Full Moon Fever at Brooklyn Academy of Music
Pina Bausch Strikes Gold Again
By: Ken Ross - Oct 04, 2010
I want to live in Pina Bausch's world.
People play there. They flirt. They joke. They drink wine. They laugh. The women all wear evening gowns and have long, flowing hair. And they dance. God, do they dance.
There's something otherworldly about seeing a Pina Bausch dance performance. And they did not disappoint recently when I saw Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch perform "Vollmond" (Full Moon) at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on Friday. They simply reminded me they stand alone in the world of dance theater. No other group is like them or likely ever will be, especially now sadly that Pina passed away suddenly last summer. Watching them, I honestly felt a tinge of sadness, wondering just how much longer we'll be able to see this amazing group perform in the future. (You can catch them, by the way, at BAM through Sat., Oct. 9.)
The dancers in "Vollmond" seem like they just stepped out of a dream and onto the stage. Or the stage feels like a dream come to life. Nothing seems real and yet the dancer's movements and emotions and interactions with each other are firmly grounded in reality. This is no space-age, special effects extravaganza. This is a pure passion play with lots of movement and very little words.
Those words uttered on stage can seem unusual to dance fans accustomed to taking their dance shows neat, no dialogue, please. Often, I simply prefer my dancers to simply dance. But that's mainly because most choreographers don't write as well as Pina Bausch. She's smart to not try to write literal, dramatic lines for her dancers. She instead occasionally has her dancers utter one or two lines, often for comic relief. You cannot underestimate Bausch's sense of humor or her comic timing. For all the seriousness her legions of fans devote to dissecting her dances, there's a playfulness and child-like quality to her choreography. One dancer in "Vollmond" says the throwaway line with the punch line saved for the last word: "All of the languages I know I learned in bed."
Bausch's dancers can also pull off saying these lines because many of them are great actors. There's a reason why the phrase theater is included in the name of the company. And that's important to remember when watching Bausch's work. It's not simply a dance performance. And it's not exactly a theater work either. Bausch's work exists in a sort of ethereal place that lies somewhere between the two.
I will never, ever forget seeing her group perform "For the Children of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow" at BAM in 2004. That matinee performance remains permanently etched in my mind and stands out as one of the greatest dance performances I have ever seen in my life. I've seen Bausch's group two more times since then, only because they have only performed in New York twice since then. (Most of her works are also not available on video, although the beginning and the end of Pedro Almodovar's film, "Talk to Her," features the dancing of Pina Bausch. There's also some good clips of Bausch's dances available on YouTube, including an amazing interview with Bausch and a thrilling 6 minute, 41 second excerpt of "Cafe Muller." Luckily for us, acclaimed-film maker Wim Wenders will release a feature-length movie next year about Pina Bausch and her dance company. And get this. The movie will be in 3D!)
"For the Children" remains my favorite Bausch piece that I have personally seen live. A close second is "Vollmond," which ranks as one of best dance works ever created. Like several of Bausch's other pieces, "Vollmond" starts with simple everyday movements. In this case, two men appear to be shaking out two plastic water bottles to make sure they are empty. The bottles whip through the air and make a whooshing sound. Then another man joins them with two long, thin wooden sticks, whipping them in the air as well and making a similar whooshing sound. Bausch seems to be drawing a similarity between the two activities based on the sound they make. Or maybe not. If you think too logically about Pina's dances - or many dance performances in general - you might miss out on the mystery and other worldly quality to them.
Two men then take turns dropping rocks over each other's head. Just as the rock is about to hit one of them, they quickly roll to the side and rock slams against the stage. They repeat this activity over and over, faster it seems at times. The possibility of the rock actually hitting one of them feels real. Bausch's dances have often contained a hint of violence in them. Sometimes, even more than a hint, especially in her works from the 1970s and 80s. The New Yorker's former dance critic Arlene Croce once criticized Bausch by describing her as a "theatre terrorist" and one of her works as "pornography of pain." I wouldn't be surprised if Bausch took the terrorist comment as a compliment. Bausch spent her career smashing down the walls of what was considered acceptable on stage. Often, the violence in Bausch's work flows effortlessly into passionate expressions of love. In "Vollmond," a man violently shakes a woman, then passionately kisses her. She does not fight him. Rather, she waits patiently for him to do it again. Bausch's radical ideas about love and passion and pain made her a lightening rod sometimes. But they also attracted legions of fans and inspired a generation of choreographers, artists and some of our best movie directors. Bausch seemed to instinctually understand that all passion comes from the same place. Whether it's channeled into good or bad actions all depends on the person tapping into this powerful well of emotions.
Next thing we know, these seemingly straightforward, everyday movements in "Vollmond" give way to sensuous, athletic dancing. And we know there's something more, something bigger to come because of the massive boulder planted firmly on the stage. That boulder serves almost as another performer in "Vollmond." The dancers climb across the boulder. They lay on it, thrash around it. In a way, the rock seems to be a symbol for everything that is large and unmovable in our lives.
And just when you think Bausch has taken the dance as far as it will go, she takes everything up a notch by adding a rainstorm to "Vollmond." That same day, several inches of rain fell on New York and across the Northeast. But being in an actual rainstorm and watching on one stage as dancers dart around and slide through the water are two totally difference experiences. Real rain can be soothing or menacing. The rain storm in "Vollmond" felt like I had just crawled into the deepest level of Bausch's subconscious.
All that rain and water in "Vollmond" adds an electric, erotic quality to the dance. One scene in particular features a woman violently dancing around by herself as several men repeatedly throw one large bucket of water after another at the large rock on stage. Watching the dance, I felt as though I were watching someone's dream about waves crashing against a rocky coastline while a woman dances on a beach on a dark and stormy night. That might sound silly reading about it. But sitting in the audience, I felt as if I had just sneaked behind a hidden doorway into a magical world I didn't even know existed. The feeling was electric. The solo also reminded me of excerpts I've seen of Bausch's radical, primeval interpretation of "The Rite of Spring."
Another thing that makes Bausch's dances so great is her choice of music. "Vollmond" is actually the only work I know of that you can buy the music for on a single disc. I've been listening to the music for years. Seeing the dancers dance to this music was a rare, delightful treat. And what makes Bausch's choreography so great is she never goes for the obvious movement for a particular song. But once we see Bausch's dancers dance a certain way to a particular song, we can't imagine anyone dancing any other way to the music. That's part of the power of her choreography. It just feels right.
I talked to someone the next day who said he didn't like "Vollmond" because there wasn't enough dancing. I can understand maybe why someone might say that. But it all depends on what is your definition of dancing. Like Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire, Bausch's dancers are so graceful, they make simply walking across the stage seem sensuous or magical. Then again, Pina's dreams are the dreams I can only dream would flow through my mind every night I fall asleep.