Joe Ink's DUSK: every cloud has a silver lining

So before you read this, I must warn you -- I didn't actually make it through the whole show. I had a few pre-show cocktails at the Alibi Room (a must do for anyone attending a performance at the Firehall) and my bladder simply couldn't contain itself for the entire hour. I was alright until 8:37 (the first time I checked the time on my phone) but my last note about the show simply says I HAVE TO PEE at 8:46. At this point I not so stealthily made my way out of the back of the theatre and relieved myself. Back in the lobby, I realized I was the lucky individual who would have first pick of the delicious opening night food provided by Two Chefs & A Table. Every cloud has a silver lining.

I may have missed 10 or 15 minutes, and the ending is generally an important part of the show. Though based on what I saw in the first 45 minutes, I'm not sure I misssed much. Now, here is where I start to feel conflicted. Why is it that when I go to see a contemporary dance show, I expect to see more than just fantastic dancers moving the way they want to move? Is it fair of me to expect to be wowed and dazzled and maybe even deeply moved? I don't think so. So much of modern dance has become talking about the art form, that sometimes I worry we've lost sight of why we dance in the first place - to express the emotions that we cannot put into words in the first place. The DUSK concept seems flimsy on paper, and doesn't seem to translate in any meaningful way to the stage.

Honestly, some of my notes are completely impossible to interpret. The DUSK lighting was, naturally, very dark - so my scribbles are somewhat indecipherable. What "great hair warped arch seizure jig" means, we may never know. I am also now acutely aware that going into a performance knowing that you are planning to review it, you automatically become a bit cynical. I adopted a very judgmental stance. Attending this performance was no longer about my personal enjoyment., it was now about deconstructing and analyzing. A difficult task to do after seeing a piece only once, but here are a few of my thoughts.

The first thing we notice about DUSK is that the choreography is obviously derived from the dancers own improvisations. I would like to say this aspect of the performance lead to a feeling of comfort or
ease in the movement, but instead I wondered why these fantastic movers weren't being pushed more in any direction. Watching dancers do things they are comfortable with for an hour is not as enthralling as you might hope. One of the things that I never want to be able to say after seeing a professional dance show is "I could have done that." Why should I pay to see people do what I can do? I want bodies to do things I've never imagined. Though this could be the alcohol talking. Anyway, I'm getting a bit off topic. The thing about basing choreography on improvisation is that the piece begins to look like it's being improvised, but it lacks any spontaneity. There were several times I wondered if a section was being improvised or if it had been carefully constructed using the dancers own vocabularies. It's never a good thing when you can't tell the difference. Moments of true improvisation happen out of whatever the performer is feeling in that one moment in time - what we have here is instead of these impulses feeling free and joyous, they feel stiff and structured. Here's the problem - calculated choreography is just not interesting to watch. If something is improvised and it isn't interesting, that performer took a chance in that moment, and it didn't work out at that point in time. If something is choreographed and it isn't interesting, there is a much bigger problem.

A few motifs kept re-ocurring during the show -- some seem to happen again and again no matter what show you see - monkey in the middle being the primary example here. An early section saw the cast of dancers taking turns moving parts of Matt Waldie's body. This is the sort of thing you'd expect to see in the studio the first week of the creation process -- a tool for these dancers to get to know each others' bodies. While this is a very useful exercise in that context,  you have to wonder why it turns up here to take up half of a full length work by a choreographer who we know has more to offer. Joe Laughlin seems like a genuinely likeable guy -- fantastic energy with a dark streak. DUSK takes the dark streak and seems to forget about the other equally valuable aspects of his personality. I have no problem with darkness -- it's sort of expected in the abstract world of modern dance. Here, however, instead of feeling like he pulled that darkness out of his guts it feels like a William Forsythe tribute hour. Is the audience willing to settle for a Crystal Pite imitation piece? More importantly, is Joe? Of course those choreographers are highly respected, but it's because they were true to their own visions in the first place. This full length should have been a totally original piece of art -- those of us who are familiar with Joe's work know that he is capable of personality and wit and humour and energy...things that DUSK seemed to set aside in favour of something a bit less unique, and far less entertaining.

That brings me to another struggle that many contemporary artists have to deal with -- how do you create an abstract work of art that will appeal to the masses? You can't create something from the point of view of the audience, because if you pander to them it won't feel original or genuine. That being said, if you ignore the needs of the audience they will leave feeling disappointed -- not something we want our audiences feeling during such a precarious time in the state of the arts in BC. Not that I'm suggesting choreographers should add slapstick sight gags to make the audience laugh, but as someone who loves to laugh, I wanted to know there is some humour at the dimming of the day. I wanted some shading, some lighter moments to help me appreciate the darker moments. The tone, however, remained steady throughout, leaving me less affected by the DUSK than I might have been. The one surprise came early on when the dancers seemed to melt into the backdrop and you realized a panel was missing from the black curtain -- allowing dancers to fade in and out as needed.

DUSK is all about Jeannie Vandekerkhove, and rightly so -- she is a powerhouse. A stunning dancer with gorgeous facility and a completely authentic stage presence. A series of duets happens where she stays on stage and the other dancers rotate through -- they all want the chance to dance with her. During one strange moment she appeared in beams of pink and blue lights (the lighting was otherwise quite dim and relatively colourless) and performed what I can only describe as the disco alien sequence. You go girl. The other performers range from faceless to mildly interesting. I wanted to see more of Matt Waldie. He was a late addition to the cast, which is a pity because he is a wonderful presence on stage. Kevin Tookey has come a long way from his jazz dance roots, but his solo felt rigid through his entire torso. His limbs moved fluidly and almost maniacally, but his abdomen seemed glued in place. There was one brief glimmer of hope, when he placed one hand on his side and attempted to shift his rib cage over, but it was all in vain - the movement was left up the extremeties after that point, his core somehow disengaged.

Tara Dyberg is a very unique dancer, but her quirky posturing was often ignored in favour of backbend after backbend. As stunning as theses moments were, it's difficult not to notice the tension she carried in her jaw throughout the show. For a piece that seemed to cater to the wants and needs of the dancers, the stern tone they adopted seemed at odds with the freedom and lack of challenge in the actual dancing. Perhaps this can be chalked up to opening night jitters? Or perhaps to the fact that the performers are inexplicably wearing socks, which might seem trivial, but that extra layer of fabric makes it so much more difficult for dancers to feel grounded and at home in their movement.

The show was almost completely devoid of unison sequences, resorting to mostly solos and duets. This isn't really a new trend and based on the sloppiness of the few unison sections, this may not have been to the shows detriment. It was in these moments that we saw how poorly matched these dancers are. Individually they are strong, but the few times the entire cast was on stage together they were either childishly picking on each other, piling up or huddling up to feign some kind of attachment to the other performers.

I realize this all sounds quite negative, and I don't mean for it to. At least, not entirely. This is a choreographer I appreciate and these are dancers I know and enjoy. The show was dancers doing exactly what they were born to do how they wanted to do it, and that is fantastic. It looked like the type of movement that would feel good to do. Unfortunately for the audience, we don't know how it feels, we only know how it looks, and those internalized feelings can't take the place of the things the audience can feel or see. Without proper context, imagination, and (for lack of a better word) heart, the piece doesn't leave a lasting impression. A few images might stick, but when they don't seem to connect to each other in a way that feels natural or meaningful, these moments seem less important than they should.