Le Sacrilege du Printemps

If you want to see the most rank, the oldest and ugliest stereotypes of Africans, all you must do, evidently, is go to the Joyce Theater.

Heddy Maalem's restaging of Le Sacred du Printemps, choreographed specifically for a group of African dancers, was a bad idea from the beginning.  (If you don't know why Maalem, a (white-skinned) Algerian-Frenchman, is almost always referred to as Algerian, while his (all very dark) Nigerian, Senegalese, Togolese, and other dancers are always referred to as Africans,  you don't know as much about stereotypes as JJS thought!)  JJS almost didn't go to the performance.  But curiosity is a powerful draw.

When Stravinsky's harsh score was first performed in 1913 to Vaslav Nijinsky's risqué (often called – then and now – "primitive") choreography, there was a riot in the theater.  What happened to the good old days when audiences let artists know how they felt?

The piece is a disaster.  While the choreography seems to be trying to tell a story, the narrative is too disjointed to be coherent.  The dancers often are out of sync with each other.  The light and video components are simply distracting rather than adding to the feel or narrative of the dance.  And the costumes – colored underwear and bras – manage to reveal the dancers' bodies without flattering them.

Unfortunately, JJS does not believe in walking out of pieces early.  You know, curiosity is a dangerous thing.

 

û  û  û

Now, JJS rarely reads other reviews before posting on this blog.  But that rule was broken for this posting, just to make sure JJS didn't miss a flash of brilliance when checking the time left in the piece or looking around to see if the rest of the audience as a whole was similarly horrified.  (For the record, the audience – as a whole – didn't seem to be.)  The reviewers, though, largely concur with what is written above.  See for yourself:  the New York Times review at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/12/arts/dance/12spri.html and the Village Voice review at http://www.villagevoice.com/2008-06-10/dance/two-groups-tell-stravinsky-what-s-up-these-days/.  But these reviews also shocked JJS because none of them mention race.

A "primitive" dance originally created for and by Europeans is reset specifically for black African dancers – and no one mentions race.  The choreography consists mostly of the dancers either attacking each other or simulating orgies – and no one mentions race?  The choreographer goes so far as to have this dark ensemble repeatedly bare their teeth at the audience while some crawl across the stage – and no one mentions race!

Given the history and prominence of the original piece, given the choreographer's claim that his work is inspired by modern Lagos, and given his admitted fascination with dark-skinned African dancers, the color of the dancers seems, in this instance, to be at least as important as the lighting or the costumes.  If the choreographer can admit that he sees race – and that it is in fact an integral part of his performance – then reviewers should be able to see and discuss it as well.

         JJS is curious as to why race does not appear once in the major reviews of Capmagnie Heddy Maalem's performance.  JJS is curious as to why the Joyce didn't choose to present an African company or choreographer that sees something other than race in black African dancers (such as Germaine Acogny, Faustin Linyekula, or Nora Chipaumire).  And JJS wonders why, if Joyce programmers could not see that this Le Sacred du Printemps is offensive, that they could not at least see that it is just bad dance?

Curiosity, dear reader, is a dangerous thing…

The Real Chimurenga

Before Nora Chipaumire's "Chimurenga" begins, the audience observes a set of earth, calabashes hanging from rope, a small pile of stones in the center front of the stage, to the right red and black cloth, and a pile of larger stones in the back.  As the solo dance progresses, the set is transformed.  The calabashes were actually hung from wires and were fitted with audio speakers.  With the lights down, they seemed to be large eyeballs watching both performer and audience.  The cloths were additional costumes; the stones were for playing with and throwing.  Chipaumire's set, like the dance as a whole, vacillates; it draws you in with a seductive aesthetic, only to jolt you with dangerous aggression.

Chimurenga was described as meaning revolution or resistance; the literal translation from Southern African language Shona is "struggle."  The dance references the current chimurenga relating to the country's recent elections and Robert Mugabe's almost 30-year rule.  (For those who don't know, the country had two other major chimurengas – the first against British colonial rule, and the second, which led to Rhodesia becoming independent Zimbabwe, against white minority rule.) 

Recurring images of  the childhood joy of playing jacks and the fierce – and stereotypically male – aggression of protesting stone throwers are dominant in the first section of the dance.  (The piece was originally conceived of as three separate dances).  The second section focuses on fun, hip-swinging social-style dancing, alternating with the aggressive movements.  At the end of this section, after reciting a combination of epithets "blackie…monkey…kaffir" and colonial companies' mottos "De Beers…this is for our boys in the bush," Chipaumire half-disrobes and, bare-chested, swaggers across the stage slowly.  It is a challenging moment to watch – the movements are stereotypically those of young black men, whatever their country.  And yet her breasts insist that she is a woman, and the sequence brings to mind the supposed masculinization of black women, whatever their country, whether because of men's absence, or because of war or other male disappearances.

The dance's third section is full of Christian gestures.  For most of this piece her gaze is down or eyes closed in an attitude of prayer.  But even in this mood, chimurenga creeps in – "catching the spirit" shaking becomes angry shaking, which becomes fist-raised resistance.

A video piece of Chipaumire running and posing in graffiti-covered areas was unnecessary except to explicitly mark African urbanity or to link the chimurenga of Zimbabwe to that of, say, Brooklyn.  But the universality of emotion she portrays with her body and movement make the video redundant.  And while the lighting was accomplished and the costumes worked well once on, the dancer clearly had to work to get them on, briefly breaking the performance's spell. 

The dance ends with a recital of childhood joys – "ice cream…boys" – and some traumas – "'hot areas' had nothing to do with the weather."  Finally, her eyes looking to the audience, Chipaumire smiles and asks, "How's it?"

It's very well, thank you.  The dance is powerful and moving; Chipaumire has a commanding stage presence and exquisite control of her body.  According to Charmaine Warren (who led a disappointingly surface pre-performance discussion), the choreographer has said that it is strange to perform this piece in NYC when the "real" chimurenga is happening in Zimbabwe. The pre-show discussion had jujustring worried that the piece would show only African horror and dehumanization, but the piece breathes with full humanity – joy and anger, pleasure and anguish.

Seeing her piece reminds jujustring of the first time reading Amiri Baraka's poetry.  Just as Baraka demonstrates that writing can be both angry and poetic, with "Chimurenga" Chipaumire shows not only that dance can be angry, but that it can do it well.  Most of the "real" chimurenga may be happening in Zimbabwe, but a little piece of it is in New York.

For more information, go to http://www.dancetheaterworkshop.org/chipaumire or http://www.dancetheaterworkshop.org/blog/2008/05/01/art-and-revolution/

The New SNIC

     Shani Nwando Ikerioha Collins (hereafter SNIC) may be an emerging artist, but she's about to be established.  The choreography she presented at Dance Theater Workshop in "Lullen in a New Plantation Economy" and "Don't Live Here Go" was fresh and engaging.

"Lullen," the first piece, had brilliant costumes which evoked both early and modern clothing.  The movement was engaging; the running of people who may have been slaves in the 18th or 19th centuries lead into the running of a man in a suit and tie who is a slave to contemporary capitalism and corporate culture.

"Don't Live Here Go" was slower and more physically static.  It portrayed a women's ritual of induction or cleansing.  After SNIC had been bathed by the other women, her fear and anguish eventually transformed into all of them roaring with laughter.  The two pieces actually worked well together, partly because the dancers changed the set over while singing and dancing, creating a seamless transition.

Part of SNIC's project is to merge African and modern dance, and the two styles smoothly flowed into each other.  My only significant critique of her work is that while the choreography is quite good, the styles tend to announce themselves, as in Now We Are Performing African Dance and Now We Are Performing Modern Dance.  Jujustring thinks that when SNIC can fuse these styles more completely her work will be masterful and even more exciting.  We look forward to seeing what follows.

For video or more information, go to http://www.dancetheaterworkshop.org/collins_may