The Green Zone: Blurring the dance/theatre divide

There's something a little audacious about entering the Fringe with a dance piece. Dance tends to hang out over in its own corner of the art world, while theatre does its thing over in its own camp, and rarely the twain shall meet.

But The Green Zone turned out to be a great way to kick off my festival this year. It's an hour of modern dance, a form which smudges over into performance art, which in turn is the most abstract form of theatre. So, fitting in by virtue of its direct kinship to the rest of the fest, it must be judged by the same criteria, namely: how well does it tell its story?

Or stories, in this case. The Green Zone is comprised of two unconnected pieces; Switchback, choreographed and performed by Winnipeg's Jolene Bailie; and The Green Zone, choreographed by Deborah Dunn and performed by Ms. Bailie; with a video piece called Jo's Toes dropped in the middle to, presumably, provide some time for a costume change. Fair enough, but as far as story goes there wasn't much in this particular film - an overly long projection of Bailie's dangling feet and a tinkly piano which suggested soft-core porn for foot fetishists. The live portions of the show on either side of it were, however, much more absorbing.

A strikingly strong dancer, both physically and technically, Ms. Bailie had no problem owning the rather large stage of the Waterfront, but the fairly languid pace of Switchback left me wanting to see what she could do if she really cut loose. The sub-aquatic science fiction tone of the piece was established off the top by a disembodied, future-sexy voice entreating us to turn off cell phones, cameras, etc., over a swirling, glittery score. This tone was buoyed by the first costume, a marvellous gladiator-meets-sea monkey look that put me in mind of the American sci-fi films of the '50s, and served to emphasize the dancer's long, expressive limbs. 

The first section of the piece is set to a thumping, feral rhythm, and the dance is frenetic, reptilian and a little dangerous. Then things slow down. A lot. The piece ends with the energy that it starts with, but the middle sections have an underwater slog to them that, while precise, are comprised mostly of stoic repetition. The piece resides more in the performance art side of things than dance, and if that's your cup of tea there is much to enjoy. The lighting is simple and interesting, the starkness enhancing the feeling of watching some just-discovered deep-sea being through the glass of a huge aquarium. The choreography is matched well with the score, which together manage to settle a certain hypnotic effect on you, then suddenly slap you right back out of it with a mechanical counterpoint that jars the experience from a mercuric fluidity to a clockwork staccato. 

The precision and pace carry over into The Green Zone, but thematically things get decidedly more heavy. An ambitious commentary on the cost of war, the concept could easily have come off as wanky in the hands of a less talented team. A delightfully nostalgic '40s bring-'em-back-safe atmosphere is established with a smoky jazz piano and vintage woman's air corps uniform, which shouldn't have worked for a dance costume but did. The charm that this establishes dissolves into grim contemporary reality when we realize the portion of the dance we just watched is choreographed to a monologue about the war in Iraq, lifted from The Washington Post and delivered by Bailie. The simple device of a long, trailing piece of string is a deft choice. It becomes by turns a barbed wire fence, a crime scene chalk outline, clownish tears and, ultimately, our life line. Overall, a well put-together discussion on the price of freedom, delivered with a clarity that gives it every right to offer itself up within the conventions of a theatre festival. 

The Green Zone.  Presented by: Gearshifting (www.gearshifting.org).  Performed by: Jolene Bailie.  With choreography by: Jolene Bailie and Deborah Dunn. Video portion by: Hugh Conacher

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