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Theater of Movement


Article # : 20160 

Section : THE ARTS
Issue Date : 1 / 1992  1,283 Words
Author : Gary Parks
Gary Parks is the news editor of Dance Magazine.

       At the beginning of Stella, the work that Flemish choreographer Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker took on tour across the United States last fall, an angry young women bursts onstage and starts to harangue the audience--in Japanese. Though she's dressed in a black suit and high heels, it doesn't sound as though the woman (Fumiyo Ikeda) is disputing trade tariffs or the exchange rate. This woman is hysterical, screeching at the top of her lungs; she's so irate, she spits at the audience.
       
        This was quite a change for the American audiences who knew de Keersmaeker primarily for the charged Minimalism of her early work, Rosas danst Rosas. It seemed as though de Keersmaeker had succumbed to the European dance-theater cliché of sour confrontation. Losing her in that clutter would have been especially hard, as de Keersmaeker is one of the best young European choreographers--more interested in making dances than in loading up the stage with enigmatic props.
       
        But de Keersmaeker has lost none of her choreographic power. Supplanting Ikeda's tirade, another dancer (Marion Levy) rushes onstage to execute a very fast solo, full of swivel-knee jumps and sly stares at the audience. Then three other women follow her, elaborating on her solo or delivering de Keersmaker's choreographic comments on it.
       
        It's muscle-wrenching dance for the company, known as Rosas, even though the women are strutting, showing off, flaunting what used to be called their wares. This action accelerates, sending the dancers across an array of wooden platforms that are difficult to navigate in their high heels (the women in the audience nod in weary understanding, just as some of the men suddenly realize how hard it is merely to walk down the street in those seductive shoes). Finally, one dancer (Johanne Saunier) falls off a platform, her tumble so realistic that many in the audience gasp. Crying, she immediately joins the others in a passage of rolling on the floor. Did she mean to fall off, or was there an accident? It's hard to say. The performer knows, but those of us in the audience aren't sure. And halfway through the dance, when those metronomes start ticking away at different speeds, it's difficult to tell what's being measured. Is time being counted down or up?
       
        Throughout Stella, de Keersmaeker sets passages in which you think you know what's going on--like the women primping--as well as other sections devoid of any literal interpretation--like the one in which Carlotta Sagna slowly slips from stool to stool while trying to keep herself wrapped in a towel. (It turns
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