La Mama: "Atomic City"

There is a visually stunning and not very well publicized production at La Mama that will be running through September 28. Atomic City is a clever composit of dance, theater and live music that takes spectators into the lives of two neighboring families whose troubled patres familias both work as physicists in the town’s laboratory. The plot of the performance unravels slowly, as we learn about the characters’ relationships to each other, and observe them interacting through dance, words and song. Indeed, one of the strongest aspects of the piece lies in the balance of different performance forms that take turns at telling the story. For example, just as a spoken introduction to the piece seems to point us in the direction of a wordy theatrical work, the nimble bodied orator (Karl Sørensen) ends his prologue and throws himself into an extremely physical dance phrase filled with suspensions and inversions, all emphasized by a spotlight that gives his dance a dramatic twist.

The cast for Atomic City is also a combination, a mix of artists with different backgrounds and nationalities: there are two musicians from Sweden, two Danish dancers, a physical theatre performer from Guatemala, and an acrobatic dancer and mover from the US. More generally, the work is a collaboration between the Danish company Terranova and US performer and producer Jon Morris (Fuerzabruta, Cirque du Soleil). They produced the piece in an intensive residency this summer at Robert Wilson’s Watermill Center, and this in New York is their premiere. Probably because the piece is so new, there is a raw quality to it that makes the work exciting: these artists are taking risks with their bodies and their voices, in a collaboration that has pushed each one of them to a new place in their artistic practice.

When something does not run so smoothly (some of the harmonizing could use a little more practice!) the visuals of the piece by and large make up for it. The set for Atomic City beautifully contrasts the darkness of the performance space with white panels of waxed paper and a green square of fake grass. Spectators sit on opposite sides of the square, a choice that is elegantly exploited several times during the performance by movable wall divisions and the different facings of the performers. Apart from one character, “the gatekeeper”, soberly dressed in grey shades, all the performers wear white costumes. The result is a bright and clean look, easily associated with snow or the stark light of an atomic explosion.

Atomic City is at once readable and abstract: “a recipe for pie and one for destruction”, as described in the flyers for the show. This young group of international artists from different disciplines has created a unique world within the La Mama Annex theatre, a white city in which, as one of the physicists claims, “we are suspended in language”, as well as in sound and movement. In this secret place, human relations unfold playfully and painfully through beautifully physical phrases of movement and broken fragments of language. With its light humor and poetic aesthetic, Atomic City is a promising collaboration, one that should not be overlooked.

The Annex

September 11 - 28, 2008
Thursday - Saturday at 7:30pm
Sunday at 2:30pm & 7:30pm

Tickets $25
purchase tickets online

French Institute Alliance Française: “While We Were Holding It Together”.

Ivana Müller’s While We Were Holding It Together is a very still dance piece currently showing at FIAF (French Institute Alliance Française). In this work, the Croatian born choreographer has brought together a cast of five performers whose central task for the piece is to remain immobile, living sculptures posing in a tableau in the middle of an empty, black stage. The minimalistic design for the stage, combined with the stark lighting and every day wear of the performers, is meant to free the imagination of the spectator, opening up interpretation as to what these characters are actually doing. As becomes clear very early in the piece, While We Were Holding It Together centers primarily on the experience of the spectator in the theater and the process of perception involved in participating in a theatrical event. The performers seem to tell us that we, the audience members, are responsible for “holding it together”: without our contribution, there could be no performance.

For over an hour, the five performers involve the audience in a process of constant re-imagination, as they describe alternative scenarios to explain their physical condition. Seemingly caught in the stillness of their bodies, the performers speak: “I imagine we are in a forest”, “I imagine I am sick”, “I imagine we are stored into a large container”, “I imagine a family weekend”, and so on. The vignettes that ensue are at times funny, at times touching, and at one point even attempt to be erotic. Müller and her performers successfully maintain a light touch throughout what, we imagine, might otherwise be a tedious experiment. Unfortunately the humor involved in the piece is often predictable: the whole performance plays off of the endless exploration and absurd creations of the imagination, leveraging on the inexplicable stillness of the performers for contrast. This direct juxtaposition does not take many risks and openly aims at seducing the audience into collaborating with the performers: each humorous moment seeks to keep spectators from drifting away from the piece.

In the post-performance talk following Wednesday’s performance, Müller mentioned that three main questions served as the focus for the improvisation exercises that gave rise to the piece. Each performer had to ask themselves: “Who am I? What am I doing? Why am I here?” At times, it seems like those questions have been exhausted in the process of making the piece. Indeed, there is a limitless number of stories that could be tailored around the conditions of the five performers, but what next? While the solutions created for the performance are satisfying, the piece does not succeed in pushing the boundaries of a well-designed improvisation exercise.

While We Were Holding It Together is a strongly cerebral piece, not surprisingly considering Müller’s background in literature and her interest in conceptual dance. The questions addressed in the work speak directly to contemporary critical theory in the field of audience reception, making Müller’s exploration echo existing academic writing on theatre and performance. Overall, however, Müller addresses these issues with clarity, and the empathetic experience of observing the performers’ impossible attempt at stillness remains with you even after you have left the theater.

While We Were Holding It Together

FIAF

Wednesday–Friday, September 24–26, 2008 at 8pm

The Kitchen: "Anger/Nation"

Photo by Paula Court.

On entering The Kitchen this Saturday, I was curious to see how Radiohole had dealt with Chelsea's sizable performance space for the staging of ANGER/NATION, their latest production. The company usually performs at the Collapsable Hole, a theater made from two neighboring garages in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and a space they share with fellow experimental theater company Collapsable Giraffe. The Collapsable Hole is cozy and a little claustrophobic. There are no chairs, just large steps with movable pillows, which do not seat more than fifty people. Watching Radiohole in their own performance space is raw and intimate, their ultra technological sets making it feel as though you just entered a post-apocalyptic underground world: red lights, monitors every where, exposed bricks, and familiar objects used for unfamiliar purposes. It was difficult to imagine their work in the clean and fashionable Chelsea space.

Yet for their performance at The Kitchen , Radiohole successfully recreated that sense of intimacy and technological overload by using only about a third of the stage’s depth, and building a fiberglass firework-like structure that bursts towards the audience, mini monitors attached to the end of each rod, physically breaking the imaginary fourth wall between audience and stage. In this production, a large, bluish-grey, cardboard moon hangs above stage right, and the set is dissected through the middle by a ramp that ascends to a darkened backstage. Horizontal, color-changing panels act as a back drop, while on the sides and the front of the stage are visible various light and sound switches: Radiohole members usually operate all the cues in their performances.

ANGER/NATION’s set alone is like a sculpture, and could survive as an installation even when not inhabited by its performers. It is a little like a space ship, filled with light switches and monitors, almost breathing, with its changing colors and tiny movements. Yet the performers are there, all the way from the beginning: pouring beer for the audience, talking to each other, attempting drunken speeches, some of them wearing adjusted German folk dresses complete with embroidered edelweiss. For this show, Radiohole has centered around the historical character of Mrs. Carrie A. Nation (Maggie Hoffman), the “Bar Room Smasher” born in “Garrard farm, Kentucky” in 1846. After loosing her husband to drinking and sailors, Mrs. Nation takes on the quest of cleansing America of "sin and degradation" by destroying every bar she sets foot in. Like in other Radiohole productions, narrative is non-linear, and Mrs. Nation’s story appears at intervals between songs, disturbing tableaux, and violent repetitive acts, as when two of the men on stage repeatedly shoot each other’s buttocks with air guns.

About half way through the performance, pink American flags make their appearance on the background monitors, and Mrs. Nation declares that all will participate in her crusade: more specifically “if they are women, they will join [her], and if they are boys, they will follow [her] unwillingly”. Mrs. Nation’s crusade, with its conservative thrust and Born-Again Christian overtones, brings to mind the real world, and at one time Miss Alaska runner-up, Governor Sarah Palin. In fact, Radiohole’s emphasis on questions of gender and sexuality, as well as their dissection of religious zealotism, could not come at a more salient time in the history of American politics.

Mrs. Nation's crusade eventually takes on an unexpected turn, and the pregnant actress finally appears to us in a radically different attire from the widow like costume in which she first descends onto the stage. The conclusion of the performance is at once surprising and thought-provoking: disclosing it would decrease its efficacy.

ANGER/NATION deals with sex, alcohol, queerness and decadence, with great irony and without sparing the macabre and the gruesome. Filled with chauvinistic jokes, beer smashing, and unexpected props, such as the prehensile penis on actor Eric Dyer, ANGER/NATION is a visceral experience, often overwhelming, sometimes digressive, and always provocative and challenging. Radiohole’s latest production proves once again their unique position as a company on the cutting edge of performance, one taking risks and, on this occasion, breathing fresh air into the now fashionable Chelsea district. There is no one like them in New York.

Radiohole: ANGER/NATION

The Kitchen

September 24-27, 8pm

Here Arts Center: "Arias With A Twist"

A red velvet curtain slowly opens…to reveal a dark hanging curtain. After a few moments, this layer peels off as well, onto a screen of faux leopard skin. The audience laughs. We are so close to the stage and the small theater makes me hungry for more space. Every time the curtain lifts, I hope it will open up to the stage. Yet even when the leopard skin unfolds, another layer of sheer material divides the performance space from the audience. The suspense created by the peeling of all these layers is repeated in the long wait before Joey Arias, the drag star of “Arias With a Twist“, actually appears on stage. The audience is teased, our gaze at once disappointed and pleased with the repeated delay of satisfaction. We are here to see Arias, we want her, want to hear and see her performance. After all, the reviews have been raving about the show, and Here Arts has decided to extend the performance (originally planned as a four week run between June and July) all the way to December 31.

Finally Arias appears, and what ensues is a series of acts, reminiscent of a cabaret/circus hybrid, full of sex, sensuality, humor and song. And although we might be here to see Arias, Arias is not alone. She has been surrounded by the playful creations of Basil Twist, a third generation puppeteer whose imaginative use of scale, style and color well complements Arias’ performance. Simultaneously loud and intimate, “Arias With a Twist” relies on the talent of Arias and Twist to create a series of scenes loosely tied together by an intricate plot. After being abducted by aliens, Arias is dropped back on earth, where she embarks on a search for a mythical prophet. Arias’ search begins when she takes a bite off of a magic mushroom, and from here on the performance exists on the edge of hallucination. So Arias floats across the stage, while large white hands caress her and eventually dive fingers first into her vagina; she goes to hell and dances with her “boys”, two devils (puppets) endowed with ridiculously large phalluses; and finally, she reaches New York City, where she walks across Manhattan from neighborhood to neighborhood like a human Godzilla in search for a cab.

The hallucinatory quality of the performance ends in the last part of the show, when Arias returns to us as a more classic drag diva in performance. In her closing acts, Arias sings, tap dances while flossing her teeth, and finally appears on a large rotating wedding cake decorated with legs in stockings. Twists’ puppets keep her company until the end, contrasting and complementing Arias’ human presence. These performing objects work both as extensions and amplifiers of Arias’ performance, and as reminders of Arias’ uniqueness (and loneliness, as suggested by Arias’ rendition of the pop classic “All By Myself”).

In a world of puppets and play, Arias is both the human exception and the driving force behind the performance, her audacity and flaunting of all matters sex related both provocative and exhilarating. Arias’ performance pushes the boundaries of the small theater at Here Arts Center, making the space feel too tight for her masterful singing and explosive sexuality. At the same time, there is something powerful about the containment of Arias’ performance, a reminder of the contemporary political and social circumstances, not as willing to play with Arias as the spectators in the audience. Hopefully, someday Arias won’t be “all by [her] self” on the stage, a strange specimen of the human species studied by aliens from another world, and work like “Arias With a Twist” will abound outside New York City’s performance scene.

PS122: "The Passion Project"

Photo by Paula Court.

A ten-by-ten-foot cube in the middle of a dark room acts as the stage for Reid Farrington’s The Passion Project, a half hour long installation which will run through September 20 at PS122. The cube is defined by hanging ropes (these are tied into loops along the perimeter and across the top of the space), several frames holding parchment screens (leaning on the perimeter of the space), and an intermittent square of white light projected onto the floor that appears at the beginning of the performance. The stage awaits dormant, its audience encouraged to walk around it before and during the performance by Mr. Farrington himself. It is reminiscent of a cage, of a room, of a place at once distant and intimate. At times, I felt compelled to enter the stage and experience being inside, rather than outside the cube. But that is the job of Shelley Kay, the live performer who eventually enters the cube, as she said in an interview with Gia Kourlas, “walking into the throngs like a boxer”.

What ensues is an extremely physical half hour, in which Kay lifts, hangs, moves and unhooks the parchment frames from and onto different locations all around the cube. Her challenge is to catch projected images from Carl Th. Dreyer’s 1928 “The Passion of Joan of Arc”, a classic black and white silent film on the story of Joan of Arc’s condemnation and eventual death as a martyr. The film has been cut and edited by Farrington, so that for the most part what appears on the screens are close ups of different characters: Joan of Arc, of course, as well as various representatives of the orthodox clergy that broke her with long interrogations and finally had her burned. Kay moves frantically around the cube, catching an image of Joan of Arc, and letting her hang onto a loop, then running in a diagonal for the close up of a clergy man—this only lasts a few moments, than Kay kneels, puts down the frame she’s holding, and grabs another to run onto the next projection. The effect is powerful: the frames become windows, shields, tools, all necessary to piece together Joan of Arc’s story. As the performance builds up, Kay begins to sweat, her effort contrasting her physical presence with the mediated presence of the actors all around her. While we watch Kay catching images and working hard on keeping up with her cues, Farrington also stands on the side, watching. Like the men in the film, and like us spectators, only witnesses Kay’s efforts and physical challenges. An interesting echo to the projections of the clergymen on the screen.

The powerful visuals of The Passion Project are enhanced by Farrington’s sound design, a multi-layered mixture of church chants, the sound of the film’s reel being projected, the voices of people editing the film, as well as some less recognizable voices and noises. The volume of the sound sometimes reaches almost unbearable loudness, creating a physical and emotional experience for the audience. The parchment screens themselves create loud snaps every time Kay reaches out to catch an image. Like the projections on the screens, the sound is not continuous, but has a repetitive quality to it. The overall effect is a three dimensional puzzle coming together, a puzzle with many layers and not definitive form.

Farrington’s piece successfully brings the audience into the nightmare of Joan of Arc, while taking a step back from film as a medium of representation. Through Kay’s performance, Farrington breaks down and exposes the different frames from the film: Kay is literally piecing the film together. By the end of the installation, the film has become at once more and less than itself, a combination of live performance, sound art, and clips of the original film. There were moments when I wished for more distance, more ambiguity towards the inevitably tragic nature of the story. My desire might have been encouraged by almost unidentifiable moments of humor in the installation (for instance, when Joan of Arc is being burned and on one of the screens there appears: “Jesus!”). Kay’s performance, although based on cues and tasks, sometimes overly amplified the evident suffering already on display in the projections of Joan of Arc. Yet overall the piece opened up the original film in unexpected ways, the installation offering a perfect medium through which to present the work. Anyone interested in video, dance, or installation performance should not miss Farrington's latest work.

My weekend.

Back from a summer away from New York and from the country, with often limited internet access and even more limited access to theater, dance and music events. This is a short blog to let you know what I will be doing this weekend, hoping my plans will interest you.

Tonight (Thursday, Sept. 11): I will head over to the Ontological Hysteric Theater to see The Brainum Bros. & Sons Theatrical Outfit’s The 2 Sisters; or Douglas Mery, Next to Nothing (8pm). From the website: “ridiculous humor and chilling horror ride roughshod over traditional apocalyptic storytelling. Two clairvoyant sisters have journeyed into the wilderness in search of their long lost mother; instead they find a man without a future, perform brain surgery, and reveal the contents of their underwear drawer”.

Friday, Sept. 12: Join me at The Stone to participate in “a night of music and madness” in support for this great venue. John Zorn will play the sax, joined by Ikue Mori (laptop) Sylvie Courvoisier (piano) and “many special guests”. There’s a cover charge of $20 (2 sessions: 8,10pm).

Saturday, Sept. 13: come see Reid Farrington’s Passion Project at PS122 (9pm). This critically acclaimed installation has already shown at 3LD this summer, and promises to be an exciting combination of video and live performance.

That’s all for now. As a reminder, the World Music Institute has some great music events coming up. I am looking forward to seeing the Whirling Dervishes of Damascus with Sheikh Hamza Shakkur & Ensemble Al-Kindi, coming up on September 21. All of their events take place at the Skirball Center for Performing Arts. (If you are a NYU student, tickets are only $12.)

Also, Bill T. Jones will be at BAM with A Quarreling Pair (follow the link to see a extracts from the performance), Sept. 30 and Oct. 2-4. Bill T. Jones is one of the sexiest and most exciting American contemporary dance choreographers. He has put together a diverse company, with dancers from all over the world, and his work can be both moving and exhilarating. I highly recommend going to see his work, especially if you have not been exposed to contemporary dance before.