)r
November 18-22 at Fleck Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Toronto Dance Theatre is currently celebrating its 40th year as one of the city’s foremost dance institutions. At its helm is the ultra-hip Christopher House, artistic director of the company since 1994 and one of Canada’s leading contemporary choreographers. House, who studied philosophy and political science before delving pointed-foot first into the dance world, is known for integrating academia into his artistic creations. His pieces are often informed by a profound curiosity about travel, science, the visual arts, cinema and literature, and he draws inspiration from subjects ranging from mythology to genetics.

In his latest work, Dis(sol/ve)r, House upholds his reputation as the country’s brainiest choreographer, merging dance and quantum physics in a complex, multi-layered work based on particle theory and probability waves. Its central theme concerns the idea of dissolving — “dissolving lovers, the moment of joy, the comfort of cruelty, rising and falling.” While the superficial structure addresses the nature of love, playing with youthful, whimsical qualities, its internal layer concerns itself with quantum theory, particularly the laws of attraction.

The energetic one-hour work centres around an unusual party setting, with five male and four female performers. Wearing suits and sepia-toned vintage-inspired silhouettes by Phillip Sparks, the stylish dancers with their Queen West haircuts sashay across the stage in unpredictable patterns suggestive of random elementary particles moving through space. Like subatomic particles themselves, it is impossible to know their momentum and position simultaneously.

The choreography ranges from kinetic, kaleidoscopic patterns of moving bodies, to chance encounters of duets as well as solos; at times witty, at times passionate, and even at times violent. A repeated gesture has two dancers about to embrace, when one becomes viscous and dissolves to the floor, leaving the other dancer grasping the air. Each dancer fully embraces their role as a subject within House’s bizarre experiment in organized chaos, despite not always being able to embrace one another.

House is known for involving multidisciplinary aspects in his work, linking film and movement, or collaborating with musicians (like the Hidden Cameras). Dis/(sol/ve)r is kept simple with a traditional relationship of movement to a prerecorded soundtrack provided by his longtime collaborator Phil Strong. The Dora award-winning composer created a bouncy, electronic score, featuring melodies and harmonies in a variety of moods, using an assortment of quirky instruments like the nyckelharpa, the harmonium and the hurdy-gurdy. Very indie indeed.

House is a major force in the Canadian dance community, having acted as resident choreographer for Toronto Dance Theatre since 1981 with a contribution of over fifty works to the company’s repertoire, as well as for other Canadian and international companies. He constantly redefines contemporary dance vocabulary, building choreographic language that is piece-specific, reinventing material that is imaginative and unpredictable. Attending a work like Dis/(sol/ve)r is not a passive experience, as themes are layered with the artistic and scientific, demanding examination on the microscopic, or in this case, subatomic level.

Cantos de la Tierra (Songs of the Earth)
Esmeralda Enrique Spanish Dance Company
November 6-9, 2008 @ Fleck (formerly Premiere) Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Federico Garcia Lorca wrote about duende y misterio del flamenco (the spirit and mystery of flamenco). It is often portrayed in the work of Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar and most recently in moments of Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona. Duende is a critical element in flamenco, referring to the inner dark force of the artist’s soul. Experience its passionate struggle in Cantos de la Tierra, a new work by the Esmeralda Enrique Spanish Dance Company.

The EESDC has been a strong presence on the Toronto Flamenco scene since 1982, refreshing Andalusian gypsy traditions with contemporary movement, pleasing a consistent audience of flamenco cognoscenti and admirers. Enrique is celebrated for her high-calibre choreography and collaborations with some of the world’s most renowned flamenco artists. Cantos de la Tierra, a compelling work that celebrates our elemental connection to the earth, is interplay with flamenco’s core elements (instrumentalists, vocalists, and dancers), creating a participatory art form in which rhythm and dance are synonymous.

Five dancers, including Ilse Gudino, Fiona Malena, Paloma Cortés, internationally acclaimed guest artist Juan Ogalla, and Enrique herself, channel duende through flamenco puro. Performing impressive solos as well as dancing in tight unison, the dancers perform brazeo (armwork), floreo (handwork), palmas (clapping), and zapateado (footwork) in both improvised and structured settings. Layers of brightly coloured ruffles swirl around the silhouetted female bodies, while flowing arms, circulatory hand gestures, and expansive upper torsos hover over percussive footwork. The dancers become consumed by the movement, as audience members are encouraged to participate with excited cries of “olé!”

Enrique appears in a solo, wearing a long white dress with a tiered train extending beyond her body, which she dramatically manipulates with skillful kicks and fierce expression as if having her revenge on a jilted lover. Her energy is high, and she likens the flamenco dancer to wine, improving with age. The distinguished Ogalla portrays the quintessential Spanish heartthrob, an Antonio Banderas/Javier Bardem character of passion and machismo. In a virtuosic display of technique and control, Ogalla attacks the floor with bursts of intricate footwork, so quick his legs are blurred like a hummingbird’s wings. His flamboyance is captivating; he is a true Lord of the Dance.

The dancers are accompanied onstage by a talented ensemble of Spanish vocalists and musicians on guitar and percussion, including El Moro, José Valle Fajardo “Chuscales,” Nicolás Hernández, and Daniel Stone. In flamenco, it is the singer who leads the musicians and dancers, and celebrated cantaora Encarna Anillo not only leads but steals the show in a duet with guitarist Oscar Lago. Her commanding voice is full of deep longing, dotted with moments of elation. Her mesmerizing presence embodies the spirit of flamenco and, for a brief moment, I too became possessed by duende.

Cantos de la Tierra is a fiery production of complete entertainment. The company of dancers, musicians, and guest artists not only entertain, but generate a sense of community among audience and performers, transcending language and cultural barriers to reveal the intensity of the human spirit on a universal level. Peeking around at my peers, brought to their feet with what they have just witnessed, it was evident that I wasn’t the only person reduced to tears. Vive flamenco!

The Esmeralda Enrique Spanish Dance Company will be featured at the Toronto International Flamenco Festival, November 15 at 8pm at the St. Lawrence Centre.

Daniel Léveillé Danse presents La pudeur des icebergs
October 2 & 3 @ Premiere Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Last weekend’s dance menu offered a feast of buttocks, bollocks, chests, breasts, and all the rest as Montreal-based Daniel Léveillé Danse opened the new season of Harbourfront Centre’s DanceWorks series with the Toronto premiere of La pudeur des icebergs. Translated as ‘the modesty of icebergs,’ this compelling work, premiered in 2004, completes Léveillé’s trilogy of works, which includes Utopie (1998) and Amour, acide et noix (2001). Inspired by an encounter with a young junkie, this piece aligns the bodily risks taken by the drug user with those of a dancer in a highly physical display of six immaculately sculpted physiques.

The five male and single female dancers, presented in the nude, appear both vulnerable and venerable without peripherals and social identities. They gaze outwardly and towards one another with blank expressions as they dispassionately enter and exit the space. Musculature and breathing is visible as they perform ritualistic movement composed of deep lunges and squats (leaving nothing to the imagination) as well as giant leaps and turns after which the icicle-like bodies crash to the ground. The repetition and emphasis of symbolic gestures encourage visceral and emotional responses from the audience.

The dancers rarely make physical contact with one another, occasionally using each other as platforms from which or onto which to jump. Red marks become noticeable on the dancers’ skin, exposing the normally invisible violence inherent in dance. The sexual allusions of moments of intimate contact are not meant to titillate. The occasional nipple tweaking, bum clutching, and back petting appear at first superfluous, but their lack of eroticism serve to iterate the unselfconsciousness of the independent yet open creatures on stage. At one point, the bare-assed dancers pile atop of one another, creating an asexual iceberg formation highlighted by Marc Parent’s subtle lighting design.

The title suggests the innocence and fragility associated with icebergs, although the work never attempts to comment on obvious issues relating to icebergs such as global warming. The meaning of the display is not meant to be deciphered, and the audience is instead encouraged to witness the beauty of the “pure form and stark essence” of the minimalist choreography. This includes slowed moments at what has been described as a “glacial pace.” No-frills set design and lighting strip the standard sensory-overload environment of the stage to its bare essentials, while Chopin’s Preludes Opus 28 plays unassumingly in the background.

With a career spanning three decades, Léveillé has patiently honed the skills required to powerfully convey the expressiveness of minimalist movement. La pudeur des icebergs chips away at the endless layers of human experience. At just an hour in length, the visually evocative work is deeply penetrating, revealing more than just the tip of the iceberg.

Lata Pada Sampradaya Dance Creations presents Shunya & B²
May 30-31 @ Premiere Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

According to Lata Pada, internationally-renowned bharatanatyam dancer, teacher, and artistic director of Sampradaya Dance Creations, Toronto is the crossroad to cultural convergence. Pada, born in Bangalore but residing in Canada for over four decades, presented two captivating world premieres last week in the T-Dot that exemplify the confluence of the east and west dance matrix. Shunya and B² are works that represent not a fusion but rather a dialogue between the classical bharatanatyam and ballet idioms, created in collaboration with avant-garde choreographer Mavin Khoo, dancers from Toronto’s Ballet Jörgen, and other guest artists.

Shunya, the Hindu concept of zero invented by mathematicians thousands of years ago, represents completeness and potential. Contrary to the western thought in which zero is a symbol of absolute absence, shunya is imbued with philosophical and spiritual metaphors, evoking mystery and ambiguity. Pada’s choreography portrays these notions through a cross-cultural dialogue between bharatanatyam and kathak styles, two foreign movement languages that are rooted in ancient esoteric traditions.

Three Sampradaya dancers are joined by four high calibre dancers from India, Germany, England and Canada in the densely detailed abstract work. Acute concentration and sophisticated coordination is required to execute the precise dynamics and expressive gestures conveyed by the dancers through a Zen-like fluidity which lingers through moments of stillness. Impressive feats are performed as one male dancer suspends himself briefly on tiptoe without the support of footwear as another spins with unbelievable rapidity and control. The dancers are accompanied onstage by a percussionist, vocalist, and bansuri (bamboo flute) player. The production is enhanced by video designer Jeremy Mimnagh’s projections of rotating circles, strips of Asian script, and a fitting closing image of the infinite symbol.

Bharatanatyam and ballet collide in B², a history-making intercultural collaboration between Khoo, Pada, and Ballet Jörgen. Four dancers from each discipline dressed in white occupy the stage, blending two distinct classical genres which at once contradict and complement one another. While the ballet dancers strive to appear weightless en pointe, the bharatanatyam dancers embrace their relationship to the ground with a constant demi-plié stance and intricate, weighty footwork. The traditional classicism inherent in both styles is what ties the piece together and Khoo emphasizes long pauses and poses as the dancers weave together, allowing viewers to adjust to this progressive paradigm. A pas de deux between two males further pushes through barriers of tradition as they take turns partnering one another, executing daring lifts and pointework in what emerges as a natural collaboration of gender and genres.

Pada is an artistic intellectual whose work is rooted in philosophical concepts. Her varied work ranges from the deeply profound and tragic, referring to her work Revealed by Fire (2003) which dealt with the loss of her husband and two daughters in the 1985 Air India terrorist attacks, to lighter matter such as Cricket (2005) about India’s sporting obsession. Pada can be credited for bringing the two thousand year old bharatanatyam dance form onto Canada’s main stages with Sampradaya Dance Creation, retaining tradition while exhibiting contemporary innovation which leaves nothing to be lost in translation.

May 1-3 at Enwave Theatre (Harbourfront)

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

In honour of Asian Heritage month (this month!), the CanAsian International Dance Festival offered a smorgasbord of world-class pan-Asian dance, presented through three different programs of five dance works at Enwave Theatre. Now celebrating its 10^th anniversary, the festival plays an important role in Canada’s multicultural dance landscape, exposing traditional and cutting-edge contemporary dance forms and live music from India, Indonesia, China, Korea and Japan. Featured choreographers this year included Hari Krishnan, Peter Chin, Wen Wei Wang, Soojung Kwon, Guru Sri Devraj Patnaik, and Natsu Kakajima. The outstanding works ranged from classical to experimental, both amusing and poignant, and one dance included a magnificent twist that echo’s Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game.

Programme A comprised of Toronto-based inDance’s Uma, a work focused on Bharatanatyam dance, and Mind’s Hammer by Peter Chin’s Tribal Crackling Wind, in association with Evergreen Club Contemporary Gamelan. Uma, a solo which explores the eroticism of the devadasi temple courtesan dancers in pre-modern South India, is accompanied by seven musicians positioned onstage in a circle around dancer Sudarshan Belsare. Belsare, elaborately dressed in rich purple fabrics with fingertips and feet painted red, performs complicated, intricate footwork with ankles bound in strings of bells, coordinated with precise hand gestures and sensual eye articulations. The dancer’s incredible presence exudes pride and power, representing an idealized image of a woman as a virgin, lover, wife, and goddess. Oh yeah, did I mention that the beautiful Belsare is in fact a man?! Depicted through the medium of stri-vesham (female impersonation), the work merges tradition and modernity through wildly pleasurable means.

Mind’s Hammer displays similar flamboyancy through Peter Chin’s succinct, staccato movements, as he deftly crosses the stage like a leprechaun after Lucky Charms. His eyes are often closed as he shakes his head violently, perhaps attempting to awake from a nightmare, or simply mad from a marshmallowy sugar high. The highlight of the piece is the exotic music by Canada’s first performing gamelan (an Indonesian gong instrument) ensemble, whose clinking and clanking on gold pots visibly taunt Chin.

Programme B included an excerpt of Wen Wei’s One Man’s, and the world premieres of Kwon’s The Choonengmu Project and Patnaik’s Kedar Pallavi. One Man’s fuses movement, storytelling, film and music in a compelling autobiographical solo which communicates Wen Wei’s life experiences in China and Canada. China’s pet genocide occurred during Wen Wei’s childhood, forcing him to slaughter and consume his beloved pet chicken, leaving him with a happy stomach but a hurting heart. This evocative allegory is supported by animalistic movement combining ballet, martial arts and meditation, set against a projection of Chinese market stalls and ambient noise.

The Choonengmu Project, based on a 19^th-century classical Korean court dance, deconstructs traditional canons and reinterprets the repertoire with contemporary dance vocabularies to live accompaniment. Kwon dances centre stage with graceful humility in a richly coloured, exquisitely long-sleeved costume as her collaborator Jihee Son shadows her minimal movements, every pose creating an image worthy of a Korean imperial dynasty portrait.

Chitralekha Odissi Dance Creations presented pure lyrical dance based on a Raga (melody), aptly titled Kedar Pallivi, meaning elaboration. Danced by brother and sister prodigies Devraj and Ellora in the traditional abstract Odissi style, the playful duet was a feast for the eyes, with decadent costume and body ornamentation enhancing the immaculately detailed and expressive choreography.

Unfortunately I was not able to attend Programme C, which showcased artistic director Denise Fujiwara dancing a final performance of Natsu Nakajima’s Sumida River (1994). A contemporary choreography based on the renowned 15^th century Noh play Sumidagawa by Motomasa, the story acknowledges the “difficult inner journey of a woman…[approaching] the core of the dance in a contemporary way through image, metaphor and the inner life of the dance movements” (Nakajima). As a teenager, Nakajima received training at the pioneering Kazuo Ohno Dance Institute, where she developed skills in Butoh, perhaps the most profound and expressive of all dance idioms. Nakajima and Fujiwara are key figures in exposing audiences around the world to Butoh through extensive touring of Sumida River.

From its beginnings as a small festival with a meager budget of $5,000, the CanAsian International Dance Festival dedicated itself to challenging conventional notions of pan-Asian dance and to provide a platform onto which dance artists could present diverse expressions of dance aesthetics. Since its inception in 1997 the festival has grown rapidly, having recently been awarded a Trillium Grant along with government and non-profit foundation support, bringing its budget to a respectable $200,000. Everyone involved in the festival, including its dancers, supporters and audience, has proven to be invaluable in bringing awareness to multicultural dance forms. No longer hidden within the fringes, pan-Asian dance, imbued with quality and curiosity, rightfully occupies an important position at the forefront of the Toronto dance world.

DanceWorks Mainstage Series presents Adelheid Solos
April 24-26 @ Enwave Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Toronto-based dance artist Heidi Strauss recently returned from Prague to present Adelheid Solos, a multimedia programme consisting of a remount of her 2002 work Das Martyrium (a haunting portrayal of madness inspired in part by Joan of Arc), as well as the world premiere of her newly created solo Ohne, which examines memory and the process of starting over. The word Adelheid, meaning ‘exalted nature’ or noble intent, is the root word from which Strauss’ name is derived, and is a fitting description of the work’s relationship between history and the present.

As a graduate of the School of Toronto Dance Theatre, Strauss has spent the past 14 years establishing herself as an independent dancer, having founded an environmental activist group called Earthdancers in 1989, acting as co-artistic director of Four Chambers dance projects, as well as choreographing, teaching and writing. This highly intelligent, motivated artist methodically researched thematic ideas for Adelheid Solos, communicating sophisticated theory within a concise physical monologue integrating text, theatre, video and an abstract score by Jeremy Mimnagh.

Das Martyrium functions as a tribute to exalted heroes, depicted by Strauss through several passionate female figures including Joan of Arc and an autistic schoolmate from Strauss’s childhood named Emma, both of whom are possessed by imaginations beyond their control. The piece at first appears to run the gamut of cliché contemporary interpretive dance, including repetitive “organic” movement, mimed hand gestures (somewhere between sign language and charades), and the use of props (in this case a sword and fencing mask); all this to a soundtrack of trickling water and fragments of conversation, both English and German. As the theory behind Strauss’s choreographic choices unfold however, it is clear that there is a method to her madness, as rich imagery and symbolism are revealed within the small confined area of center stage in which she isolates herself. With hands and knees bound in dressings, Strauss emerges both as a vulnerable fighter and strong survivor.

Ohne may appear quite similar to Das Martyrium in terms of movement vocabulary, but the story involves more abstract concepts, depicting less of a defined character. Ohne, meaning ‘without,’ explores expectation and the process of starting over, as Strauss repeatedly falls violently to the ground only to spring back up and continue moving with precision, twisting and curling her limbs and torso. The work delves into deeper psychological territory regarding the relationship between reality and imagination, dividing the dance into two worlds, represented through drastic light changes. When the stage is brightly lit, Strauss compulsively sets up the stage floor, pacing back and forth in her heels as she nervously shakes her keys, scratches her head and acknowledges the audience as voyeurs of her immediate experiences. As reality passes into an external realm, one represented by darkness, highlighted only by small kaleidoscopic fragments of colour, Strauss appears to be reliving the past. A frightening, ghost-like image projected on the backdrop suggests a tormented history which she is unable to escape.

Strauss’s interpretive dance is highly cerebral, but boarders on the inaccessible towards newer dance audiences. Reading reviews from various sources, it is evident that not everyone comprehends the deeply layered work, which at first glance appears simplistic-almost formulaic. It is the kind of material that forces the viewer to think deeper about the messages or concepts being conveyed. Strauss herself speculates that contemporary dance is often overlooked due to the fear “of not getting it.” Judging by the small audience, the majority of which were colleagues and friends of the artist, contemporary dance certainly lacks the draw that other art forms possess.

Work such as Adelheid Solos definitely merit wide attention and close investigation. Patience is the key here; a dancer is rarely compelled to devote so much time and effort into creating a meaningless sequence of movement. Clues relating to the work’s meaning, whether literal or abstract (or both in the case of Adelheid Solos) can be extracted and translated from various areas of the overall stage production, including movement, sound, lighting, video, and props. Of course, if all else fails, there’s always the programme notes!

Pleasure Dome & Images Festival presents:
Hail the New Puritan (1985/86 84:47) +
Charles Atlas live with Alan Licht
April 9, 11 @ Joseph Workman Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

With his trademark orange carrot-shaped sideburns disconnected from his silver hair, and a bright yellow SpongeBob t-shirt covering his slight physique, NYC video pioneer Charles Atlas does little to resemble the famous bodybuilder that shared his name. Atlas made his inaugural visit to Toronto last week for the 21^st Images Festival, which showcased contemporary moving image culture from April 3-13. Audiences were granted not only with a rare glimpse of the Canadian premiere of Hail the New Puritan (1986), Atlas’ cinéma vérité style film revolving around the Scottish-born post-punk dancer and choreographer Michael Clark, but were also provided with the opportunity to attend a lecture and discussion with the filmmaker in person, as well as witness a world premiere media experiment with composer/guitarist Alan Licht in an intensely visceral live performance.

The dynamic diary film, Hail the New Puritan, inspired by the Beatles’ dancing movie A Hard Days Night, documents the daily life of Britain’s bad boy of ballet Michael Clark in a pastiche of narrative, performance and fantasy. It follows his professional life as director of his anarchic dance company, and also offers a glimpse into his personal life as he lustily mingles with numerous London scenesters including bi-sexual clubgoer and original party monster Leigh Bowery. “What I was trying to do was put Michael’s work in a context where you wouldn’t need an explanation,” Atlas explains, acknowledging the ethics involved in collaborating with dancers (one must not upstage them).

Clark’s dancers flaunt bare bottoms, fake bosoms, platform shoes and bizarre make-up, embodying a decadent subculture of androgyny and absurdity juxtaposed by a dispossessed, Thatcher-era landscape; all this to a wicked soundtrack of music by Glenn Branca, The Fall, and Wire’s Bruce Gilbert. It is Clark’s solid base in classicism which allows him to maintain a purity of form while challenging and redefining his outrageous combination of high art and pop culture, exhibited through the lens of Atlas’ camera.

The live screen segment of Atlas’ last day in residency with the festival comprised of a collaboration among Atlas and electronic musician Licht, in which both artists improvised to create a collage of image and sound. Atlas worked at one end of the large screen at the Theatre, mixing and manipulating sampled stock footage and prepared loops of various Stanley Brakhage video processed through numerous laptops, DVD players and a mixer. Psychedelic shapes and colours initiate transitions from footage of a body builder layered over a damsel in distress to cameos of a crazed Bugs Bunny and Mariah Carey, deriving new meaning from Brackhage’s already experimental work. At the other end Licht sat with his electric guitar surrounded by half a dozen distortion pedals, generating minimalist noise into waves of volume, feedback and drone to create a sensual, sometimes violent audio accompaniment to the visual content. The two artists interacted in a loose partnership, playing off each other’s techniques in a non-specific manner, resulting in a layered, dreamlike atmosphere of visual music.

Atlas is a scientist at merging performance and media art, having created a prolific body of work that spans four decades and includes a long list of international collaborators. From his beginnings as a Super 8 filmmaker in the 1970s, Atlas has gone on to create 114 films, many of which have been exhibited at festivals and institutions around the world. Video performance has been an integral part of his practice since his early days with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company from 1974-83 where he produced ten works in collaboration with the choreographer-musician John Cage. He recently admits to becoming a Cagean, having accidentally developed a more chance-driven methodology from what he considers to be his classical training with the Cunningham Company.

Lately Atlas has worked within the live concert setting, in which he brings laptop computers into the theatre to create video montages. He recently collaborated with the New York-based band Antony and the Johnsons in Turning (on which he’s currently completing a documentary), and is also in the process of creating a film version of Cunningham’s ambitious work Ocean. At fifty, Atlas continues to challenge the possibilities of technology using both controlled and spontaneous techniques, constantly striving for variety and newness. His work remains inspirational to contemporary artists in multiple fields, proving indeed that media art matters.

Kaeja d’Dance presents Abattoir

March 25, 27-29 at Premiere Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

“Guts, liver, kidneys, heart…Oh, the beauty of the movement of flesh against the gleaming metal.” These words, recited by actor Aaron Willis as he dances in unison with the six other members of Kaeja d’Dance, accurately describe the theme of the company’s multi-disciplinary production Abattoir.

Inspired by co-artistic director Allen Kaeja’s childhood working at his father’s kosher butcher shop in Kitchener, the edgy work, which layers dance with new-opera, music, and theatre, explores human conditioning through the rite of passage of Jacob, a young boy learning the art of animal processing. Grisly groans initiated by Allen’s life partner Karen begin the show as bodies are revealed, emulating animals though intensely physical movement. The dancers violently hurl their slouching bodies to the ground and suspend one another upside down in the air using partners’ bodies like a butcher tool slicing through space.

The Kaeja’s signature style, which deconstructs the dictum of traditional partnering, is conceived through a combination of Allen’s background in wrestling and Karen’s roots in modern dance. The contradictory dynamics inherent in their cerebral and abstract work blends explosive athleticism with sensual, fluid lyricism to create a kinetic, androgynous movement vocabulary that conveys the rhythm and beauty of the slaughterhouse.

The work appears to be an authentic collaboration among all aspects of theatrical production. Patterns of light by designer Reolof Peter Snippe articulate a mysterious atmosphere, making the bare stage appear simultaneously stark and sanguine. The industrial score by composer Edgardo Moreno is layered with abstract vocals from new-opera artist Fides Krucker, text by Jason Sherman, and chanting of the dancers.

Although it contains enough gruesome imagery to make Hannibal Lecter convert to vegetarianism, Abattoir does not pass judgment upon the ethics of the production of meat, which can be at once cruel and beautiful. As an open metaphor for life, it reveals the deeper psychological impact of the person whose job it is to slaughter and the ways that person associates with or disassociates from the creature being killed. For Allen, a devout pescetarian, the abattoir instilled in him a deep respect for life.

Abattoir is a captivating addition to the Kaeja’s repertoire, which includes productions for the stage as well as award-winning dance films and educational and outreach programs. The work is accessible to wide audiences, and at just over an hour, it never felt too long. It just left me hungry for more.

Mixed Emotions for the National Ballet’s mixed program

March 8-16 at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Dancers of the National Ballet of Canada hung up their tutus and gave their tippy toes a rest for the latest mixed program presented by artistic director Karen Kain. Featuring the most contemporary, commercial repertoire the company has seen in years, the company was noticeably desperate to fill seats and redeem the increased costs of production at the Four Seasons Centre, employing hip marketing schemes portraying the seductive Aleksandar Antonijevic as the alpha-cock of the Rolling Stone’s based Rooster. Despite the best of efforts, the program failed to deliver satisfaction as audience attention spans turned on, tuned in, and quickly dropped out.

Quebec choreographer Marie Chouinard, a recently appointed officer of the Order of Canada, opened the program with 24 Preludes by Chopin (1999). The work, which explores the tension between the formal and emotional, challenges traditional movement and music associations by deconstructing Chopin’s romantic score, combined with animalistic movement that included more strutting and preening than Rooster itself. The 17 dancers transition between a series of small groups and ensemble pieces, with undulating, liquid torsos in see-through black leotards with strategically placed bars of opaque fabric.

It was shocking to see a work so overly spiced with contrasting dynamics and arbitrary gimmicks, including a random recital of the musical scale by one dancer (in French), and an impromptu game of soccer. I’d like to think that there was some metaphor intended, but I’m more inclined to believe that Chouinard is simply taking the piss out of the audience and her commissioners. If there was indeed humour and irony in the anticlimactic work, its relevance was unclear, and regrettably failed to do justice to Jean-Francois Latour’s poignant piano solo. The sole redeeming quality of this hodgepodge was Guillaume Côté’s half-naked body pogo-ing up and down, and a short solo in which a dancer spins with increasing centrifugal force, appearing as a cross between a grotesque butoh dancer and whirling dervish; portraying qualities which uncannily paralleled my dizzy, nauseating sentiment towards the rest of the work.

Sandwiched between 24 Preludes and Rooster was Jiří Kilián’s Soldier’s Mass (1980), an intensely sorrowful and hopeful tribute to unknown soldiers which finds relevance in the current war climate. Kilián’s affinity for choreographing seamless transitions from closely structured unified patterns to looser configurations allows him to evoke images of a community of male soldiers huddled tightly in trenches, and as swaying targets spread out in the distance. His talent also lies in the ability to convey deep emotion through minimal movements, allowing music and choreography to assume equal responsibility. Czech born Bohuslav Martinů provided the score, which included baritone soloist Joseph Song Chi’s haunting accompaniment of the Toronto Mendelssohn chorus members. Unlike Chouinard, Kilián’s work creates a sense of anticipation and momentum which builds to a powerful climax, and creates an atmosphere in which the dancers embody their characters with clear intent.

Last and by far least was Rooster (1991), British choreographer Christopher Bruce’s irritatingly lyrical take on the battle of the sexes in swinging sixties Britain, to a soundtrack of eight nostalgic Rolling Stones hits. Cocky men in colourful Austin Powers attire and demure women in far less exciting garb performed stylized, exaggerated choreography and gestures meant to mimic Mick Jagger’s trademark strut, in a kitschy modern jazz style which lacked the impressive turns, tours and other tricks that the company is capable of performing.

Although the majority of the program didn’t impress, there is much to say for the versatility of the dancers, who conquered the difficult task of retraining their bodies to perform contemporary styles so different from the classical idiom embedded in their muscle memory. It was a clever marketing scheme on Kain’s behalf to lure audiences with a marketable draw like Rooster, while including Soldier’s Mass as the true masterpiece. Results of her efforts were evident in sold-out shows and an influx of dance discussions by bloggers just discovering dance. Hopefully this new inexperienced audience, which applauded confusedly at every unnecessary point throughout the performance, will remain loyal to the National Ballet, so that it can satisfy its quota without selling out its long-enduring integrity. I continue to stay hopeful for the remaining dance season, but I also recognize that you can’t always get what you want.