“Just immerse your ears in spellbinding words and music, and feast your eyes on the kaleidoscope of images that unfold before you”
Dance Me, a choreographic tribute to the words and music of the late, great Leonard Cohen, might seem an incongruous project for the Ballets Jazz Montreal. There’s the obvious Montreal connection, of course. Both were born there. But it’s a daring move on the part of director and dramaturg Eric Jean to choose to create an evening of dance around the work of an artist like Cohen, whose words and music demand your full attention. But then, both Ballets Jazz Montreal and Leonard Cohen like to defy expectation, I suspect.
Cohen died in 2016, well known and loved. As he himself wryly recognized, he could look forward to “a huge posthumous career”. Dance Me certainly falls into that category. It’s not just a sense of shared roots that brings Ballet Jazz Montreal and Leonard Cohen together though. Cohen’s work reveals the influences from many cultures, both literary, philosophical and spiritual, just as the Ballet Jazz Montreal reveals its multicultural influences in the fluid, yet muscular; surreal yet gymnastic, movements of its work. This unlikely match, then, produces a fusion of blunt physicality that merges seamlessly with Cohen’s powerful emotions. The irony is there as well. Something Cohen himself seems to have recognized, as he gave this project his blessing before he died.
The title of the show, Dance Me, comes from Dance Me To The End Of Love, a perennial favourite of fans. But the show does not launch into an energetic attention getter of Cohen’s greatest hits. Dance Me begins quietly, in darkness, with spoken words from an early poem, Prayer for the Messiah. With a mood established that is completely Leonard Cohen, the dance begins. Choreographers Adonis Foniadakis, Ihsan Rustem and Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, weave together a sinuous evening from meditative beginnings. The choreography of Dance Me evokes both Cohen’s distinctive gritty voice and the unabashed mix of spirituality and eroticism that characterizes his work. Dancers Yosmell Calderon Mejias, Alyssa Allen, Gustavo Barros, John Canfield, Diana Cedeno, Astrid Dangeard, Hannah Kate Galbraith, Shanna Irwin, Ausia Jones, Jordan Lang, Austin Lichty, Marcel Mejia, Andrew Mikhaiel and Eden Solomon bring a variety of looks to the line up, whether part of solos, duets, trios or more. The choreography allows them by turn to heighten the depth of feeling so recognizable in Cohen’s art.
All Cohen’s best known poems are there, including Suzanne, Boogie Street, Dance Me To The End Of Love, Everybody Knows, A Thousand Kisses Deep, and the iconic Hallelujah. Dance Me is a celebration of words, music and dance, but it’s also a celebration of light and darkness. The lighting (designed by Cédric Delorme-Bouchard and Simon Beetschen) is an integral part of the show, and under the direction of Eric Jean, moves to its own precise choreography. It illuminates the dancers in constantly changing, dramatic pools of light. Video design from the HUB Studio projects Cohen like figures on stage. The shape of the man as well as his instantly recognizable sound, are all there, echoed as well in the costumes of the dancers (designed by Philippe Dubuc).
Dance Me is a great evening out at Sadler’s Wells. It’s no accident that it’s been scheduled so closely to Valentine’s Day. So by all means take your beloved out for a special date night. But, single or partnered, take Dance Me as an opportunity to forget the weight of expectation. Just immerse your ears in spellbinding words and music, and feast your eyes on the kaleidoscope of images that unfold before you. You’ll come away with an added appreciation for how very different kinds of art can be combined to reinforce the other. And if you’ve had the forethought to upload Cohen’s poems on your Kindle before leaving for Sadler’s Wells, you’ll be able to maintain the mood for the journey home.
“an intriguing mix of gifted improvisers and some still learning their craft”
The Free Association Improv Company is well named. Its latest offering, 666 Hell Lane, is an illuminating example of the company’s particular style of work. Staged in the appropriately named Crypt space at the VAULTS, Free Association present sixty minutes of “comedy horror”. The performance style is a low key kind of humour, filled with lots of references to contemporary movies, movie stars, and classic horror genres. But if you’re expecting to be scared out of your seats, or left aching with laughter, 666 Hell Lane will leave you, ultimately, a tad underwhelmed.
There’s still plenty to appreciate in Free Association’s work, however. The company is committed. There are several talented improvisers in the team. So what’s 666, Hell Lane about? On this particular evening, it’s about two start up creators who have lost their way in a forbidding forest in the middle of the night. It’s only a matter of time before they see a light among the trees, and find a creepy hotel presided over by a creepy host. Sound familiar? Yes, said host looks faintly reminiscent of Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Show. Sadly, there is no Frank ’n Furter to accompany him, but there are a lot of jokes about Rupert Grint. Either the Harry Potter star is a friend of the company, or else he is desperate for some publicity. And some work. But I digress. Seriously, 666 Hell Lane is all about digressions.
So let’s just back up a moment. Why have the heroes of this particular evening’s horror story, Bash and Crash, lost their way? Well, that’s how each Free Association show begins. The audience is asked to provide a question as a jumping off point for the evening’s comedy/horror story. The company take the question, “free associate” from scene to scene, until, eventually, many shaggy dog stories later, some sort of a conclusion is reached. On this particular evening, the audience asked “Why am I here?” It’s a nightmare question, really, and it says much for the performers that they took that on board, in the ironic spirit intended, and ran all over the set with it. A tortuous tale of disappearing diners emerged, complete with bumbling policemen, neighbourhood comedians desperate to deliver punchlines if not narrative coherence, zombies, and “genre hopping.” Every so often the audience would find themselves in yet another narrative space, and the diner would make a shift back to the hotel, or a video rental store, for example. (Do we still have those?) The contemporary culture jokes would then get a work out. Yep, these guys are pretty slick with all their self-referential irony. Hence all the Rupert Grint jokes, one presumes. And for some reason, Cate Blanchett’s Tàr came in for a lot of heavy hitting.
666, Hell Lane is not the worst way to spend 60 minutes, even if trains rumble loudly overhead every so often, and drown out the dialogue. You might miss a few essential plot points in that particular scene, but rest assured that if the cast gets into narrative trouble, there is always another performer waiting in the background to tap a shoulder, and get stuck into taking the story in yet another seemingly random direction. Performers Alex Holland, Graham Dickson, Alison Thea-Skot, Mariam Haque, Kiran Benawra, Luke Healy, Kat Bond and Laura Riseborough are an intriguing mix of gifted improvisers and some still learning their craft. At its best, free association is this company’s super power. But they could still use a more energetic presentation if they wish to use this American performance style and make it their own.
