Do the flailbox (again)

Cloud Dance Festival on Friday made me want to write Flailbox again. Mainly because dancers need to get the message that USING TEXT DOESN’T MAKE YOU LOOK SMARTER AND ALMOST DEFINITELY DETRACTS FROM YOUR CHOREOGRAPHY UNLESS YOU’RE COMPLETELY AWESOME. It’s true. Come on. Dance pieces shouldn’t need dancers to speak the dance should speak for itself. Dancers speaking in dance pieces just make the audience feel uncomfortable. And if they then eat oranges, regurgitate them, take off all their clothes, put them in a bucket of water and then put them back on again, expect total audience alienation and not universal acclaim for your depth and insight (yes, that actually happened). I’ll grant an exception for  Taciturn, though cos Scouse pleasantries are always acceptable).

Considering Cloud Dance put on upwards of 8 acts a night, they’re always enjoyable bills. This time I really liked 3 pieces, was surprised by one, annoyed by another and rolled my eyes at two. But large glasses of wine are only £3.50 at the Cochrane so it all went down pretty well. Mandy from SYTYCD was in the audience and when Sol Dans came on for their bit it all made sense. Thos was surely where she’d come from – all acrobatics, ‘lyrical’, impassioned, yearning, bonkers athleticism – and indeed, turns out the choreography, Melody Squires, helped her out with her SYTYCD solos. Sol Dans, incidentally – kind of awesome but wibbly on Friday. I imagine when they’re on top form they’re gobstopping, if – unfortunately – a bit Spelbound.

So I’m back for a bit of flailing. And in real life, I’ve been back at ballet classes myself for almost a year now. Summer school in August where I’m learning some Giselle.

NB, I’ve laid off dance writing for a while but the most thrilling things I’ve seen lately were Rambert’s spring show from the stalls seats at Sadlers (Linha Curva woop woop woop) and Michael Clark’s Come Been Gone for the second time at Barbican. Seriously heart racing, hand clasping, sweaty palm stuff. Which makes you remember why you go to all this dance – sometimes it just makes you want to explode. In a good way.

Get you some dance in ’07

Happy flailing new year! Now, go get you some dance. Three ace recommendations:

1. London’s International Mime festival

Catch the premiere of a new full length work called Arc at the Linbury Studio of the Royal Opera House, 22-23 January. The Company, Ockham’s Razor, is a group of aerialistes who combine mime, dance and excellently clever aerialistics to tell simple stories beautifully. I saw them perform at last year’s Resolution! and they were a breath of fresh air. Tickets for Arc are only £10-£15 (£8 concessions) and it’s a 90 minute show with an interval. The Linbury is an intimate studio theatre beneath the Opera House with a bar decked out with great dance photos and truly excellent toilet facilities. These things are important, I know.

2. Sadlers Wells Sampled

There’s a brand new, exciting thing happening at Sadlers that’s IDEAL for flailers. On 2-4 February they’re putting on a mini festival of dance featuring 3 nights of mixed bill performances by lots of different companies and two days of FREE taster classes and workshops for those who fancy having a go at breaking, tapping, flamenco, contemporary, tae-kwon-do and ballet. The evening performance on Friday looks especially tasty to me including a cutting edge contemporary duet from Random Dance (under the directorship of the truly funky and wonderful Wayne McGregor), tap, hip-hop and, to end, the mesmerising “Swamp”, created by Michael Clark and performed by Rambert Dance Company. This piece alone is worth the meagre £10 ticket tag (£5 for a proms ticket if you’re willing to stand). Workshop places are only available to those who’ve bought an evening ticket so get booking now as places are limited.

3. And remember, Resolution! is on at The Place, Euston between 5-31 January. You never know what might happen. Full listings here.

See you there!

Mmm… yeah…

Mmm…. Stravinsky Project Part 2
Dance Umbrella 2006 (III)
Barbican, 30 October 2006

 

A punter coming to a Michael Clark performance with no prior knowledge or inkling of what they were in for would be pretty intrigued by the programme cover. Naked female dancer arched backwards, breasts bared skywards, with slicked down painted on additional black hair and a Hitler mustache.

It’s not going to be Swan Lake.

The dancer is in fact, barely recognisably, Amy Hollingsworth; until recently the darling of Rambert and a key member of Bonachela’s new venture. She’s joyously right at home with Clark. Annoyingly, Clark doesn’t do pics with his dancers’ bios so I’m sticking my neck out after a google search that it’s Melissa Hetherington, but I was mesmerised by her. Fabulously massive eyes topping an incredibly strong, agile and beautiful tiny body – she was particularly stunning during “Rite..” in a vagina defying split leg catsuit. Tit tape at work or Bodymap magic? You decide.

The show opens with four pieces set to music by Wire, PiL, Sondheim’s Send in the Clowns and Sex Pistols’ Submission. Clark is famous for his beautiful lines and here they cut subtly and deliberately through the raw rock basslines. The costuming is integral to the performance, black catsuits and wigs uniformly emphasising the dancers’ classical training and utter control. The second piece is particularly wonderful. Hardly anything happens. Long, slow walks in fawn and black catsuits with arched bodies and impossibly extended legs. The soundtrack screeches “I wish I could die” as the dancers calmly, pervertedly patrol the stage. “Bored” flashes up on the backscreen, challenging the audience’s reaction; impossible to be bored entranced by this.

Already coined by someone else, “the muff dance“, the third movement sees the entire company audaciously naked, bar purple arm muffs which reach from elbow to elbow, the dancers’ arms demurely held obscuring their genitals. For once, the nudity doesn’t distract from the dance. The sculptured bodies are a pleasure to watch and their slow progress is incredibly beautiful. On the backdrop the Mona Lisa slowly transforms into Elizabeth Taylor. Back to the rock and a clip of the wonderfully posh singing teacher that tried to tackle Sid Vicious. Then an orange lit stage with the company in a variety of white pants and billowy tops in a frenzied, disco onslaught. Just stunning.

And so, to the Rite of Spring. I had to do a bit of research here. Despite my childhood spent earnestly reading every ballet book I could get my hands on my knowledge of this infamous Ballet Russes/Stravinsky collaboration is pretty shameful. However, even in spite that, you can see where this is coming from. It’s a pagan spree, all earth and fecundity. The dancers may bear stick on bald patches and have sparkly noses but you get the whole spring thing. Stravinsky’s score, played here by two pianists/four hands is fabulously rhythmic and primal. Odd things happen. Dancers with toilet seats around their necks, a marshmallow creature like the one out of Ghostbusters (but apparently a joke representation of a pregnant Mother Earth that’s a tribute to Leigh Bowery) and the ‘how now sacred wow’ phrase. But it’s Amy’s turn as the Chosen One, that ends the piece and really makes an impression. Dressed in just an oversize pair of white pants and a hitler mustache she dances an incredibly dramatic, Nijinsky-esque solo that seems to be the antithesis of the sacrificial virgin. Whatever, it’s a bold and dominating performance.

The ‘Rite’ section may be odd, but Mmm… as a show is full of colour, beauty, humour and striking images. There’s a happy balance of choreographic intent, idea, music and homage without annoying pretentiousness. It’s a show you emerge from with a sense of wow and a longing to see it again.

Take: best mates, boyfs, girlfs, parents, first dates, foreign exchange students and those who think they’re arty.

Read what the press thought at londondance.com