Edge 4: Narrative Gymnastics

This is only my second dance review for Plank. With the first one, I neatly got out of any detailed analysis by talking about Areosia’s Cumulus in broad terms. I couldn’t actually see Cumulus so couldn’t comment on its shortcomings or strengths as a dance piece.

Edge 4 provides a different challenge. A program of three works all unapologetically within the contemporary dance tradition. No tricky technology, no circus performers, no hoops of fire, simply young dancers dancing on the uncluttered, open space of the Firehall stage.

So, what to do? I’m a playwright. All my foibles are contained in that simple statement. I love words and I love narrative. While I don’t need words to enjoy a performance, I do find having a well articulated narrative is helpful in accessing whatever the work is meant to be “about.” I should refine that. By narrative I mean a structure that evokes a journey, a progression of expressions that build towards a coherent conclusion. I want to know I’m going somewhere and not just watching people hop around for twenty minutes.

None of the work in Edge 4 could be dismissed as “young people hopping.” Each piece was engaging and featured dancing that was energetic and physically impressive. The program amounted to a showcase of emerging talent from our city, and as someone who sits on the far periphery of the dance community, it was exhilarating to see the calibre of work being created here. As for the execution of narrative, well, for these word-obsessed eyes, it was more of a mixed bag.

For me, the strongest piece narratively was an excerpt taken from Around the Block, by MovEnt. Choreographed by Day Helesic and featuring herself and Chengxin Wei, it told the story of a young couple struggling to, as the program described it, turn “the next corner of their relationship.” No, neither the title nor the premise sound particularly promising but Helesic handles the material well and deals with a surprisingly delicate transition in the couple’s relationship deftly. Helesic’s solo, which opens the piece, concludes with a simple gesture where she touches her chest. It’s a gesture that struck me as both familiar and true – a sense of loneliness that reaches to the core. Sentimental? Perhaps, but I make no apologies. I think ironic distance masks a fear of emotional honesty but that’s an essay for another day.

It’s at this moment of expressed loneliness that Wei enters her life. But what follows is more sophisticated than the usual story of a wallflower charmed and disappointed by a charismatic male. A repeated image sums up the piece beautifully: the two dancers, sitting side by side, Helesic with her arms across her knees, Wei his head turned slightly way. The isolation combined with intimate proximity struck me as perfectly judged. Others might have seen the journey to these moments as unfocussed but to me Helesic is exploring a subtle shift in a relationship – where the physical potential is still alive but the prospect for the future has somehow become numbing. This is quite a difficult shift to illustrate and a particular challenge if members of the audience (specifically those with the initials ALF) are strangely heartless.

Status Quo is the story of a very different young woman, one caught up in male street culture. Choreographed by Amber Funk Barton and Shay Kuebler, the narrative in this piece is not as clearly delineated. It’s really a series of sequences linked by the raw energy of the performers which, in addition to Barton and Kuebler, includes Josh Martin and David Raymond. It’s an exhilarating recreation of an urban atmosphere that, to me at least, felt authentic. Together, the three male performers provided an energetic blast – a powerful display of male prowess that riffed on hip-hop moves.

As my Plank colleague said after the show, if you want to get young men interested in dance, get them to watch Status Quo. So he got that part right at least.

The energy and manic danger on display was in complete opposition to the piece that opened Dancing on the Edge, Kokoro’s Ghosts. To me, Ghosts seemed like a very middle-class exploration of the downtown eastside focusing as it did on nightmare scenarios and tormented souls. Yet far from being just tormented souls, these are real people experiencing lives far more complicated (and interesting) than never-ending damnation. One only has to spend some time on the streets to recognize the bravado and energy of many of the residents of that neighbourhood. With Status Quo, it’s as if someone had opened the fire-escape doors at the Firehall — and these three guys shambled in and began strutting their stuff.

Barton is the sinew that forms itself around the male muscularity of the piece, alternating between being one of the boys one moment to an object of their desire the next. She negotiates the quick changes in status with aplomb and with a rhythm that again feels authentic. I was surprised by the audience’s reaction to one sequence. At one point, Barton takes on one of the male performers, who stands perfectly still while she delivers a series of blows to his body. The audience laughed at this sequence, which surprised me. I saw a darker element at work: a powerful evocation of the physical imbalance between men and women (well, in most cases that is). The sequence seems to be toying with Buffy-like notions of female empowerment only to have them undermined by the physical, rock-like stillness of the male performer.

Although too long, Status Quo grabbed the audience right from the start with its kinetic energy. The same could be said of Lunar Rouge, which opened the evening. This Tomorrow Collective piece, choreographed by Chick Snipper, was not only physically charged but absolutely gorgeous to look at. The lighting by Itai Erdal and the strange slightly alien, slightly Roman costumes (think of the original Star Trek series) by Lindsay Keegan were both fantastic and complement the other-worldly quality of Jesse Zubot music (in fact, the music throughout the evening was great).

If I find myself struggling with dance (or poetry for that matter) I go to the title: Lunar Rouge – Red Lunar, maybe Red Moon. So maybe we’re in some cosmic setting, I did get a strong sense of science fiction but I suspect this was unintended. The piece is built around Katy Harris-McLeod who repeats a gesture that looks as if she’s stirring a pot and which seems crucially important – but I’m never sure exactly what it symbolizes. The other two performers, Jennifer McLeish-Lewis and Mara Branscombe, also have solos which are followed by sequences where the three gather in an almost tribal fashion. The physical work is tremendous and athletically dazzling. Their movements are crisp and sharp but I just don’t know what it’s all in aid of. I didn’t know where they were located or what the stakes were in terms of their inter-relationships. In the end, I found myself watching the bodies rather than following any exploration of theme. I found myself admiring the considerable talents of the performers, revelling in the sheer joy of physical movement and what bodies can achieve. For a short work this is perfectly acceptable, but a piece that is simply beautiful movement and physical prowess comes awfully close to gymnastics to these uneducated eyes.