Tag Archives: Fukiko Takase

AUTOBIOGRAPHY (v95 & v96)

★★★

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviews, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

AUTOBIOGRAPHY (V95 & V96) at Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★

“Autobiography’s saviours are its dancers who are technically talented with unmitigated enthusiasm.”

Self, Life, Writing. The essence of the word Autobiography and a reflection of how Wayne McGregor sees the world, breaking it down to its core components. Autobiography was first performed in 2017 to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Company Wayne McGregor. Conceived in collaboration with the dancers of the company, and inspired by the experiences, influences and ephemera of McGregor’s life, the structure of the piece is then left up to the power of ‘the algorithm’, of which more later. Now some five years or so since it was first performed, in the company’s 30th year, it’s back on stage at Sadler’s Wells, albeit in a slightly different formation.

Chapters of self contained meaning are numbered but performed out of sequence. Only chapters 1 and 23 are positioned at the same point in each performance – at the opening and closing. The significance of 23 is in its relation to the number of pairs of chromosomes in DNA, one of the most basic units of human existence. Serendipitously, 23 is also the age Wayne was when he started the company, adding a further autobiographical significance to the piece. The order in which each audience will experience the chapters is determined by an “algorithm based on McGregor’s genetic code”, dramaturg Uzma Hameed tells us in the programme. This algorithm may also select which dancers take on which roles. The ambitions are lofty and likely technically complex – but altogether opaque and probably unnecessary. A random number generator to choose the sequence would likely do the same job as an algorithm based on the sequencing of McGregor’s DNA.

And in terms of the substance of the performance – it wasn’t easy to like. In fact part way through I wondered whether the choice not to have an interval was to stop people leaving the auditorium never to return.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am always down for a bit of techno music and don’t believe dance should always be aesthetically harmonious. But some of the pieces were really challenging to endure. This was largely due to the, at times deafening, soundtrack by Jlin. Her roots in America’s rust belt are abundantly clear from the pulsating bass and breakbeats, reflecting McGregor’s choreographic style. When more melodic, there are real moments of beauty. But at the point high-pitched screams overlaid the bassline the soundtrack really wore thin.

It wasn’t always saved by the choreography. All solos, duets and trios were interesting and pleasant to watch, notwithstanding the oppressive soundtrack. But some of the pieces featuring the full company lacked cohesion. One piece in particular early on in v95 (likely to appear at a different point in other versions) lacked any unifying motif whatsoever. It appeared like an audition room with each dancer attempting to show their best moves and catch the attention of the casting director. Maybe this was the intention, given the autobiographical nature of the piece, but it felt too simplistic an interpretation for McGregor.

Autobiography’s saviours are its dancers who are technically talented with unmitigated enthusiasm. Only two of the original cast are still part of the company and they are easy to spot. The maturity is evident in Rebecca Bassett-Graham, not just from her fiercely cropped shock of white blonde hair but also from the strength and power portrayed in her movement. There’s also Jordan James Bridge, whose distinctive style stands out in a solo moment. The majority of the company are fresh talent – with just over half having joined in 2023 and all delivering stand out moments. Jasiah Marshall has a particular presence – opening the performance dominating the starkly designed and lit stage (Ben Cullen Williams and Lucy Carter) with broken lines and a chest so puffed it too looked like it might snap.

Autobiography might not be the most enjoyable watch. But as a capsule of the core elements of Wayne McGregor’s practice: a fascination with science and technology; a collaborative approach with his dancers; and a disciplined minimalism to choreography, costume and set, it’s an ambitious yet not self indulgent project.


AUTOBIOGRAPHY (V95 & V96) at Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 12th March 2024

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Andrej Uspenski

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

NELKEN | ★★★★★ | February 2024
LOVETRAIN2020 | ★★★★ | November 2023
ALVIN AILEY AMERICAN DANCE THEATER AT 65 | ★★★★★ | September 2023
DANCE ME | ★★★★★ | February 2023
BREAKIN’ CONVENTION 2021 | ★★★★★ | July 2021
WILD CARD | ★★★★ | June 2021
OVERFLOW | ★★★★★ | May 2021
REUNION | ★★★★★ | May 2021

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

 

The Yellow Wallpaper

The Yellow Wallpaper

★★★

The Coronet Theatre

Reviews, , , , , , ,

THE YELLOW WALLPAPER at The Coronet Theatre

★★★

The Yellow Wallpaper

“Thierrée’s skillset appears to be underused here, and her customary charisma is diluted”

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the ‘rest cure’ was a popular and radical treatment for many mental disorders, particularly hysteria or depression. Later proven to have no benefit at all, it was almost exclusively imposed on women by male physicians. One such practitioner was Dr. Silas Weir Mitchell who treated the American writer, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, for post-natal depression, confining her to bed and banning any type of stimulus including reading, writing, painting or any social contact with the outside world. Yes – you guessed right – this just made matters worse. Fortunately, Gilman was one of the more forward-thinking feminists of the time and, after three months, defied the doctor’s orders, aware of how close she was to a complete mental breakdown. Her experience gave rise to the autobiographical novella “The Yellow Wallpaper”.

With echoes of Edgar Allan Poe, the book was categorised as a work of ‘horror fiction’ while also being hailed as a condemnation of male control in society at the time. The themes might sound dated, but in Stephanie Mohr’s staging at the Coronet Theatre, it strikes fresh chords in an age where ‘gaslighting’ is very much a buzz word. The atmosphere that filters through Gilman’s Gothic book is faithfully recreated. Instead of using the main doors to the auditorium, we are led through a dimly lit room, part nursery, part Hammer film set, the narrator’s disjointed voice leaking out of hidden speakers in the walls.

We next meet the narrator on the stage, in the form of Aurélia Thierrée. A young mother, she is confined in an attic nursery in a remote country mansion by her physician husband. At first resigned to her condition – “what can one do?” she repeatedly asks – she becomes increasingly defiant as her mental stability declines. She becomes obsessed with the wallpaper, eventually seeing a woman trapped within the patterns that she must attempt to set free. Mike Winship’s immersive and all-surrounding sound design is chilling and certainly sets the tone of the piece. While Thierrée prowls the stage, the woman she sees in the wallpaper is represented by dancer and choreographer Fukiko Takase. An extremely clever concept is in play here that confines Takase to the walls of the stage, intermittently breaking free. The effect is unsettling and powerful, reinforcing the allegorical nature of Gilman’s writing.

Ultimately it is Gilman’s text that drives the piece – which is a shame. I last saw Aurélia Thierrée at the Coronet just before lockdown in the stunningly mesmerising and dreamlike “Bells and Spells” in which she starred. Expectations are naturally high, but Thierrée’s skillset appears to be underused here, and her customary charisma is diluted, perhaps by these very expectations. A grandmaster of dance, cabaret, circus and magic, she is confined by the sole medium of the spoken word she is given. She does manage to depict, quite exceptionally, the sense of claustrophobia and disintegration, but the piece lacks the ‘Aurélian’ stamp we would hope for from this collaboration.

The production remains strong throughout, and undeniably atmospheric. But rather than hypnotic it occasionally veers towards the soporific. The concept is ingenious, the staging remarkable and the setting extraordinary. But there’s something ultimately unconvincing in the delivery that papers over the true essence of what this show could be.


THE YELLOW WALLPAPER at The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed on 26th September 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Hugo Glendinning

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Rhythm Of Human | ★★★★★ | September 2023
Lovefool | ★★★★ | May 2023
Dance Of Death | ★★★★★ | March 2023
When We Dead Awaken | ★★★★ | March 2022
Le Petit Chaperon Rouge | ★★★★ | November 2021

The Yellow Wallpaper

The Yellow Wallpaper

Click here to read all our latest reviews