(Nazareth College Arts Center, 5 December 2009)
In a good dance number, music is in the mind of the viewer, certainly not conspicuously on the mind of the dancer. Music is what a dancer's mood evokes, not what shocks the dancer into his next move. It is this subordination of music to characters that makes a jazz band engaging to watch, and it is the failure to subordinate that makes watching a symphony orchestra dull unless one's gaze is rested on the conductor.
Garth Fagan's dancers stretch, interpret music, or communicate with an entity that delights in broken lines and abrupt movements, but they communicate reluctantly with each other. When they do communicate with each other, they are at their best, as in "Translation Transition." There, music is simple and repetitive enough not to dominate the understated choreography; the characters emerge.
Mr Fagan's sense of timing and visual composition is precise, even cinematic. It should be employed to tell the dancers' story, not the composer's.
5 December 2009
26 November 2009
Parfumerie
(Young Centre for the Performing Arts, 26 November 2009)
Perceptiveness thrives in contentment. Misery blinds; so does bliss, but it is less common. Life's multiple dimensions cannot be recovered from a one-dimensional emotion experienced at any time, typically dominated by a life's single dimension. Changes of environment are required to induce variation in life's circumstances, and then some detective work is required to identify each circumstance's effect on one's well-being.
The only thing George (Oliver Dennis) dislikes more than his job is being jobless. At work, miserable, he is the man he manages to be; in his letters, he is the man he wants to be. In the letters, he is also the man he actually is, content because spared from the irritable boss's reproaches and an inept co-worker's (Rosie's, played by Patricia Fagan) inadvertent sabotage of sales.
The play is a fairy tale tinted with compromise. (Later, Hollywood found it profitable to discard compromise not to sabotage sales.) Rarely a play that does not miscast its leading lady is a failure. Neither is this one. Patricia Fagan is handsome and able, but not implausibly so for a Hungarian salesgirl she portrays. The ease with which Oliver Dennis's plain character wins over the girl is a testament to the story's compromise, but also to wisdom in simplicity, practised out of necessity---by characters as well as the company. Joseph Ziegler (Mr Hammerschmidt) and Michael Simpson (Louis Sipos) are responsible for recreating the spirit of Hungary, as Shakespeare intended to recreate Denmark---as a work of art, not as a National Geographic feature.
Perceptiveness thrives in contentment. Misery blinds; so does bliss, but it is less common. Life's multiple dimensions cannot be recovered from a one-dimensional emotion experienced at any time, typically dominated by a life's single dimension. Changes of environment are required to induce variation in life's circumstances, and then some detective work is required to identify each circumstance's effect on one's well-being.
The only thing George (Oliver Dennis) dislikes more than his job is being jobless. At work, miserable, he is the man he manages to be; in his letters, he is the man he wants to be. In the letters, he is also the man he actually is, content because spared from the irritable boss's reproaches and an inept co-worker's (Rosie's, played by Patricia Fagan) inadvertent sabotage of sales.
The play is a fairy tale tinted with compromise. (Later, Hollywood found it profitable to discard compromise not to sabotage sales.) Rarely a play that does not miscast its leading lady is a failure. Neither is this one. Patricia Fagan is handsome and able, but not implausibly so for a Hungarian salesgirl she portrays. The ease with which Oliver Dennis's plain character wins over the girl is a testament to the story's compromise, but also to wisdom in simplicity, practised out of necessity---by characters as well as the company. Joseph Ziegler (Mr Hammerschmidt) and Michael Simpson (Louis Sipos) are responsible for recreating the spirit of Hungary, as Shakespeare intended to recreate Denmark---as a work of art, not as a National Geographic feature.
19 November 2009
Radio City Christmas Spectacular
(HSBC Arena, 19 November 2009)
The show achieves what one would have thought impossible if it only had not appeared so natural. The show's every act caters a Christmas dream for everyone. All enjoy the same dish, each savours his favourite ingredient and believes it to be the main one. Whether one wants to believe in miracles, the Nativity story, or the perfection of female form---one finds enough fabrication to reaffirm that belief. The show has mastered what each believer hopes for---the perfectibility of man (and chorus girl, and mouse, and elf).
The show resembles the early Hollywood cinema. The synchronised dancing routines expose a character whose features would be undetectable in individual dancers. Scenes change swiftly, progress quickly---just to register in memory, often not to be consumed on premises.
The "12 Days of Christmas" is the product of the American formula that transforms pop culture into art, and makes art popular; it pleases the living, sparing no expense, at the risk of temporarily upsetting the dead. The Rockettes' tap-dancing rendition of the "Swan Lake" turns the ballet into a timeless jazz standard.
The "Parade of Wooden Soldiers," an original act from 1933, is a pinnacle of grace. High-waisted wide-legged white trousers amplify the character of each dancer, with seemingly so little room for distinction. The steps are minimal and technically as uniform as the dancers' costumes. Yet, with the moves synchronised, the slightest syncopation or inflection asserts a personality. To keep the tall hats vertical, all moves emanate from hips, thus perfecting each step.
The show achieves what one would have thought impossible if it only had not appeared so natural. The show's every act caters a Christmas dream for everyone. All enjoy the same dish, each savours his favourite ingredient and believes it to be the main one. Whether one wants to believe in miracles, the Nativity story, or the perfection of female form---one finds enough fabrication to reaffirm that belief. The show has mastered what each believer hopes for---the perfectibility of man (and chorus girl, and mouse, and elf).
The show resembles the early Hollywood cinema. The synchronised dancing routines expose a character whose features would be undetectable in individual dancers. Scenes change swiftly, progress quickly---just to register in memory, often not to be consumed on premises.
The "12 Days of Christmas" is the product of the American formula that transforms pop culture into art, and makes art popular; it pleases the living, sparing no expense, at the risk of temporarily upsetting the dead. The Rockettes' tap-dancing rendition of the "Swan Lake" turns the ballet into a timeless jazz standard.
The "Parade of Wooden Soldiers," an original act from 1933, is a pinnacle of grace. High-waisted wide-legged white trousers amplify the character of each dancer, with seemingly so little room for distinction. The steps are minimal and technically as uniform as the dancers' costumes. Yet, with the moves synchronised, the slightest syncopation or inflection asserts a personality. To keep the tall hats vertical, all moves emanate from hips, thus perfecting each step.
13 November 2009
Whatever Works (2009)
Are not the people in the provinces---not evil, just scared, as Evan Rachel Wood's character puts it---underemployed? True, it may be cheaper to sustain them where they are, feed them religion, football, and television---not ballet, theatre, and fine art---and hope that they serendipitously will produce an idea or an intellect that will benefit the civilized world. Yet, many in the provinces would be freer and happier (and would make others happier too) if they were initiated into civilization at an early age, instead of fighting for it or stumbling upon it. The initiation is not as improbable as it may appear. Individuals strive to have a passion, which they would not abandon for a good judgement, but would substitute for another passion, which can be designed to be a reasonable one.
In contrast to most of her publicity stills, in the movie, Evan Rachel Wood is pretty---the price she pays for appealing to an intelligent man, played by Larry David. The affliction vanishes when she settles with Henry Cavill's character, a man of her own generation. With the affliction, affection will vanish too. Hence Larry David's admonition that the film is not a feel-good one.
Larry David character's vision, even if true, is too grim to share with most others. He cannot help not sharing it, however, even if doing so is unprofitable. His intermittent suicide attempts are the only instances when he tries to be selective in choosing the audience for his existential insights. The suicide attempts also reveal his doubt in the accuracy of his vision, the burden of which is often unbearable. His latest attempt at a targeted insight, a jump out of a window, lands him a girlfriend.
In the movie, the characters who learn most are those who find themselves transplanted into an unfamiliar environment. Larry David's character is the one who learns least, perhaps, because he knows most, but also because he has spent his life witnessing others come to seek and often not find happiness where he is, instead of going elsewhere, where he could follow them and would be excused for taking along his idealistic dreams.
In contrast to most of her publicity stills, in the movie, Evan Rachel Wood is pretty---the price she pays for appealing to an intelligent man, played by Larry David. The affliction vanishes when she settles with Henry Cavill's character, a man of her own generation. With the affliction, affection will vanish too. Hence Larry David's admonition that the film is not a feel-good one.
Larry David character's vision, even if true, is too grim to share with most others. He cannot help not sharing it, however, even if doing so is unprofitable. His intermittent suicide attempts are the only instances when he tries to be selective in choosing the audience for his existential insights. The suicide attempts also reveal his doubt in the accuracy of his vision, the burden of which is often unbearable. His latest attempt at a targeted insight, a jump out of a window, lands him a girlfriend.
In the movie, the characters who learn most are those who find themselves transplanted into an unfamiliar environment. Larry David's character is the one who learns least, perhaps, because he knows most, but also because he has spent his life witnessing others come to seek and often not find happiness where he is, instead of going elsewhere, where he could follow them and would be excused for taking along his idealistic dreams.
18 October 2009
ProArteDanza
(Harbourfront Centre, 17 October 2009)
In large part, perceived physical beauty is the mastery of one's own body. The mastery translates into fluency in expressing emotions. What is sometimes viewed as an incorrigible physical flaw is often corrigible disengagement. For instance, an irregularly-shaped nose stands out only if it does not act in accord with other bodily members in conveying its bearer's individuality. Perceived intellectual beauty resembles physical beauty. The greatest mistake of disengagement is shyness, the wish to be absent---physically or intellectually. Presence is beauty. ProArteDanza's performance has presence.
Rena Narumi appears to be oddly proportioned until she moves. Then, she is impeccable, as her each muscle tells; she is supple, quick, precise, expressive. Anisa Tejpar treats the challenge of taming the momentum of her big body with nonchalance and earnestness. Like other female dancers in the performance, she is imperfectly built. The imperfection, if moderate, however, is an advantage for a dancer. Then, the movement speaks, not the silhouette. Johanna Bergfelt's body recites even when she (or the director---or at least the audience) wishes it to whisper. Still, each of the three dancers owns and controls her body. No muscle acts of its own accord; no movement is redundant.
Choreography, music, and dancing are excellent. In their intensity, the dances resemble martial arts and west coast swing. Instead of being trapped in bodies possessed by the choreographer's spirit, the dancers retain initiative; they act. Whenever a dancer is on stage, she plays a part, never just waits for her turn.
"Unfinished 32" captures the indispensability of communication, which in its purest form consists of generating a momentum, passing in onto others, and trusting that others will return it or pass it on. Dance, like communication, is a goal, not a means. No point is belaboured; intensity is never suggested by repetition.
"Hidden Places" celebrates the acceptance of change and transience (as opposed to change and accumulation). "Maria Celeste" is a piece about the era when good intentions imputed to a god were an excuse for his cruel acts. Dancing in "Beethoven's 9th---1st Movement" does to classical music what animation did to it in Disney's "Fantasia;" the dancing awakens one but does not halt the dream.
In large part, perceived physical beauty is the mastery of one's own body. The mastery translates into fluency in expressing emotions. What is sometimes viewed as an incorrigible physical flaw is often corrigible disengagement. For instance, an irregularly-shaped nose stands out only if it does not act in accord with other bodily members in conveying its bearer's individuality. Perceived intellectual beauty resembles physical beauty. The greatest mistake of disengagement is shyness, the wish to be absent---physically or intellectually. Presence is beauty. ProArteDanza's performance has presence.
Rena Narumi appears to be oddly proportioned until she moves. Then, she is impeccable, as her each muscle tells; she is supple, quick, precise, expressive. Anisa Tejpar treats the challenge of taming the momentum of her big body with nonchalance and earnestness. Like other female dancers in the performance, she is imperfectly built. The imperfection, if moderate, however, is an advantage for a dancer. Then, the movement speaks, not the silhouette. Johanna Bergfelt's body recites even when she (or the director---or at least the audience) wishes it to whisper. Still, each of the three dancers owns and controls her body. No muscle acts of its own accord; no movement is redundant.
Choreography, music, and dancing are excellent. In their intensity, the dances resemble martial arts and west coast swing. Instead of being trapped in bodies possessed by the choreographer's spirit, the dancers retain initiative; they act. Whenever a dancer is on stage, she plays a part, never just waits for her turn.
"Unfinished 32" captures the indispensability of communication, which in its purest form consists of generating a momentum, passing in onto others, and trusting that others will return it or pass it on. Dance, like communication, is a goal, not a means. No point is belaboured; intensity is never suggested by repetition.
"Hidden Places" celebrates the acceptance of change and transience (as opposed to change and accumulation). "Maria Celeste" is a piece about the era when good intentions imputed to a god were an excuse for his cruel acts. Dancing in "Beethoven's 9th---1st Movement" does to classical music what animation did to it in Disney's "Fantasia;" the dancing awakens one but does not halt the dream.
9 October 2009
The Way We Were (1973)
He believes that economic freedom will protect the freedom of speech of the talented and the eloquent. She wants the freedom of speech for all and believes it must be fought for. For him, flippancy is a team sport. For her, flippancy is arrogance and shallowness. He compromises for love. She campaigns for love. Both respect each other, which enables them to learn from each other.
25 September 2009
Cirque du Soleil: Alegria
(Blue Cross Arena, 25 September 2009)
At a Starbucks, it is hard enough to place an order just when the barista is listening and to recall one's name and the drink's name and ingredients in the right order. In comparison, on an aerial high bar, group performance is near to impossible, requires uncommon intelligence and skill. The skill looks like a product of desperation, not aspiration to beauty---perfection in the mundane. The impression is reinforced by the scenes in which athletes are forced to perform by their ugly masters, unnecessarily introduced to set off the athletes' perfect bodies.
Alegria lacks the class of Moulin Rouge, another celebration of physique. Alegria's goal, however, is not to honour class. Class embodies civilization and hence requires an object for imitation, whose availability is a matter of chance. Instead, Alegria honours hard work, which is universally available.
At a Starbucks, it is hard enough to place an order just when the barista is listening and to recall one's name and the drink's name and ingredients in the right order. In comparison, on an aerial high bar, group performance is near to impossible, requires uncommon intelligence and skill. The skill looks like a product of desperation, not aspiration to beauty---perfection in the mundane. The impression is reinforced by the scenes in which athletes are forced to perform by their ugly masters, unnecessarily introduced to set off the athletes' perfect bodies.
Alegria lacks the class of Moulin Rouge, another celebration of physique. Alegria's goal, however, is not to honour class. Class embodies civilization and hence requires an object for imitation, whose availability is a matter of chance. Instead, Alegria honours hard work, which is universally available.
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