Marking Time premieres bring ghosts of the past into the experimental present

Photo by écoute chérie

A mixed programme of contrasting choreographic premieres can be hit and miss but not when the standard is pointedly high.

Set to the thread of composer Nico Muhly’s modern-classical music, as realised by The Britten Sinfonia, Marking Time presents a view of contemporary dance now, with its legacy moves and bids for a new language. It is also gratifying to see an eclectic group of choreographers of differing ages, from distinct territories.

Slant

‘Slant’ – the first offering from Jules Cunningham, takes us into an immersive design-scape of angular pools of light and abstract flags, reminiscent of the Japanese Hino Maru, and presumably playing with notions of identity.

Dancers seemingly explore angular pathways of their own in this setting, often evading direct connection or alignment with each other. The tilts, balances and jumps with which they do so, aren’t dissimilar from the movement language of another unrelated Cunningham!

An ensemble of six continue to explore individuality through almost capturing each other in memorable crouching positions and disconnected holds that are curious, engaging and prompt sympathy. The insertion of ambiguous elements, such as a dog-like creature pulled along on wheels, dresses the environment to evoke the daily experiences and the exertions of people like us.

Cunningham’s intention to convey the figures’ exploration of queerness offers depth to the experience but wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the casual audience member. In total, it is a piece of exacting and beautiful execution that evokes some of the innovations of 1960s-70s dance in a contemporary context.

 

Veins of Water

Maud Le Pladec’s new piece both takes us further back in time and thrusts us forward. There is great appeal in the triptych of playful water beings she presents – quivering hands cover faces…fluid limbs erupt into commedia de l’arte like postures. These moments of delight, presented by the ultra-modern nymphs in shimmering stripes and transparent tights, could be compared to cabaret of the belle-epoch or Busby Berkeley’s art-deco swimmers…

Given Le Pladec’s European practice, the gentle humour, sensuousness and abstractness of the water ‘souls’ makes complete sense, as does the sense of provenance and completeness to the piece.

However, the vocabulary she is working with isn’t limited to fluidity and at times the three take on almost yogic warrior positions with sinuous strength. This teams with the repeated shadow motion of hands quivering in front of  faces to conjure ideas of defensiveness and feminine protection. Memories of legends surrounding sirens and mermaids are thus engaged.

Throughout, Muhly’s contemporary fugues offer a cyclical and buoyant atmosphere that holds the piece…like water.

Veins of Water is unlike any piece I have seen, boldly diving into its new language with wit, fluency and a nod to the past.

 

The Only Tune

Michael Keegan-Dolan’s evocation of folklore to Muhly’s piece for American folksinger Sam Amidon is nothing short of physical theatre…but with clever genre-popping strokes.

Sam himself is placed centre-stage on a chair, beneath a noose  – as he sings of proverbial wind and rain and the plight of one murdering sister and her sister-victim. We are immediately introduced to a folk-world.

Building on this image, is a growing troop of skeletons in luminous funny-bones costumes striking scare poses on their own chair-plinths!

What proceeds is not so much the telling of a specific story by this collection of bones, but rather the gradual cumulation of an aesthetic and what we writers call ‘story-world.’ Music is an equal partner in this, increasing in texture and impact as the full cast of eight skeletons form, not only expressive formations that swoop, extend and lunge in perfect synchronisation, but a faux band, provokingly plucking at strings.

Sam is respectfully conveyed around the stage by these jocular spooks, as their chief storyteller. His song, and the simple provocations that nod to ‘poor theatre’, elevate the choreography onto a different plane of reality. It is different in comparison to the other offerings, although equal in quality and technique. Making this storyworld make sense on Sadler’s Wells’ stage as opposed to one dedicated to live art or contemporary theatre is a feat to be applauded.

 

From Cunningham slants and ‘tilts’ to a new vision of the belle epoch and the joyous side of poor theatre, these premieres form a scintillating conversation that brings ghosts of the past into dance experiments of the present.

 

 

TF