My Interview with Ohad Naharin in The Brooklyn Rail
March 9, 2012
Batsheva Dance Company in Ohad Naharin's "Hora", photo by Gadi Dagon
Last month, I had the privilege of speaking with Batsheva Dance Company’s artistic director, Ohad Naharin. Our conversation is in this month’s issue of The Brooklyn Rail. Also in this issue: Nancy Dalva talks with Paul Taylor, Siobhan Burke reviews Pat Catterson’s To Lie in the Sky (sad that I missed it!), and Christine Hou reviews works by Vanessa Anspaugh and Jen Rosenblit at New York Live Arts. Take a look. Many thanks to the Rail’s dance editor – and my fellow blogger – Ryan Wenzel for making it all happen.
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Writing About Gaga for BAM
February 26, 2012
BAM asked me to share some thoughts on Gaga, the movement language created by Batsheva Dance Company’s artistic director Ohad Naharin, in anticipation of the company’s performances next month at the BAM Howard Gilman Opera House. I was happy to do so, and am looking forward to seeing Batsheva in Hora. You can read my blog post here, and enjoy the above footage from MAX.
Pina in 3-D
December 20, 2011
Pina, Wim Wenders’ beautiful new film that captures the dance world of German choreographer Pina Bausch in 3-D, arrives in NYC on December 23rd. I was lucky enough to catch a preview screening of the film at BAM in October, and as a BAM intern, I happily wrote about it for BAM’s December staff pick. You can read my thoughts on Pina here. Watch the trailer below, and check out the Facebook page for more info on screenings.
I Believe in Forsythe’s “Outer Space”
October 28, 2011
William Forsythe's "I don't believe in outer space", photo by Dominik Mentzos
I’m still processing William Forsythe’s I don’t believe in outer space, which opened at BAM on Wednesday evening. For the first twenty minutes or so, I worried that it was going to be a repeat of Decreation, which I reviewed in 2009. That work was irritating, but the harsh and jarring qualities of the piece were ultimately a commentary on how we communicate with one another. And so with outer space, it initially felt and looked quite similar, with exaggerated voices, chaotic interactions, and disorienting sounds. But as the piece progressed and mixed hilarious use of lyrics from Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” with profound reflections on mortality, I was deeply moved. And how satisfying to watch as the various threads from the work came together and cohered. Just when it ended – after a poignant scene in which the audience heard Dana Caspersen’s natural voice (as opposed to her exaggerated ‘character’ voices earlier in the work) – I wasn’t quite ready to let go, and clung to the final moments of outer space for as long as I could. Forsythe’s work has always challenged me, and has even bothered me at times. Outer space was no exception. But it struck a chord more so than previous Forsythe works that I’ve seen, perhaps because it so smartly – albeit still messily – blended humor with sadness.
A final thought: The New York Times review says that the characters we see are “freaks”, possibly meant to be laughed at, and that Forsythe creates a “hellish anti-world”. Freaks? No, I’m certain that the characters we see are us. We laugh because we recognize ourselves in these characters. And Forsythe’s “hellish anti-world”? That’s our world.
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Ballet Maribor’s Radio(head) and Juliet
October 23, 2011
Edward Clug's "Radio and Juliet", photo courtesy of 6-Prime
Take Shakespeare’s tragic love story, add music by the influential band Radiohead and some slick choreography, and what do you get? Radio and Juliet, choreographer Edward Clug’s 2006 ballet for the Romanian company Ballet Maribor. Performed on Friday and Saturday at NYU’s Skirball Center for the Performing Arts, the ballet drew dance and Radiohead fans alike, eager to see what would happen when Shakespeare is added to the mix.
Clug is both brave and foolish for marrying the two. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet has been choreographed so many times that to add another version to the books – one that the choreographer thinks will be unique – is ambitious. And Radiohead is so universally appreciated (or perhaps detested, but I fall into the former category) on its own that it’s difficult to imagine the band’s music paired with the world’s best-known love story. Can the work of two distinct, global, and expressive artists not only compliment one another but also enrich each other? The answer in this case is overwhelmingly no. Radio and Juliet felt gimmicky: people love the tale of star-crossed lovers, and they love Radiohead. So they’ll love the two together, or at least, fill up a theater, right?
There are a few distinguishing factors in this version. The story begins with Juliet awakening to find Romeo dead beside her, and evolves in a flashback. The cast of seven includes one woman and six men, all of whom seem to represent masculinity more so than any particular character in Shakespeare’s play. And Juliet’s poison – both comical and strange – is a lemon, whose juice drips down her neck and burns her tongue. Initially, the ballet barely resembles Romeo and Juliet, but there are some familiar moments staged from the story, such as the violent death of Mercutio to Radiohead’s Sit Down. Stand Up, and the meeting of Romeo and Juliet at the masquerade ball, in which the men wear hospital masks.
Although the intention was to tell the story from Juliet’s perspective, most of the ballet focuses on the men who, while wearing black pants and open jackets, assert themselves in disconnected, aggressive, and often mechanical strings of movement. Juliet, in a corset and ballet slippers, moves with delicacy, rarely appearing alone but rather in the company of men. There is little insight into Juliet’s experience, besides the fact that clashing families and warring men overshadowed her life and conflicted with her desires, which we already know from the play.
Edward Clug's "Radio and Juliet", photo courtesy of 6-Prime
At its worst, the ballet relies too heavily on approximately ten Radiohead tracks for emotional expression and lets the characters rush through their angular, William Forsythe-influenced movement without any feeling at all. Shouldn’t such angst-ridden characters pause and reflect on their circumstances rather than depend on propulsive music – and often gut-wrenching lyrics – for expression? It was irritating to see the first pas de deux for Romeo and Juliet set to How to Disappear Completely, in which Thom Yorke sings, “In a little while, I’ll be gone, the moment’s already passed.” The music shouldn’t be telling the story, but rather deepening it.
Ending abruptly, it seemed like Clug either ran out of choreography or couldn’t find an appropriate Radiohead track for the conclusion. But the suddenness spoke volumes about the mismatched influences in Radio and Juliet. Together, Radiohead and Shakespeare were limiting, and the production suffered because of it. Pulling inspiration from many threads is, in theory, a good idea. But when tied all together without first determining how they align and augment one another, the outcome is flawed.
