DaBY/ProLab 1st stage “Takao Norikoshi’s Dance Critics [Training → Dispatch] Program” presentation of results
This page is a critique presented in DaBY/ProLab’s first “Dance Critics [Training → Dispatch] Program” by Takao Norikoshi.
Stage reviews and reports on each festival will be updated as needed.
◆Review of "The Reviser" (stage review)
The End of the Comedy
Is comedy possible now? KIDD PIVOT's "The Reviser" (choreography and direction by Crystal Pite, script by Jonathan Young) was a clear symptom of the demise of comedy in our time.
The first half of the piece is relatively faithful to the original "The Prosecutor" (by Gogol), but in the second half, the narrative becomes dislocated, with the narration referring to the dancers' gestures and writing, and the unrestrained excesses of the body, which is exaggerated and distorted by the dancers' words. Pite and Young refer to the first half as the "Laughter" part and the second half as the "Deconstruction" or "Unknown" part, and KIDD PIVOT's originality in replacing the "Inspector" (prosecutor) with the "Reviewer" (reviewer) as the main character. However, the "reviewer" here is first of all a choreographer who revises gestures. The reviewer records, repeats, corrects, and falsifies .......
The original story is about officials in a provincial Russian city who are engaged in a comical skullduggery, but Gogol's comedy is not lighthearted: "Hey, what the hell are you laughing at? You're laughing at yourself! and he never forgets to shoot the audience. But did the audience of "The Reviser" see any resemblance of "you yourself" on the stage?
As indicated by the narration at the beginning, which counts the objects on the stage in a single, unaffected voice: "Person 1, chair, filing cabinet, person 2, desk phone (......)," and by the presence of a black woman who grabs a person's head and carries it around, what is there is merely a body that is treated as equivalent to an object. It is only a body that is treated as an equivalent of an object. The digital texture of this manipulation of the human body cannot help but remind us of Forsythe's software, which Pite studied under, and we may be allowed to see here a spatiality analogous to that of the computer. People usually have a flesh-and-blood body, which has gravity and its own contours. On this stage, however, the body becomes an object of manipulation free from those fetters, and it appears as a statistical quantity.
The "Reviser" deconstructed and deconstructed the illusion of a "unique body," and the horrifying, writhing volume that was presented at the end of the deconstruction was a deformity that transcended the human personality, character, and will. In other words, this is what I mean. In the first place, the actors in this comedy do not have human faces. If they are not human, there is no way to reveal the darkness of their hearts. It is not funny, and it is not horrifying. The Revisers" has reviewed our very image of human beings and rewritten Gogol's comedy from the bottom up.
Main reference:
The Prosecutor/Reviser" Program
Gogol, The Nose / The Cloak / The Prosecutor (translated by Masaharu Ura, Kobunsha Classics New Translation Library)
March 2020. Kid Pivot of the The Reviser/Prosecutor." in London in March 2020 was, in hindsight, a marvelously timed event that was meant to happen. There was a strange resonance, as if foreshadowing the unmasking of what was thought to be the "truth" and the spread of chaos that followed the lockdown that immediately followed.
Based on the play "The Prosecutor" by Gogol. Set in a small Russian city rife with political corruption, the play is a satirical comedy about a man who is mistaken for a high-ranking government official on an inspection mission, and uses this against him to take advantage of the corrupt officials. The original script by playwright Jonathon Young was pre-recorded and choreographed by Crystal Pite. Uniquely, the main character is mistaken for a "revisor," a reviewer of legal documents who checks each and every sentence for "truth.
The stage is divided into two parts: the first half, called "Laughing Theater," and the second half, called "Deconstruction. In the first half, the rhythmic dialogue is expressed with exaggerated body movements, like a funny yet sad puppet manipulated by words. In the second half, the physical movements of the first half are repeated, and the real prosecutor, who appears as a narrator from the beginning of the film, proceeds to "confirm the facts" by describing the movements as if they were live broadcasts. In contrast to the first half, which is filled with lies and vanity, the dancer's description of the dancer's body movements in front of her, the only words that tell the "certain truth," now moves the body to an even more extreme form.
One of the essential functions of words is their ability to remain firmly in place as memory. In this respect, language is seemingly overwhelmingly superior to dance. This is why, since ancient times, human beings have repeatedly used language to edit the past, which is considered to be the "truth," and recover it in a verbalized "truth" (dance criticism is another ambitious attempt to re-edit dance without words as language and extract the "truth" from it). The reason why a real prosecutor played the role of narrator in this work and tried to record the world unfolding on stage in words, was to expose the lies and dangers of the spoken words through this very act of revising, and at the same time to depict the very act of trying to read the "truth" from between the unknown lines of the physical expression. The purpose of this work was to depict the act of attempting to read the "truth" between the unknown lines of physical expression itself.
The more eloquently the language tries to speak, the more it becomes a comical farce far from the truth. The more the dance, a taciturn language, dances with a poetic blank space, the more it reveals the truth that we have been turning away from. This work, which vividly juxtaposes the power relationship between language and dance by constantly revising it, may have been a disturbing warning letter delivered to us today, who are learning firsthand that what appeared to be "truth" can easily come crashing down.
Crystal Pite, who has attracted worldwide attention for her unique fusion of physical vocabulary and theatrical techniques, came to Japan for the first time to perform "REVISOR/Prosecutor". She teamed up with Canadian playwright and actor Jonathon Young, and eight dancers, including Reina Narumi, danced in the piece.
Based on Nikolai Gogol's play "The Prosecutor" (1838). The officials of a corruption-ridden Russian provincial city plan to bribe a prosecutor by any means necessary, but in fact they have the wrong man. ...... Based on an episode in which Gogol wrote a play as a criticism of the regime but, contrary to his intention, it was performed in the form of a farce, "REVISOR/Prosecutor" also "revises" the play within the work, thereby bitterly exposing the human folly hidden in the comedy.
In the first half, the story is narrated by a woman, and the dancers lip-synch to a recorded commentary in Young's text. The dancers, dressed in gorgeous costumes, open their eyes and mouths wide as if they were about to burst open, dancing intermittently and wildly, their exaggerated body language reminiscent of puppets, and their comical and lovable movements bring joy to the audience. The characters' deceptions and betrayals accumulate. For example, the search for the traitor who leaked the inside information to the prosecutor by the director (Doug Letheren) and the postmaster (Rakeem Hardy) unfolds, or the plotting of self-preservation and selling out one's friends is masked by the exaggerated movements of the characters.
In the second half, however, the meta-narrator reveals himself and begins to "revise" the story from the beginning. The dancers shed their luxurious garments and seem to be freed from their puppet strings, their exaggerated movements are abandoned, and Young's words become music that resonates with the dancers. The narrator's description of the characters' emotions reveals the dark side hidden by the comedy. In the aforementioned scene between the director and the postmaster, the postmaster's suspicion that he is the traitor becomes clear, and the scene develops into a duo. They reach out and make contact with each other's arms, their legs sliding smoothly together as they writhe in the darkness. The way they want to separate but cannot, visualize the depressing nature of human relationships.
And the narrator himself discovers that the human darkness he has uncovered is within himself. And then it is "revised" and Her entity emerges onstage as the dancers' bodies merge and the dancers lip-synch to the narrator's科白. When the meta-entity is thus also incorporated into the story, the barrier between the audience and the story disappears, and the audience's bodies are also swallowed up, invading the world. There we will find ourselves in them too. It is we ourselves who will be revised next.
Danced by Canada's KIDD PIVOT, led by world-renowned choreographer Crystal Pite. The production is directed and choreographed by Pite. The script is by Pite and co-creator Jonathon Young.
Based on the masterpiece by Russian literary giant Gogol. In a small Russian city corrupted by corruption, the mayor and other officials mistake a petty official who happens to be staying with them for a "prosecutor" who is investigating the administration. This comedy depicts such "farce.
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First, in the first half, Pate also choreographed the face. The narrator speaks the lines, but the dancers are mouths. The dancers' mouths danced to the melody of the lines. On the other hand, the body emphasizes the meaning of the lines with exaggerated gestures, converting them into "bold " words, so to speak. The lines proceed in accordance with the original story, but before the climax, a voice says, "The play is over and it is time to get down to business," and the story returns to the first page.
In the second half of the season, the heat and density of the creative process increases in gear.
The dancers change from costume to rehearsal wear. The words spoken were also transformed. The dancers' words were transformed: "Raise one head and move it to the right," "In 2-1, the image I put in should speak for itself," "No, no, no," and so on. The choreographic procedures and creative struggles are revealed, rather than the words themselves. When the ceiling of an old house was stripped to make way for a new one, the irregularly shaped large wood beams were used as interior beams, and the rough-hewn "assembly method" worked charmingly.
On the other hand, the dances became more abstract, with more dynamic and primitive movements. The lighting, which follows the trajectory of the limbs like the brushstrokes of an ink painting, reveals the contours of the movement. Softly drifting group dances and macho solos. Rakeem Hardy's dynamic dance, reminiscent of a puma, was particularly impressive.
The first half of the piece is thickened with the rings of dialogue, while the second half depicts the rings of movement. Pite seems to be playing back and forth between words and body.
There was a lone, snooty dancer. She held deer antlers in both hands and her dorsal fin resembled a stegosaurus. He crossed the stage slowly and erotically. Was it a metaphor for the disastrous lust that spilled out from the original work, or a holy being watching over the ridiculous human world? Like the trompe l'oeil scene of the daughter and the old woman, it may change depending on the viewer.
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The world premiere will be 2019 year. In the U.S., the transmission of lies became an election strategy. 23 In Russia, a key domestic figure who defied the president died a mysterious death. In Japan, a major entertainment company has been covering up the sexual assault of young boys for almost half a century.
Farce beyond "mistaken identity" is real, in 2021, and everywhere.
The beauty of the sophisticated stage design and dance world soothed the eyes and scolded the heart. What about you, who are watching?
Revizor, the first Japan tour of the Canadian-based company KIDD PIVOT. The story is a farce about the corruption of power, based on the story of "The Prosecutor," a Russian-language play written by Nikolai Gogol. On the other hand, an abstract part with dance as the main element is inserted in between, and the work goes back and forth between the two parts of the story and the dance. When I paid attention to the changing spatiality that followed the composition, I could see a new aspect latent in the work.
The dialogue in the story is delivered by dancers lip-syncing to a pre-recorded voice. The text, written by playwright Jonathan Young, is delivered to the ear with a rhythmic and lively quality, but the movements of the dancers seen here are basically based on gestures. This is because it is necessary for the dancers to adapt their entire bodies to the enormous speed of the words that are spun from their lips. The words have such a strong control over the dancers that they limit their physical capabilities and define their movements. The costumes worn by the dancers as the characters and the heavy furniture placed on the stage also create barriers for the dancers to dance, giving the stage a cramped impression.
The fast-paced dialogue suddenly stalls and words begin to repeat themselves like a broken cassette tape, and the piece turns into a dance section. The dancers' movements, which had been mime-like until then, switch to isolation, slowed down to the utmost limit. The duet between Ella Hochschild and Gregory Lau, who were responsible for the transition from the story, was a masterpiece. The furniture was removed from the stage and the costumes were replaced with practice uniforms. The text, which was spoken smoothly again, played a supporting role in the dancers' movements. In a space stripped of its elements, the dancers began to dance more dynamically. The body filled with the tension of staying in a state of off-balance, and then releasing from it. In the darkness where the lights were dimmed, light effects emerged like organic smoke. The space expands into an infinite expanse as they stretch their limbs farther and farther out to seek the other side of the darkness where the boundaries are lost.
Crystal Pite, the choreographer of this work, described this scene in an interview as "deconstructive. It is reminiscent of the approach taken by her mentor, Forsythe, in his various works, in which he eliminated superfluous elements from a space and revealed the essence of its existence through dance. Unlike Forsythe, however, who thoroughly eliminated spatial elements, Pite attempted to include richer phenomena in her works by skillfully incorporating lighting effects and text as catalysts. The deconstructed scenes reveal not only the reverse side of the comedic story. The deconstructed scenes reveal not only the reverse side of the comedic storyline, but also evoke a physical sense of space that lies dormant within us.
◆Solo and duo performance reviews (each student will select his/her own performance)
Why is the postmodern inheritance being questioned?
The "Lucinda Childs Early Works from the 1970s" project during KYOTO EXPERIMENT 2023 was a performance of Lucinda Childs' dances by her niece, Ruth Childs. However, the intended question of the project was "Is it possible to transmit the origins of postmodern dance from the legendary generation to the present? The question "Can the origins of postmodern dance be passed on from the legendary generation to the present day?
Postmodern dance is known for democratizing dance by eliminating superb technique and reducing dance to the fulfillment of simple rules, or tasks, so it would seem that choreographic succession would not be a problem if it follows these rules. In the light of common sense, postmodern dance should have realized the democracy of time, and to make its succession a problem is to dance on the ground where this common sense is betrayed.
In fact, the appeal of dance is inseparable from the unique expressiveness of the dancer's body and the history of experience, and its individual, one-time nature cannot be reduced to a score or task. Still, it seems to me that the tension that arises in reducing this is the focal issue of postmodern dance. For myself and the other dancers, the best way to understand is to dance what happened. For the audience, the best way to understand is to see and hear what happened." As Ruth says, scores and tasks are only a means to "dance what happened" and cannot immediately guarantee the succession of the dance.
So what happened?
For example, the following description of the gestures performed in Ruth's 12-minute PARTICULAR REEL solo in the program is almost sufficient: "A solo that covers the entire space using spatial patterns, the dancers move from one end of the space to the parallel end on the opposite side. The dancers move from one end of the space to a parallel end on the opposite side, using a spatial pattern to cover the entire space. The pattern is completed by three repetitions of a four-minute movement sequence in which the dancers extend their arms and move continuously in horizontal and vertical arcs with respect to the floor." But of course this is not "what happened."
The location of the Kyocera Museum of Art Hall, a space not intended for a stage performance, and the choice of costumes, such as pants and tops in colors similar to the floor and walls, suggest that Ruth is interested in reweaving space-time with her body. The linearity of Ruth's steps is due to her sure footsteps, which proceed straight and unwavering step by step. The space through which the body passes is created by Ruth's walk, which reminds us of artisanal sewing work, not the other way around. In fact, the arc-shaped swinging arms evoke the impression of a sewing machine that gently stitches space-time. The rhythm of the footsteps that continues in the silence also acts to create this space-time through movement. The space-time spun by Ruth's body coincidentally coincides with the square in the center of the hall. This coincidence with the square in the center of the hall makes us realize that space and time are not just arbitrary ideas, but can be experienced in different ways.
(*All quotations in brackets are from the program of the day.)
Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons" is a romantic comedy by young British playwright Sam Stainer about a pair of men and women struggling to communicate in a world where they are forbidden by law to speak more than 140 words a day. It premiered at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe to critical acclaim in 2015, and was performed again in London's West End in February of this year.
Performing in "The Limit," a dance adaptation of the play, are Royal Ballet principals Alexander Campbell and Francesca Hayward. The project, conceived by Campbell during the lockdown three years ago, has come to fruition as a fusion of theater and dance, with Kristen McNerney, a dancer with the company, as choreographer and Ed Warren, who directed the theater version, as director.
What was unique about this dance piece was that the dancers themselves were asked to speak the lines taken from the play, and the scenes were clearly set in their own language. Hayward, who starred in the film "Cats," and Campbell, who hosts World Ballet Day every year, are both skilled dancers who can "speak" in front of an audience, and in this production they delivered their lines as naturally as actors (they even sang Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark ) and danced at the same time. No matter how talented the dancers are, this is not an easy task, and it is an effective technique because it is an intimate duet in a small theater space.
After meeting and soon moving in together, they struggle with a limited number of words to come to terms with the complications in their relationship over an uneasy relationship with an ex-lover, income disparity, and incompatible political views between different classes, but it is not easy. Eventually, he wastes words by calling out "lemon" repeatedly.
McNerney, who has made her presence felt as an actor-dancer in recent Crystal Pite productions, is in a hunched posture throughout the piece, which is at once realistic and quirky, reminiscent of Beckett's plays of the absurd. The change in distance between the two dancers is interesting, as they lean in close, move apart, or stand next to each other and perform separate movements at high speed as if they were trying to vent their pent-up frustrations.
This scheme itself is interesting and a "kind" work that is easy for the audience to understand. However, the question remains as to whether it was necessary for the dancers, who are excellent at expressing "I love you" in all its nuances using only their body movements, to actually say "lovou," an abbreviation they came up with to save words in the play, or to use Morse code while explaining the meaning word by word, just as in the play. It is questionable whether it was necessary to use Morse code while explaining the meaning verbatim, as in the play. The clearer and more impactful the verbal explanation is, the less necessity there is for dance to enter the scene, and the superior physical expressionist is there, making it seem both wasteful and conducive at the same time. It is a stylish piece by a rare dancer who can dance, speak, and even sing, but at the same time, it is a contradictory piece that reveals the danger of the balance between dance and words.
(October 19, 2023, Limberley Theatre, London)
The river flows on and on, but the water is never the same. Tired of the fierce struggle for power, Kamo Chomei moved to a small hojo hermitage and continued to face himself, trying to let go of his attachments.
1(Oblivious) LDK," performed by Junes White of the art unit of Akiko Katsura and Yoei Noda, and Kyle Yamada, director and representative of the Antigen Theater, was inspired by the Hojoiki by Kamo Chōmei.
Before the performance, the audience is given instructions written by Kyle Yamada and asked to read them. Based on these instructions, the performers choreograph and create a solo piece. Yamada's text is very poetic. Abstract phrases such as "Invite the universe in and put it in space" are a major obstacle to the choreography, but they also leave room for a variety of interpretations. The performance toured Kyoto and Tokyo, and I attended the Kyoto performance by Yoei Noda. Noda, who was born and raised in Japan but went to Taiwan to study when he was 20 years old because his father was from Taiwan and he came into contact with his father's native language for the first time, presented a piece that seemed to relate to his own existence.
The setting was the rooftop terrace of the Spanish bar Hablamos. Under a sunny afternoon sky, the dancers had only a 3m x 3m space to move around in, in contrast to the open space surrounded by low-rise buildings but with a view of Kyoto Tower and the five-story pagoda. There Noda appeared, dressed in white sweatshirt with top and bottom and holding a radio cassette and microphone in his hand, reading Yamada's text and translating it into Chinese. Along the way, Noda's memories of what seems to be her childhood, such as a memory of talking about ducks with her grandfather at the river and "I learned that ducks were delicious 17 years later in the summer," are inserted and recorded on a cassette tape. Yamada's text intermingles with her memories and connects them to issues related to Noda's identity as half Japanese and half Taiwanese.
Next, she writes a series of cute duck pictures and kanji characters with a black magic marker on several layers of light-colored, generative paper to match the recording she made earlier. She writes on the paper so as not to drive her memory into oblivion, but each time she turns the paper over, the backside letters and drawings gradually fade away. The paper itself is fragile and fragile, and when agitated by the strong wind, it is torn little by little, but Noda nonchalantly crawls on all fours, undulates his upper body and thighs to hold down the raging paper, and then tapes the paper back together. He wrapped the blanket of memories thus created around his head, and after a slight tremor, it eventually settled, and he stood there. It is as if Noda's memories are seeping into her body. It is as if she accepts herself and affirms her ambiguous existence by tracing her own memories. At that moment, the sun went down with the passage of time, and the sunset illuminated Noda. Her body, which lives "in between" Japan and Taiwan, melded with the pale light of twilight, which exists "in between" day and night, and created an elegant scene.
Noda's figure, who was solemnly confronting himself in a small space by piling up delicate motifs such as half Japanese and half Taiwanese, vague memories, and fragile paper, seemed to overlap with that of Kamo Chōmei.
Min Tanaka and Kyotaro Yanagiya: "Place Odori and Place Rakugo" (October 21, Kan-eiji Kaisando, Ueno)
Min Tanaka, world-renowned for his scene dancing, dances at a temple in Ueno. His partner is Kyotaro Yanagiya, a talented rakugo storyteller. Tanaka does not know the story to be told, and Kyotaro chooses a story to suit the water on the spot. The stage is the entire temple. Where does it all begin? The audience is waiting for the show to start at their own place.
A guitar melody began to flow as if cutting through the autumn sun. It was "Manjushaka," a love song by Momoe Yamaguchi. I noticed that Tanaka, dressed in a gray kimono, was standing simply and cleanly at the main gate of the temple. Her limbs are fragile and seem to be about to fall off, and her expression is feminine, as if she is about to burn out. She walks slowly, stoops, plunges to the ground, and stands up.
I noticed that Kyotaro was sitting on the steps of the hall as if he were a relative. He is teasing the now venerable "place dance" and challenging the common people to a fight. It is as if they are teasing the now venerable "place dance" and challenging each other to a battle with rakugo's folksy style.
Tanaka may or may not have heard that. He continues dancing and enters the hall. Then, as if the specter was going to become a Buddha, he shuffled under the high seat and disappeared from sight.
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From there it was Kyotaro's turn. He came up to the stage with a drum and the sound of a musician's drum. The audience naturally applauded. I had a strange feeling as if I was an audience member of a play within a play.Takataro chose "Osetsu Tokusaburo" for his first performance and "Shinkan" for his second. Otsetsu Tokusaburo" is a great humanistic tale. It dynamically tells the story of two people of different statuses who fall in love with each other. In "Shinkan," a handsome blind anma (bean-paste) maker tries to abandon his gentle wife, who he says is "of poor character," as soon as his eyesight returns. Human karma and marital love are carefully spun.
When the storytelling begins, Tanaka comes to life. He moves around the stage in a circle and touches the Buddhist altar with the proviso, "Do not touch. When you transcend the taboos of reality, it looks so divine, or rather, so evil. It is hard to believe that it is out of this world. It moves slowly, and although visually it may appear to stop, you can feel the internal energy that is constantly flowing into the pillar it is leaning against or the ground on which it has fallen down.
Kyotaro continued to fluently blow the winds of Edo. Tanaka seemed to be in a world of his own, sometimes anticipating the plot of his stories. (When I asked Min Tanaka after the performance, he said he had never heard any of his stories before. (When I asked Min Tanaka about it after the performance, he said he had never heard any of the stories before. It seemed as if the missing pieces were compensating for each other, or like a fistfight between sense and taste.
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When the story ends, Tanaka lends a hand to Kyotaro as he gets off the stage. The tension eased at once, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had been too absorbed in the story to notice it.Ah, what the heck. These representative men from various fields gathered at a temple in Ueno in the warm autumn weather, and with all their talents, they were singing the praises of "love" as hard as they could. Fresh love. I felt a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Mariko Kakizaki New work "Can't-Sleeper
Falling asleep is a solitary act. It is like a ritual to let go of consciousness and end the day. We do it every night, and on nights when it doesn't work, we repeat it over and over again. In the midst of what feels like an eternity, the gentle breathing of sleep from next door pierces my chest coldly. It is in these late nights that one becomes painfully aware that one is truly alone. Can't-Sleeper, a new work by Mariko Kakizaki and choreographed by Alice Godfrey, began with an irregular drum rhythm that evoked just such a ritual. Performed by Kakizaki himself and Akeon Kuris, a DaBY dancer-in-residence. Two bodies floated vaguely on the stage with the lights dimmed to the limit. Amidst a disturbing rhythm that stops and then reappears, the bodies wriggle as if checking the movement of each joint. The two walk on tiptoe as if exploring the space enveloped in darkness, drawing the audience into the labyrinth that unfolds in the silent night. Chika Kisada, a fashion designer who has a career as a ballet dancer, is in charge of the costumes for this work, and the simple bodysuit is layered with the texture of lightly tinted lace, giving it a fantastic impression. The moving visuals by Yuichiro Noda seem to capture the very atmosphere of the work itself, and the gentle music by Kouki Nakano blends into the space. Kakizaki's compositional skills shine through in the direction that enhances immersion in the work. This duo work is interesting for the contrast in physicality that stands out in each of the two artists. Kakizaki's specialty is the minute movements of his body, which seem to break down from surface to line and sometimes even to point, and the diverse expressions that emerge by freely connecting them together. For example, in his solo scene, he looks like a wild animal as he powerfully contorts his back while emitting inarticulate grunts. On the other hand, in the part of the work called "sleeping gymnastics," where the floor work continues, the spine draws rich curves, and the movements are lustrous. In contrast, Chestnut approaches space by treating the outline of his own body as a single entity. In the last scene of the work, Kakizaki recited the answers he had collected from the audience in response to the questionnaire "What do you do on nights when you cannot sleep? Kakizaki recited the answers he had collected from the audience in response to a questionnaire he had asked in advance, while Kurisaki continued to dance with ease. She repeatedly made bold movements as if she were throwing a part of her body into the air, and then precisely controlled the convergence of her movements. The dance seemed to pulsate and push out the mass of air contained in the space, which in architecture is called "air product. Today, one in five Japanese people suffer from insomnia. While many people know the anxiety of not being able to sleep, the nature of the experience, which is always experienced alone, does not allow for sharing. Still, there is a dark area that certainly exists between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleep and wakefulness. Throughout the work, this is depicted by the very existence of the two people who are paired with each other. Finally, as if to reveal this darkness, the stage was filled with light. The finale was created by Kakizaki's voice and Chestnut's dance, which echoed in the dazzling space. The next time I have a sleepless night, that scene will rise up behind my eyelids.(Viewed at Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre Theatre East on October 21, 2023)
◆Performing Arts Selection
Yasutake SHIMACHI & ROY KAN "Ai no te
Street culture has four axes: dance, rap, DJ, and graffiti, and as evidenced by the fusion of each to form its totality, dance and rap have always coexisted. AINOTE" is a collaboration between Yasutake Shimaji, a contemporary dancer who worked with the Forsythe Company in Germany and is now active in Japan, and rapper ROY TANROY. The dramaturgy is by Nagashima Koshi. This is the second collaboration between Shimaji and Tamaki, following "Arika" released in 2016. While the previous work consisted of the two facing each other on stage across the audience, exactly like a street battle, the performance of the current work took place in a so-called typical theater space where the two faced the audience from the stage. The body language and hand gestures that Tamaki naturally used as he rapped and breathed seemed somewhat like dance choreography or acting when viewed from the audience's angle. In interviews, both artists said they wanted to create something like a "play" or a "comedy," and they were able to do so through minimalist manipulations that took advantage of the relationship between action and place. Shimaji, who has been playing the role of an austere contemporary dancer in the film, mispronounces world-renowned rapper Kanye West as "Crab West," and dances with the precision of a competition demonstration, joins the powerful rap performance by Tamaki in the last scene with his unconventional dance moves. In the last scene, Shimaji joins Tamaki, who performs a powerful rap, with a dance that breaks out of the mold. In a street scene, the audience would be shaking their heads in response, but in front of them was the audience of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space, who were staring at the stage without moving an inch. The audience in front of them was the audience of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space, who were staring at the stage without a twitch of an eye. I was made an accomplice to the two, and I couldn't help but smile.Mariko Kakizaki New work "Can't-Sleeper
Falling asleep is a solitary act. It is like a ritual to let go of consciousness and end the day. On nights when things don't go well, it is repeated over and over again, and in what feels like an eternity, one becomes painfully aware of how alone one really is. Can't-Sleeper, a new work by Mariko Kakizaki and choreographed by Alice Gotfrey, began with an irregular drum rhythm that evoked just such a ritual. Performed by Kakizaki himself and Akeon Kuris, a DaBY resident dancer. Two bodies wriggling on the stage with the lights dimmed to the limit drew the audience into a labyrinth that spread out into the silent night. Kakizaki's specialty is the minute movements of his body, which seem to break down from surface to line and sometimes even to point, and the diverse expressions that emerge by freely connecting these movements. In his solo performance, his strong back contortion resembles that of a wild animal, while in the floor work part, which is referred to as "sleep gymnastics," his spine is lush with rich curves. In contrast, Chestnut approaches space by treating the outline of his own body as a single entity. In the last scene, Kakizaki recites the answers to the questionnaire "What do you do on sleepless nights? Kakizaki danced behind the audience as he recited the answers to the questionnaire, "What do you do on nights when you can't sleep? While many modern people know the anxiety of sleeplessness, its nature of always being experienced alone does not allow it to be shared. Still, there is a dark area lurking between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleep and wakefulness. This is portrayed throughout the work as the very existence of the two people who are paired with each other, and finally the stage is filled with light as if to reveal this darkness. The finale is created by Kakizaki's voice and Chestnut's dance, echoing in the dazzling space. The next time I have a sleepless night, that scene will rise up behind my eyelids.postscript
Performing Arts Selection 2023" consisted of five productions, including three new works, presented by Aichi Arts Center and DaBY, and toured four venues in Japan. The Tokyo performance, which the author saw, was presented in collaboration with the Tokyo Arts Festival. Both of the two works presented in this performance were duo pieces, but they were neither solo nor group dances, but rather a program in which one could feel the real pleasure of dancing together. In my own way of speaking from the field of architecture, "Ai no Te" could be described as a work in which the two dancers support each other with their different qualities like a pillar and a beam, while "Canʼt-Sleeper" is a work in which the two dancers accentuate each otherʼs characteristics with their opposite textures, like the relationship between a stone and wood. There are probably not many people who are not familiar with contemporary dance but who go through life with no interest in art, design, or culture in a broader sense. I am inclined to recommend selected performances as a starting point for dance appreciation because I believe one can find something that resonates within the rich context of each piece. As I looked around the theater lobby, filled with the bustle of the Tokyo Art Festival, I thought about the countless new encounters between contemporary dance and people that will be born in the years to come.(Appeared on October 21, 2023 at 14:00 at Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre Theatre East)
◆Dancing in Akita International Dance Festival Akita International Dance Festival
Nobuo Orikuchi proposed the concept of "rare visitors. It is a visiting deity who appears from the everlasting world and descends to the present world. The most representative example is the Namahage of the Oga Peninsula in Akita Prefecture, which is currently celebrated on December 31. The Namahage are taken on by ordinary people of the region. They are transformed from people into visiting deities by wearing masks and entering a trance, or possession.
Tatsumi Hijikata is a butoh guru who danced his way through life in the harsh natural environment of Akita Prefecture. The butoh score he advocated is based on a series of poetic words, which are danced according to the words. The world of imagination and images, transforming one's own body, and "becoming" or possessing the body are the important aspects of this dance.
Then there is Baku Ishii, a pioneer of modern dance in Japan and a native of Akita. Modern dance, too, is characterized by the need to express one's own emotions and to "become" the expressive body itself. In this process, the state of possession has a very important meaning. Butoh and modern dance thus have a close relationship. It is interesting to note that the pioneers of these two dances were born in Akita, Japan.
International Dance Festival "Dancing in Akita" vol.8 was held in Akita, Japan from October 27 to 29, 2023. Akita" vol.8, which took place in Akita from October 27 to 29, 2023, brought together dancers, choreographers, and dance directors from all over the world, including Japan and Korea, and closed with great enthusiasm.
This year, the International Dance Selection finalists will perform on the 27th and the second finalists on the 29th, and on the 28th, there will be a special program titled "Dance. On the 28th, "Jap/Vanese" by Indonesian dancer Mo Haryanto and "Shishi Odori" and "Koma Odori" from Fujikoto Toyosaku Odori, Akita's joint performing arts, were performed. The second finalist group, Annabelle Dubiel from Israel, was unable to come to Japan due to the outbreak of the Israel-Gaza War and had to cancel her performance. As a replacement, Jap/Vanese was performed again on the 29th.
In addition, major changes have been made to the festival this year. First of all, Akita Prefecture and the city of Akita no longer subsidize the festival. The name "International Dance Festival in Commemoration of Baku Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata" was used until then, but the names of Ishii and Hijikata have disappeared as the festival has become better known as an international dance festival. However, perhaps because of the location of Akita, the performances presented by these "rare people" from around the world were somewhat thought-provoking in terms of possession. Even though the names of Baku Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata have disappeared, their spirits seem to have been inherited.
The first distinctive feature of the first group of finalists' performances was the performance of works based on street art. In Kim Joseph's (Korea) "Gom-bang-yi-teot-da," a ribbon is worn on the head and swung around, and the circular trajectory of the ribbon colors the space. Interestingly, however, the ribbons on the head sometimes become Kim's stumbling block. What emerges from the action, as if the ribbon is pulling her back, seems to be Kim's own struggle to live her life as a street performer. In this sense, this work can be seen to be influenced by expressionism. Because of this, when she tried to manipulate the ribbon, her body for the purpose of performing the technique was visible, and it was difficult to see the expression of conflict in some parts.
And what was unique in terms of intense physicality was "There Was No Room to Eat" by Seo Jung-bin, a promising new star from South Korea. His presence and unique physical vocabulary are overwhelming, as if he had fused the physicality of rock dance and ballet. The work also connects the motifs of plastic bags and plastic chairs that come out of the mouth to social issues such as abuse and environmental problems.
Conversely, the piece that stood out for its simplistic physicality was Cho Hyun-do's "From Rock to Gravel. The two men in black suits simply repeated simple actions such as tripping and getting up. By repeating these actions over and over again, the body shifts into a trance-like state of nothingness. This was reminiscent of the idea of Butoh, in which the expressive body enters into a state of nothingness.
The second group of finalists, Rio Yamaguchi, danced to Western music on October 29. Although they danced modern techniques, the techniques used were of the modern dance type and perhaps a little less original in terms of new physicality. On the other hand, Ayane Nakagawa's "Endangered Species" is characterized by a physicality that causes pain to the body. She sat on a chair and kept shaking her body. I was so overwhelmed by the true-to-life dance that it was tiring for me to watch.
And as a special event, "Dancing in Akita" associate dancer for 2023. Akita" associate dancer Reisa Shimojima danced "Jap/Vanese" with Indonesian dancer Mo Harianto. The piece focused on the "discord and difference between two peoples, Japanese and Javanese, who are only one letter apart. First, the audience was shocked to see Mo Harianto enter a trance-like state. In this trance-like state, he makes strange noises that are hard to believe to be coming from a human being, and his shoulder blades contort and dance wildly with explosive energy, giving off an overwhelming sense of presence. Shimojima was not to be outdone, and his movements, which reminded one of traditional performing arts with a lower center of gravity, showed an affinity with the physicality of Koma Odori, a traditional Akita Prefecture performing art performed on the 28th, namely, the creation of kinetic energy by wearing heavy armor and dancing by stepping on the earth. Eventually, Shimojima, too, gradually shifted into a trance-like state through his powerful movements. By confronting the differences and affinities between the Javanese and the Japanese in this way, the importance of seriously confronting ethnic differences was presented. This is a work that is appropriate for the current era of globalization after the end of the Corona disaster, and for an international dance festival.
At the reception party held after the show, it was decided that some of the films would be invited to festivals by foreign directors. Dancing in Akita" will lead to another dance festival. Akita" led to another dance festival. Thus, the "Rarebitos" who came to Akita traveled to another country.
ProLab International Dance Festival "Dancing. Akita" vol.8 Report
Lurking festivals in the city
A festive landscape mixed with the everyday. A rewriting of a part of the city occurs, and people who do not usually mingle exist on the same layer for a few days. Even if it is only a minor intervention, when the landscape looks different and a little fresh, people's proactive awareness of their environment is restored. This effect, which can be called an urban gimmick, is what makes festivals so interesting.
The international dance festival "Dance. Akita" has been held annually since 2015, and this year, after the Corona Disaster, marked its 8th edition. Art festivals are now an event that can be seen everywhere in Japan. The situation has become somewhat saturated, and each region is seeking elaborate themes for the festival. In such a situation, this festival has a strong concept consisting only of dance, a program that can be seen only here, where artists from Japan and abroad gather, and a unique location in Akita, the birthplace of Desai Ishii and Tatsumi Hijikata, who laid the foundation of Japan's modern dance history. This inevitable accumulation of settings is something to behold.
The festival will run for three days from October 27 (Fri.) to 29 (Sun.), with the International Dance Selection by Tatsumi Hijikata on the first and last day, and a special program of performances on the middle day. About 100 works from six countries were selected through an open call for entries and recommendations from overseas dance festivals. The artistic director of "Dancing. Akita" artistic director, Mr. Sanda Yamakawa, and others carefully selected 11 finalists (as mentioned below, one of the finalists did not make it to Japan, so 10 works were actually performed), each with a completely different character. The selection performances that brought them all together were like a microcosm filled with encounters with the unknown. Here, I would like to introduce all the works from the two days of performances at once.
Tatsumi Hijikata International Dance Selection, Performance by the first group of finalists
The work that opened the first day was "Political Spaghetti" (Japanese title: "P.S."), choreographed by Ayako Takahashi, who is based in New York and Yokohama. The two dancers, Nozomi Ohgami and Akane Koizumi, are connected by a red thread extending from their closed lips. Their dance is delicate and tinged with a certain sadness, born from a sense of detachment that is lost when they open their mouths. The work was like a gentle embrace, depicting the contours of such contradictory feelings of being afraid of being hurt by deep communication, but still seeking someone else.
Choreographed by Jo Hyun Do of Korea, "From Rock to Gravel" was a collection of small chapters that unfolded by switching the lighting. The repetitive slamming of the body against the stage and the dancers' ragged breathing towards the end of the piece were painful, but the work was like a stoic practice to make us perceive life through hardship.
Phantom," choreographed and performed by Yuri Yamamura. I was intrigued even before the performance began by his unique title as a juggler and dancer. The music was performed live by Azumi Piano, a pianist trained in Germany. Even I, with little knowledge of juggling, was able to recognize the superb techniques that were full of real joy, overlapped with a piano tone full of a sense of speed, like a rain of notes. On the dimly lit stage, only the 24 white balls flying in the air and the fingertips of Yamamura manipulating them emerged, and the afterimages of their trajectories created a fantastic scene before the audience's eyes. The scene that followed was, by contrast, calm. Yamamura carefully scooped up the scattered balls one by one and rearranged them. In this way, the mandala on the floor continues to transform, and the scene before our eyes is transformed into an abstraction that can only be described as "something white, round, and soft, and a man playing with it. The transition of dimensions created by small gestures is accompanied by the music of Azumi Pia, who accompanies the process. It was a work that encompassed a rare spatial experience.
By the way, since I have a background in architectural design, I paid attention to how each piece in this selection of performances approached the scale of the stage and audience. The most thought-provoking work in this regard was "Gom-bang-yi-teot-da," choreographed and performed by Kim Joseph of Korea. The chains connected to the headgear, the key element of the piece, circled around his body, creating an iconic scene. The long chain, which was a little too long for the space, occasionally bumped into the lights and stage sleeves. Or should it be seen as a rough handling of space? I personally was intimidated by the directness of the expression, and could not fully accept his step toward the audience, crossing the boundary itself at the end of the piece.
There was no room for food" by Seo Jung-bin from Korea was another impressive work in its use of space. She initially stood in a space dotted with mismatched plastic chairs. The spatial composition with depth, using the entire stage, already showed a remarkable sense of space. The light leaking from the gaps between the chairs was surprisingly like sunlight filtering through trees, casting organic shadows on her body, which was standing at the end of the light source. It is amazing how a plastic chair (bought at Daiso in Korea, by the way) can play with space like this. As if to overwhelm the viewer with her natural sensibility, she suddenly sits down on the floor and spits out a convenience store bag she had been holding in her mouth like a piece of bubble gum. The cheeky, childlike charm of the woman made me completely surrender to her. In fact, this film was originally created with the concept of conveying an SOS message from marine organisms that eat the plastic garbage that humans throw away, and once one understands this, each expression in the film takes on a completely different aspect. While a strong message is latent, the work leaves room for interpretation and is poetically expressed as a beautiful dance in a space created by the diversion of everyday items, which is brilliant. By the way, the Japanese title "There was no room for food," which is a literal grammatical translation of "There was no room for food," or perhaps a more literal translation based on the author's intention, is still questionable.
The Palace by Megan Doheny and Ilya Nikulov has an impressive introductory scene with a chandelier, which is also used in the festival's key visual. The dancers, who acted as mysterious guides, led the audience into the world of the piece, and their duo dance was dramatic as the piece shifted between abstract and concrete, fantasy and reality, and emerged on stage as a story of a relationship between a man and a woman.
Tatsumi Hijikata International Dance Selection Finalists Group 2 Performance
The first piece in the Selection Group 2 performance is "Equatorial Roadless Belt" by Mizuki Ko. In this piece, a single body traverses a silent stage, and that is all that happens. In this traversal, the dancers shift their range of motion from joint to joint while locking their entire body. This may remind you of street dance-like isolations. However, by thoroughly and obsessively removing noise from her series of movements, she sublimated them into a somewhat minimalistic, inhuman, and déjà vu-free expression. The gap between her inorganic movements and the terrible look in her eyes that she throws at the audience in the last scene is thrilling.
What is noteworthy about "little love," choreographed and performed by Rio Yamaguchi, is her strong expressive power. While moving freely across the stage space, the vector of her consciousness always catches us, the audience, in the act. Her spirited dance, like that of a wild beast trapped in a cage, shows not only her physical prowess but also her hungry spirit. The work was a work that made the most of the dancers' unique skills, including a slow and rapid composition that dared to have a silent showcase at the climax of the music, as if they were experienced showcase and battle dancers. We have high expectations for this dancer to become a pioneer of "fascinating" contemporary dance that combines backgrounds.
Human," choreographed by Park Su-yeol of Korea, begins with five dancers folding their bodies together on stage. The huge rock-like elements are eventually unraveled in soft movements and split into individual dancers. A new space is created by reconnecting their relationship like particles scattered on the stage. The dancers' individuality shone through in their solo dances, duo dances, and group dances, which developed in parallel, creating a diverse scene.
The last of the selections, a new work by Ayane Nakagawa, winner of last year's "Dancing. The final piece in the selection, a new work by Ayane Nakagawa, winner of last year's "Akita" award, left a special aftertaste. Dressed in a T-shirt and disheveled hair, Ayane wandered around the silent stage. Her every movement seemed to suggest a message about sexuality, but what struck me was the introduction to the piece that preceded it: a waltz by J. Strauss, in which she sat on a chair and shook her body, shakily and unceasingly, against her own will. It was a tremor that seemed to rise up from the core of her body, and it did not stop against her will. She is a dancer by nature, but the way she exposed herself, as if to appeal that this was the only way for her to dance, shook my heart more than I understood it.
Special Program Performance "Jap/Vanese" (Performed by: Fujisato-cho Kamiwaka Local Performing Arts Preservation Society)
On the second day of the festival, "Jap/Vanese" by Reisa Shimomura and Mo Harianto was performed in collaboration with the Fujisato-cho Kamiwaka Local Performing Arts Preservation Society. This project was born out of the exchange of ideas between Shimomura and the group in Fujisato-cho, where Shimomura and the group stayed during the production of the piece.
First, two traditional performing arts of Fujisato-cho, which Shimomura and others were taught in the area, were performed by the preservation group. The Shishi Odori (lion dance), whose steps to the rhythm of taiko drums evoked earthquakes, and Koma Odori (piece dance), in which the performers play their armor as if it were a musical instrument. I was overwhelmed by their powerful expressions, which simultaneously appealed to both the auditory and visual senses of the audience. These dances are performed every year in conjunction with the annual shrine festival in September, and the dancers begin practicing about two weeks before the festival. I was impressed by what one of the performers said after the performance: "These movements have been ingrained in my body since I was taught them as a child, but I have never danced them as if they were dances. This sense of physical expression before becoming dance is also linked to "Jap/Vanese," which will be performed later in the program.
Jap/Vanese" was created at a workshop in Singapore last year, and has been refined since June of this year as part of the "Dancing. The work has been refined through an artist-in-residence program in Akita since June of this year. The work is a complex intertwining of various sources of inspiration, such as Shimomura's origins in Yosakoi dance, Mo's background in Indonesia, and the two's experience training in Fujisato-cho, but they are beautifully edited together without becoming chaotic. The steps taken to the beat of the electronic music and the clapping of tongues as the dancers clapped their bodies, while showing elements of Fujisato-cho dances, appeared as original movements that had undergone reinterpretation. Shimomura said that rather than incorporating the movement patterns themselves, the two artists started their work from the spirit of the festival that runs through the foundation of both of them and Fujisato-cho. Mo, with a gamelan ball wrapped around his waist, and Shimomura, with a naruko in his hand, are dancing to the music. The exuberance created by the dancing duo spread throughout the space, filling the audience with a sense of excitement as they witnessed a new world, even after the performance was over.
Jap/Vanese" again
There was another finalist in this year's festival who was a finalist in the selection performances. She is Annabelle Dubiel, who lives in Israel. Despite desperate last-minute attempts to find a flight to Japan in the current climate, she was unable to make it to the festival. She was lonely, isolated, and anxious about her future. I can't find the words to express these feelings..." On the last day of the festival, when Annabelle was supposed to perform her piece "FICTIONS," Yamakawa read out the message she had sent to the audience in a trembling voice.
Shimomura and Mo came forward to perform in her place, and "Jap/Vanese," which was performed again, sounded completely different from the previous day. Although this piece is a duo piece, their bodies do not actually touch each other during the performance. This is partly for religious reasons for Mo, who is a Muslim, and partly as a result of their response to the question of how to handle their independent personalities. A light border drawn on the ground by the lighting divides the stage space into two parts. The two dancers danced as if they were competing with each other across this strip of light, but the opposing energies of the two dancers created a strangely harmonious landscape. Differences certainly exist. Accepting this fact as it is is the beginning of compromise, and that is what the word "coexistence" suggests about the world. At the end of the piece, the wall of the stage breaks in two to reveal a large horse's tail hanging from the ceiling. Behind Shimomura and Mo, standing in the red light, the horse's tail gently swayed, encompassing all the feelings entrusted in the work and seeming to nod in agreement.
generalize
The subtitle of this year's festival was "Your arts adventure awaits. As the title suggests, the three days of the festival were a series of encounters with the unexpected feelings that welled up inside of us when we came into contact with the artworks.
As a northern country, there are only a limited number of good weather periods when events can be held, and the lack of public transportation makes it difficult for young people to even come to the evening performances on their own. In addition to his passion for the festival, Mr. Yamakawa also spoke of his environmental woes. Nevertheless, the special performance on the second day was packed with local people who had come to support the preservation society, and it was a good opportunity to bring "Jap/Vanese" to a wider audience. It seemed like a very natural way to interact, and it made me honestly think how much more fun it would be to expand the festival's circle in this way.
The next "Dancing. Akita" is scheduled to be held in February2025. And one of the major themes of the organizers is "crossing borders. The various forms of crossover already foreseen for this year's festival are likely to be further developed. And with the newly established artist-in-residence program at the core, the festival will not only be a main festival, but will also be a year-round event. The dots connect to form a line and stand up amidst the falling snow. Dancing. I look forward to seeing the new scenery that can only be seen in "Dancing Akita. (5856 words )