Dance Lovers, You Can Come Along
It is no wonder that Nederlans Dans Theater is the best contemporary dance company in the country. Their performances are always a spectacle of dance skills that can’t possibly disappoint a fan of the genre. Unsurprisingly, their new production, Traces Left Within, is pure, clean and technically impeccable. However, I need to warn you: this time, they sin on their thematic choice. The three performances in the program illustrate three completely different concepts in three extremely different styles, creating a choppy and disconnected thread throughout the evening – and we are left to wonder what they are doing there together. Although a dancing heart may overlook this scattered program, someone already hesitant towards understanding the abstraction of contemporary dance is only further alienated from this world.
The world of contemporary dance can be intimidating, and the class politics around it doesn’t make it more welcoming to the general public. While being an admirer of NDT’s work and Marco Goecke’s choreography, I had high expectations for this evening, but my excitement diminished the moment I entered the new house of the company: the Amare theatre. Quickly, I was reminded that I was in The Hague going to a well-reputed company, and that I surely didn’t fit among the wealthy well-dressed people that surrounded me. I started questioning this whole trip. I was about to see a high-quality performance, something that would make my dancing heart pound. And I thought of the process that the artists went through to create such a piece. I thought of the frustration it must be to produce all of this artistic work to be seen by people who are not there necessarily for the arts, but to see and be seen, to network among their social class and show themselves as cultivated patrons of the arts – I never felt so out of place.
The world of contemporary dance can be intimidating, and the class politics around it doesn’t make it more welcoming to the general public. While being an admirer of NDT’s work and Marco Goecke’s choreography, I had high expectations for this evening, but my excitement diminished the moment I entered the new house of the company: the Amare theatre. Quickly, I was reminded that I was in The Hague going to a well-reputed company, and that I surely didn’t fit among the wealthy well-dressed people that surrounded me. I started questioning this whole trip. I was about to see a high-quality performance, something that would make my dancing heart pound. And I thought of the process that the artists went through to create such a piece. I thought of the frustration it must be to produce all of this artistic work to be seen by people who are not there necessarily for the arts, but to see and be seen, to network among their social class and show themselves as cultivated patrons of the arts – I never felt so out of place.
But enough about class. Let’s talk dance.
The first piece of the night was “Toss of a Dice”. Playing with probability and unpredictability represented by the dice, this piece was the purest form you can find of contemporary dance. There are no other words to describe it. It was pure in its classic-based movements and in its repetitive motifs that structured the performance as a whole.
Warning: you might end up crazy at the end from incessantly listening to the sound of a water drop. Other motifs, such as the performers’ shaking limbs or even the attitudes (not their attitude, but the dance step) that were almost omnipresent in the choreography, gave a sense of predictability. But it was not comforting to know what would happen; it was anxiety-inducing. Towards the end, the sense of predictability was replaced by tension. The music changed. The movements changed. I expected the tension to build up, at least for a little bit, but it must have taken two short minutes of setting a stressful environment – or attempting to do so – for the curtains to fall. Why start to build tension if you are not going to go full out? Where was the climax? I honestly felt abandoned as a spectator. And indeed, when I asked my partner (who is not that acquainted with the performative arts) what he had thought of the whole thing, his answer was “I don’t know, I feel I have seen this before, and it meant nothing to me”.
Strikingly different was the second performance of the night: “How to Cope With a Sunset When the Horizon Has Been Dismantled”. Colourful and playful, the tense bodies from before could finally breathe, and we felt like joining them. A sober rainbow on stage, both thanks to the lighting and costume, set the perfect tone for the dance. The scenery was composed of weird white concrete shapes that seemed very light. The dancers used the floor and the shapes to explore their own bodies and movements, each in their own individual time. Isn’t it funny that the synchronized sameness of the movements from the first performance distanced them as a group, but the unique and individual exploration of the second one united them more than ever? They were finally dancing together. Beautiful and light, they followed the same directionality, and the fluidity that transposed of the dancers’ bodies took us into a floating trip with them. The dancers and the shapes. Playing with balance. Having fun…
…Having fun…
Fun is also a good way to characterize the third and last performance of the night: “I Love You, Ghosts”. This performance – definitely the most approachable one – raised the question of the ghost of the past, combining a relatable theme with clear symbols and good humor. The fast-paced, sharp steps and rich arm work conveyed tension, a rush to find the ghost and run away from it at the same time: it felt like all of us, hunted by our past. Unpleasant to admit, but real nonetheless. Little moments of comic relief made the auditorium find tranquility in laughter. You can imagine that: a dancer moving so fast you think it’s a video set on speed mode, anxiously whispering barely audible lines. She arrives at the front of the stage, stares at the audience silently for a second. “Buh”. And she leaves the stage. Combine to that was the soundtrack which gave us not only an atmosphere in which to enter, but a theme, a meaning – and maybe even a hint of a storyline. If the first music you choose for your choreography repeatedly says “Try to remember”, it gives already a pretty good hint of the theme. However clear, relatable and funny this piece may have been, put into context with the others, “I love you ghost” remained a disconnected piece in the puzzle.
So, what do we make of it? Yes, the performances were well executed. Yes, some of them were more approachable than others. But now I ask you: unpredictability, playful discovery of the body, ghosts… How do you compose a program with that? These disconnected themes didn’t help to make the soirée approachable for audiences who are not that acquainted with contemporary dance. It only confused the poor things. Let’s just make clear that I am not saying all performances should give an obvious narrative. I am well aware that it is not the point. If we were to create a whole evening with a thread that would guide the spectator’s eyes into making connections… Wouldn’t that make life simpler? It would open the doors for the new audiences that theatres around the country wish to attract. It would welcome those like my partner, and others who are willing to explore this world of dance and are ready to be moved by it
I am already moved by NDT’s work. Traces Left Within created the ambience for an escapist night for me; a niche, dancing, pleasurable distraction. My disappointment with the first performance and feeling like ‘a fish out of water’ were not enough to set me off of the beautiful performance by the dancers. I had something to look at and be impressed with. Yet, I couldn’t help but think of the untrained eyes and how lost their gaze must have been. I couldn’t help but think that the program could have, at least, been coherent. All I am saying is that a little more thought could have gone into putting this evening together.
Or is this too much to ask?
Designed by Giulia Cristofoli
