Three new works by dancer and choreographer Ryu Suzuki, in collaboration with Dance Base Yokohama, where he has been associate choreographer since 2020, are three different variations on a very contemporary and broad-ranging theme: “Is my body mine? The result of Suzuki’s creative process, which was carried out in the form of a collective work in cooperation with Dance Base Yokohama, where he will serve as associate choreographer from 2020, is a realization that his work has advanced to a new level.

‘never thought it would’.

　Multiple neon lights float randomly, creating an inorganic atmosphere. The neon lights, just above the floor, illuminate a body lying beneath the neon lights. Suzuki seals off his original sharpness and speed, and shows gentle peristalsis as he lies prone. However, the body wrapped in a metallic brown bodysuit gradually unleashes movement as the lights flicker and change color in response to the electro sound of Alva Noto (Karsten Nicolai). The diverse nuances of the movements and the unexpected coordination with the body axes are only possible with Suzuki, an excellent dancer. The dance gains height and breadth, heats up as it is guided by the soaring music and lights, and surges to a climax – until it burns itself out before the audience’s eyes.
　Suzuki reveals that one of the inspirations for this work came from a line in Goethe’s poem “Ascension Aspiring,” in which the poet describes a moth that is moving inexorably toward a dazzling light. The dancer who is so fascinated by beauty that she dances to the point of losing sight of herself is none other than Suzuki himself. By overlapping the romantic artistic theme of an artist suffering from the gap between ideals and reality with the contemporary theme of an artist who is incorporated into and consumed by the system of a highly developed capitalist society, and by developing this in an abstract space, the solitude of an artist who is destined to continue dancing is brought to light. Suzuki’s originality lies in this point.

Proxy.”

　Since ancient times, human beings have sought their essence in their soul and body, pursuing an ideal human image. However, in the 21st century, it is possible for us to live in another reality with an avatar in a virtual space as our ideal self, without a soul or body. Suzuki depicts the relationship between the pluralizing ego and others by employing six young dancers, mostly high school students, and a puppet created by French artist Odite Picot.
　When the curtain opens, six puppets stand in a row on the stage, looking directly at the audience. Behind the puppets, bathed in spotlights and proudly asserting their individuality, the space dominated by silence and darkness is the space of the six dancers. All of the dancers are clad in black, slumped over, and repeat solitary gestures, but they suddenly synchronize to create a sharp ensemble. The dancers exude energy through their highly technical dance and varied choreography, but the imbalance between their individuality and their muted appearances makes them seem even more dangerous.
　Although the dolls are “proxies” for humans, it is interesting that they are not restricted to the dualism of false image and substance, or absence and presence. After the contrast between the immobile puppet and the intense dance that unfolds to sharp electronic sounds, the piece moves on to a beautiful duo scene in which a boy and a girl make a small contact with each other, as if to confirm their mutual understanding, accompanied by the gentle piano. The choreography carefully shows the process of overcoming excessive self-consciousness and fear of others and finding a place in reality. It is a dance that visualizes and tells a story of the universal pain of youth and delicate psychology within a contemporary theme.

When will we ever lean ?

　When the curtain opens, a man in a black suit is in the center of the stage, with three dancers in white at intervals. The silence is broken by passionate vocals, and one by one, the dancers, urged on by the man, dance hard under the lights. One woman dances a lonely battle, one man strikes a stylish pose, and one dancer accepts a violent intervention. The relationship with the “choreographer” varies. The man in black is Suzuki, and the dancers are Rinako Iida, who was a member of NDT, Mariko Kakizaki, who worked in Israel, and Ken Nakagawa, who worked at the center of Noism. These four top-level performers in both expression and technique earnestly tackle the theme of ” asymmetrical relationships” that can be inherent in the creation of stage productions.
　However, the work does not naively denounce the superiority of the choreographer or the conflict between choreographer and dancer. The composition of confrontation changes diversely, from 3 against 1 to 2 against 2, and the new balance creates a drama of conflicting emotions such as anger and resignation, defiance and reverence, and the exchange of affections. The composition is clear, and the scene transitions are dramatically effective. The interplay between the intense dance scenes that unfold with 1960s American music that defies the established order and the dreamlike dance scenes that spread out in a space of silence creates a multilayered depiction of the hard reality and mental landscape that the dancers confront.
　The work deftly demonstrates how the event of “choreography” becomes an event that is taken on by the lives of the individual dancers and brought to the attention of the audience through their personal feelings and mutual interference. The performers’ abilities and the creator’s wit make this a fascinating work in which the choreography speaks for itself.

Even Okami