With countless events related to art, design, cinema, music and other fields, we've just seen another high season for all things culture. Especially in theatre and dance, several consecutive performances at the Aichi Triennale, Kyoto Experiment and Festival/Tokyo made my busy schedule even busier, as I ended up traveling back and forth between Nagoya, Kyoto and Tokyo. As a matter of course, there were some other concurrent events that I unfortunately didn't catch, however among those I attended were a few that left a particularly strong impression.
The first one was "Over The Shoulder" by Antonia Baehr, staged on 9/26 at Aichi Arts Center/ Gallery G. Around a small metronome placed in the center of the square stage, two performers dressed in very similar three-piece suits were moving in a point-symmetric manner. Without exchanging any verbal dialogue, they engaged in exaggerated physical communication that rather resembled a territorial fight between wild animals, or an obtrusive poaching attempt at a singles bar. Only 24 minutes long, it was a short but quite entertaining piece that at some points made me think of the artist duo Gilbert and George, while the aspect of point symmetry reminded me of the four performers' repeated actions around one focal point in Samuel Beckett’s "Quad". The two characters both looked half male and half female, and while the issue of gender is certainly one of the piece’s main subjects, visually this is probably one point on which personal tastes differ.
"Laugh", another piece by Antonia Baehr (10/2 at Aichi Arts Center/ Gallery G), is a solo piece performed by Baehr herself. The artist interprets in an incredibly varied manner several "laugh scores" that she claims to have been given by friends for her birthday. While the piece was supposedly inspired by the idea to create a performance based on precisely defined methods/grammar and a minutely structured vocabulary of vocal and physical expressions, there is something more to it that sets Antonia Baehr apart from other competent artists in the fields of theatre, dance and comedy. Would it be too penetrating a remark to claim that Antonia Baehr distinguishes herself by approaching the anthropological topic of "laughter in western culture" by the anthropological methods of "collection (observation) –> notation (recording) –> reproduction (presentation)"?
Kinoshita Kabuki, "Shunkan" (10/14 at Atelier Gekken, Kyoto). Although the Kyoto-based company has apparently been staging their new interpretations of kabuki since 2006, this was my first opportunity to see them. Totally different from the faded Hanagumi Shibai sort of play that I had expected, what I eventually witnessed seemed like an attempted demythologization via a rather universal reinterpretation of an abstracted kyogen subject. Even though the performance was informed by the spirit of the original material by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, the main focus was on "the women around (the priest) Shunkan", which is perhaps why I felt as if watching some kind of female drama about an absent male protagonist, just like Mishima Yukio’s "Madame de Sade". The mise en scene is reportedly different in each performance. I was particularly impressed by the artistic representation of ocean waves around a solitary island using a single piece of cloth.
Dracom, "Jiken-bo" (10/15 at Kyoto Art Center). This is the new piece by the Osaka-based theatre company that received the Kyoto Art Center Performing Arts Award for "Moreuta" in 2007. I happened to be in the jury at the time, and witnessed a highly stimulating demonstration with pre-recorded dialogues played back in and out of synch with the actors' performance. This time they unveiled a "matricide" themed piece that is based on Aeschylus’s "Oresteia", and a real incident that happened three years ago in Aizuwakamatsu. The story of "Jiken-bo" progresses along a confused time-line, and with a plot that is mostly unclear in the first place. The stylized acting is not so extreme that it would be funny, and the gags run idle without getting to a point. However, when the actress that apparently plays the part of the mother repeats the other actors' Japanese dialogues in their respective English translations – again in and out of synch – the effect plain disarming. Now is the scenery that unfolds in front of the viewer’s eye supposed to mirror the playwright’s dream, or is it a theatrical depiction of an illusion that emanated from the mother’s or son’s mind? It was an absurd play that jumbles logic up to a point where such things become completely irrelevant.
Rosas, "Rosas danst Rosas" (10/26 at Aichi Arts Center/ Mini Theater). The company’s well-known debut piece that was first performed 27 years ago in 1983. Although it was shown in Japan in 1994, I didn't manage to see it at the time. The performance on the first day was reportedly overshadowed by a string of accidents, and while the dancers apparently didn't arrive at Nagoya until the day of the performance, Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker delivered her superb dance with amazing crispness considering her age. The combination of minimal music and sophisticated choreography had on the same elevating effect as a stimulant drug, making it a masterpiece that inspires the viewer to ponder the meaning of dance and the act of dancing – not only in the brain, but with one’s flesh and blood (even though I'm not dancing myself). I wish I'd seen it earlier!
Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, Jérôme Bel and Ictus, "3Abschied" (10/31 at Aichi Arts Center/ Theater). This one, quite in contrast, I didn't find particularly interesting. De Keersmaeker reportedly approached conductor and pianist Daniel Barenboim with the request to assist her with a dance piece based on "Der Abschied" (The Farewell), the last movement in Gustav Mahler’s "Lied von der Erde", whereupon Barenboim flatly rejected explaining, "there exists music in the world that defies choreography." De Keersmaeker and Bel illustrate the creative process, including also the above episode, in three different versions of the "farewell" performed by musicians (Ictus) and a dancer (De Keersmaeker). However the conclusion one eventually arrives at is that Barenboim was right, not least because of De Keersmaeker’s singing (!) at the end. Only the final scene, when chairs are being carried away once the musicians have left the stage, is reminiscent of the great "Café Müller", and therefore suggests a homage (or farewell?) to Pina Bausch. But even that last part didn't help me get rid of the awkward general impression, and left me wondering if we will get to see the piece in a naturally matured form in 27 years from now…
(To be continued)
Ozaki Tetsuya / Editor in chief / REALTOKYO