Two by two they come out. Bodies organically clump together only to be removed like mannequins put into winter storage. It is cold outside. It must be wintertime. It must be the calm before the storm. Gezeiten opens up on this note, and I say to myself, “I will love this.” It was also accompanied by Bach’s Cello Suites. You can pair anything with these dramatic suites and I will love it. Tedious magnetic-like attractions between the dancers form and de-form. Segments of comical relief happen. There is the obvious Pina Bausch association. Reminiscences of Trisha Brown’s Accumulation. I think a catastrophe is coming, but everybody is strong and docile and into yoga. Each segment varies in length and is loosely connects with the next. Every body adheres to a mysterious logic.
I think a catastrophe is coming. A girl cries with a plastic bag in front of her face. The tears leaking out of two punctured eyeholes. We need to work together. Or, actually we don’t. “Don’t touch him!” one of the them yells. A man builds miniature crosses with bricks. They toss each other around like rag dolls. Dancers with beaks peck and squabble at a table. We need to listen to each other. We need to build a bridge. There is something terrible going on out there, so we stay inside. A girl turns into a dog and takes a seat.
“When the beans are spilled somebody loses a secret. When the dam breaks a private pond becomes a public ocean.” Jill Johnston writes in Marmalade Me. “Lunacy is a perception of disintegrating boundaries.”
Fire destroys a wall. The whole theater is glowing. The floorboards are thundering. It is after the flood and I am trying to make this whole, but there are props and dust everywhere. The theatricality makes me squirm and it’s been way over an hour. The outside disaster seems to be over and now we’re only dealing with the inside, which I think is much worst than the outside. The whole theater inside.
In the end, three large amorphous cloth figures appear. Writhing cocoons trying to come out.
