The Joyce Theater's French Collection series--presenting provocative contemporary dance troupes from France--continues, now through Sunday, with Compagnie Maguy Marin's Umwelt. On opening night, at various points over the company's hour upon the stage, roughly two dozen audience members headed for the exits. I cannot say what drove them off because, despite having been "warned" about the production, I was utterly rivetted and captivated.
Perhaps the problem for some was the relentless, industrial-like roar of the music produced by continuous, mechanized drawing of a cord across the strings of three amplified guitars lying on the stage's floor. I suspect most of the audience had not availed themselves of the earplugs thoughtfully supplied by the Joyce and mainly ignored by its ushers. I had forgotten to bring a pair from home and was glad to spy them resting in a heap on the floor near the Joyce's piano. I spent the next hour in comfort, removing the plugs a few times only out of curiosity.
Then again, some of the audience, expecting to see dance with some variation on a capital D, might have objected to Umwelt's repetitive, un-dance-like movement. Sum that up in several literally-pedestrian walking steps--backward to enter, crossing to shift to the side, then forward to exit--that represent the core of the movement for the nine performers within the claustrophobic confines of a forest of wobbling funhouse mirrored panels that span the stage. With notable exceptions, that's it for each of many, many interations of the dancers' roughly ten seconds of visibility. But here's the kicker: the numerous changes in costuming and props are the elements that offer the primary variety within this sameness--glimpses of bits of human life, all of them precise but none of them remarkable, none more significant than any other. Wearing a crown is no different than toting a bag of trash.
Buffeted by wind--as if caught in life's unmerciful wind tunnel--dancers trod their (mainly) circular paths, coming into view to give us a fleeting impression of who they are and whatever little, immediate thing they're consumed in doing, before striding behind their concealing panel. Their places are immediately taken by another set of folks. The whole cast rotates like this throughout with rare, enigmatic moments of stillness when a single dancer emerges to stare out at the audience.
Marin's stage is a huge machine, an Existentialist's Swiss clock, with awesomely synchronized parts (the dancers) and dramatic lighting that vivifies flesh and costume colors. I know I slipped into a trance watching it because I could feel the moment when I snapped out of it. I found the whole production visually dazzling and convincing.
I also saw The French Collection's opening company--Heddy Maalem's troupe of dancers who hail from Africa--in their version of Le Sacre du printemps. I'll let you know when that review comes out on DanceMagazine.com.
For ticketing and more information on Compagnie Maguy Marin's presentation of Umwelt or for the upcoming Ballet Biarritz (directed by Thierry Malandain), click here or call 212-242-0800.
Your comments were excellent, far better than the claptrap written in the program guide. The dancers' precision and timing was admirable, but I think the only reason I stayed was to see if it would evolve into something that was more comprehensible to me. Why did they feel it necessary to have such loud "music"?
ReplyDeleteHi, Arlene! Thanks so much for your reply to the review. Gotta say I've been at shows where I thought the music was far more damaging to my nerves than Denis Mariotte's design for Umwelt. About program notes (and press releases, for that matter), I sometimes find them, shall we say, unhelpful and distracting. So, for the sake of journalistic responsibility, I will dutifully read 'em through and file 'em away. But I try to meet each performance fresh because sometimes it appears that the publicity addresses things that may no longer be true about the piece or were originally pumped up in order to have something specific and impressive and attractive to set before prospective funders, presenters, media and audiences. This is not at all to say that I feel that was the case with Umwelt. With Umwelt, I definitely went in there with a sense of receptiveness (and a pair of earplugs), and I felt rewarded. I sat there and immediately felt that I "got" it, and the mastery of the thing knocked me out. But I think it's definitely possible to miss the point (and the value) of a work of art if you get sidetracked by advance material. It might even be worthwhile to experiment with reading all of that stuff afterwards and see if it squares up with what you saw, felt and thought.
ReplyDeleteThanks again!
Eva :-)