Haley Greenwald-Gonella

Matthew Bourne is a risk-taker.  Bourne’s Play Without Words at the Ahmanson Theater is most likely viewed from a better artistic vantage point from a box seat than from the traditionally coveted orchestra circle.

The semi-aerial view of Play Without Words is amazing.  The diagonals that were employed by the triad of the dancers’ three-part selves read exceedingly well from above.  What Bourne did by using three people to flesh out an entire person could not have been understood as well from a lower seat in the theater.  This concept must have looked confusing and slightly muddled.  From above, however, it was very evident that the various dancers that made up each character were just that and nothing less.

Watching this work makes one feel as though he/ she is in G-d’s head in Paradise Lost, for he can see the past, present, and future all at once.  The ways in which the various personalities seduced, boogied, and postured themselves with one another allow the audience to feel as though they are seeing whole people and not just one side—these characters were complete.  The most complete dancers and those who deserve a great deal of kudos on their performance were Maxine Fone and Valentina Formenti.  These two women were spectacular.  The way in which they went from a small-town, bright-eyed girl to a woman who was torn between lovers and her own shame was incredible.  Not only did these two dancers show this change in their faces, but this transformation was also evident in their bodies to extreme detail.

In the beginning, Sheila’s character was open and ready to embrace adventure.  Later, there were moments of seduction and displays of sexual abandon—her rendition of a 1960’s go-go dancer atop a table, but the most important transition was from the meekness of a housemaid to woman of the house, which Fone and Formenti showed in their shoulders—for they knew how to display that they carried knowledge and/or experience upon them.  Sheila’s story was like that of Millie’s in Thoroughly Modern Millie—a small town girl goes to New York and the city puts a few hard edges on her.

Even though the dancing was modern in technique, it was apparent that these strong-legged women also had ballet training.  Their bios in the program confirmed this.  This training gave their quality of movement a sense of thoughtfulness and great fluidity, which was so entirely genuine that the character was that much more relatable and broke through the fourth wall in an almost defiant way.

It seems that Bourne was having a great deal of fun when he choreographed this work.  There is a sense of recklessness, but it is a kind, artful recklessness.  The storyline is simple, and yet, complex because of the emotion-infused choreography and what the audience ultimately brings with them and how it colors what they see.  Additionally, because the subject matter is people and their relationships with one another, it hits close to home for anyone and everyone.

While at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, I had the privilege of seeing a small dance performance on the outskirts of town.  It was quite a trek to get to the small theater, so I hoped that the performance would be worth the work it took to get there.  I was instantly intrigued, even before the performance began, for the work being shown was entitled “This is Not a Dance about Love.”

A man and a woman walked out onto the stage and clutched each other.  They looked like they were on a dance floor somewhere in the 1950’s as they swayed their bodies in time with the silence; using their breath as a metronome.  I was drawn in immediately.  Suddenly, the tone of the piece changed dramatically and they began voraciously throwing each other around the stage.  It was intensely violent.  It was intensely passionate.  Almost as quickly as the throwing began, it ended.  The woman started swearing at her partner in Spanish.  He yelled back horrible things in English.  Then they stood there—silent.  They started parallel movement phrases, their bodies swiftly passing each other as they traversed the stage. They started slowly and softly repeating the spoken word phrases they had previously yelled at each other.  The silence in the theater became a tapestry of terrible words woven together as the backdrop for this beautiful, intricate, incredibly loving movement.  Once again the movement stopped.  The female dancer began gliding through her phrase again.  The male dancer systematically arranged six bottles of wine as he crouched on the ground.  The woman grabbed a bottle and started to drink it and then spit wine at her partner as he finished arranging the other bottles.  Then he retaliated.  As the bottles became more and more empty, the stage became wetter and wetter.  At one point, the man stood at the back of the stage and lifted his head and started to simply pour out one of the bottles over himself.  The image evoked something rather Christ-like and then the movement phrases started again.  During this repetition the dancers slipped and caught themselves as they ran from one side of the stage to the other, as the stage was mercilessly wet with wine.  The piece was abrasive and lovely at the same time.  I was horrified and entranced.  I was emotionally exhausted after this piece, and yet, I still had to find my way back to the hostel in the middle of town.

Last Night is a science fiction, psychological thriller version of modernized A Clockwork Orange.  This film features a nightless night, which encompasses the last few hours of the world’s existence.  The plot centers on Patrick Wheeler (Don McKellar), a man semi-committed to being alone in his last few hours, and Sandra (Sandra Oh), who is convinced that she has found true love with her now-second husband and seems to be also in love with the idea of human contact itself.  This unlikely pair meets in the war zone that Canada has become just before the world ends.

This film struggles to answer the question “what would you do if you knew the world was going to end?”  However, this question is asked of the whole of humanity.  Writer, director, star Don McKellar constructs a chaotic environment where seemingly all morality is gone.  Each character develops his/ her own way of coping with the world’s end and this is epitomized by the way in which each chooses to spend his/ her last hours—from prayer circles to destructive acts to faux Christmas celebrations and even a last minute piano recital, each person seeks to fulfill final desires.  As far as Last Night’s main characters are concerned, nothing seems to go as planned.

McKellar throws in a few clever lines of note.  The ransacked grocery store proclaims that “everything must go” and the radio station, playing the top 500 songs of all time, states that it will stay with its listeners “until the end.”  Additionally, throughout the film the gas company morbidly calls each one of their customers and promises that they will keep the gas on for as long as they can.  This almost seems like an invitation to utilize the gas as a way out before the world ends.

This film could be a cult-classic for a trend, such as “greening,” which could use snip-its of it to emphasize what could happen if more people don’t recycle or pay attention to how resources are used and abused.  There is also a faint message of hope and love and a bit of Quentin Tarantino-inspired cinematography.

Last Night predates Donnie Darko by a few years and seems to pave the way for this cult-classic—complete with abandoned bunny rabbit costume head.  Last Night makes its audience ponder deep, existential questions, but does not seem to have the umph necessary for mainstream staying power.

Today could be the last first day of a semester for me, if I decide not to get my PhD…  It’s kind of weird.  Even though I was working for the last two years, I guess I still considered myself a student.  Going to school is such a huge part of life.  Thinking about not being in school ever again after May is hard to wrap my mind around.