Moving meditation on the need for human connection
“Who would you like to remember today?” the sparse programme explanation of this work from Rambert asks. “If you could help one person today, who would it be?” From these questions, the Canadian choreographer Jill Johnson has created an affecting 50-minute work, driven by a cumulative repetitive power.
Johnson was a principal dancer with Ballet Frankfurt and a protege of William Forsythe, ballet’s great iconoclast – the pair collaborated for 21 years. And there’s something of the Forsythian “choreographic object” in this piece, presented as an installation. It feels very much like an act of meditation – a moment to reflect on the physical aspect of memory and the bodily ache of loss.
The staging is stark, pared back to just floorspace with seating on all sides and a giant suspended lightbox. As the audience drifts in, the dancers, all in white T-shirts and black trousers, limber up, then start pacing, often in pairs, moving with purpose, pausing, abruptly switching direction, sitting among the audience. Naya Lovell and Aishwarya Raut fall into an opening duet that sets the tone, Raut reaching out as though compelled by the thought of a missing loved one, Lovell slowly dipping and almost placing her cheek on Raut’s outstretched palm, before the pair start mirroring each other’s movements and circling each other with twisted geometries. David Poe’s often eerie alt-folk score sighs and soars like a lament, sometimes embellished by the seated dancers’ rhythmic clapping.
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The piece moves on with various combinations of dancers, all reconfiguring classical rigour. The full cast of 14 breaks out into a thundering run from one side to the other, or, when Poe’s percussion kicks in, follow energetic, uniting group choreography. Two dancers tip another off axis and sweep them across the floor. Six form a straggly row, compulsively grabbing points on their own and each others’ outstretched legs.
All the time there is the sense of touch as a human need, and of searching – the desperate reach, the sweeping arms, hands to hearts, feet stroking the floor, bending and winding like forces under pressure. When the group stills and individual dancers carve solo moments among them, their uniqueness is highlighted: a street dance bounce; a jagged, anxious, juddering vulnerability; a quietly lyrical reflection. But the collective sense of yearning is what stays with you most strongly.
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