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Violent
motion, detached reverence: Compagnie Heddy Maalem.
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Forbidden
Rites
By
Lynn Hasselbarth
Compagnie
Heddy Maalem
Jacob’s
Pillow, Becket, Mass., June 25
A new season has begun at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival,
and with it a lineup of provocative and original modern-dance
productions. The opening night of Compagnie Heddy Maalem proved
to be nothing less than original and provocative. To Igor
Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of
Spring), the French-Algerian choreographer Maalem animated
every inch of the body with movement that was dangerous and
unsettling.
A soothing introduction featured the silhouettes of two dancers,
sculpted frames that presided center stage. Set against a
film screen showing rainstorms and swaying palm trees, the
male figure hovered low to the ground, gradually expanding
his limbs and elevating slowly and disjointedly. His transition
to an upright stance was met by the outstretched hand of his
female counterpart. The slow-motion intimacy between the couple
was a necessary contrast to the angst and aggression that
characterized much of the piece.
The full ensemble of 14 dancers emerged in a straight line
across an amber lit stage. The first encounters between the
dancers were full of curiosity and exploration. Bodies fell
out of line, slinking forward as if testing the waters of
the open space. The figures stared, poked, and brushed up
against each other’s skin, a bustling community of social
creatures.
The lights brightened to reveal a stunning group of toned,
glistening bodies against the stark white walls of the stage.
The previously anonymous dancers now began to represent something
more complex, marked by race, history and struggle. With dancers
from six African nations including Mali, Bénin, Sénégal and
Nigeria, the piece blends traditional movement from across
the African continent with original configurations.
The early movements of calm were altered abruptly by a more
seething and intense exchange between the dancers. Arranged
in male-female couples, each pair of bodies began to fidget
rapidly, accelerating into convulsions of the torso and thrusting
hips. This image of collective coitus was strangely asexual,
a robotic, mechanical action. The dancers’ faces were emotionally
unaffected by what seemed to be an exertion of centuries of
pent-up energy.
Exchanges throughout the piece continued to represent sexual
qualites, but were devoid of any sensuality or pleasure. This
made the rare moments of intentional intimacy crucial to the
balance of the piece.
One such excerpt was performed by the female dancers. One
of the most fierce members, who moments before had been the
focal point of physical lust, sat off to the side of the stage,
dejected and alone. She shifted her body weight laboriously,
unable to settle after the rush of adrenaline. Her movements
called for compassion and a need for healing, as she reoriented
herself to her body. She seemed to be recovering from trauma,
as if having just given birth or defended herself against
aggressors.
The response among the other dancers was deeply moving. The
women gradually entered the space and proceeded to cup their
own breasts lightly with each hand. The gesture was maternal,
as the women seemed to honor their fallen sister as she exited
the stage. In her place, the focus shifted to a more fragile
female with delicate features. The women gathered around her,
examining her body and absorbing the fragmented energy of
this stunned isolated figure. The group did not invade her
space, and instead projected a detached reverence.
The male members of the company responded with their own ritual,
reminiscent of a hunting team. The violence of the pursuit
was predictable and recognizable. This more obvious form of
aggression seemed acceptable and a sign of achievement, with
the viewers left to imagine the target or prize.
Combat continued with an exchange between the two genders,
this time less comfortable and bordering on offensive. The
image was potent—each male griping his assigned female’s torso,
elevating her off the ground with her knees bent into her
chest. Her pelvis faced outward and exposed as each man thrust
his face into her womb—a sequence repeated over and over and
over again.
The piece concluded with an impressive male solo that seemed
to mirror the opening scene’s image of an evolving human species.
The body thrashed about in a confined space, as if slowly
gaining circulation, or conversely, suffocating and entering
paralysis. The inability to distinguish between these opposing
forces seemed to define the entire piece. One could not determine
whether progress had been made, or destructive patterns reinforced.
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