Pagrav Dance Company HATS
Solu Helsinki SOLmU-Cell
Air Punch The Gaze
This oddly assorted triptych led to very different tributaries of expressiveness, opening with the purity of a refined classical dance technique; then into a free-flowing contemporary duet before ending in the stagnant waters of wholly inaccessible dance theatre.
Some magical Kathak elegance was conjured out of the smoke and mirror that set the stage for HATS, an epic solo by Urja Desai Thakore. Her frequent changes of mood and pace continually enlivened a work that remained inspiring, both in terms of the rigidity of her technique and the grace with which it was applied. After almost half an hour of continual dance this charming performer remained the coolest person in the theatre.
Two blondes from Helsinki stepped away from the regimen of a classical technique to deliver a futuristic duet. These women in white (tunics, leggings and bandages) merged four distinct movements with the cityscape sounds of passing traffic and clanging metal, opening with a section of movement in tandem, like a pair of spoons, before changing into faun-like creatures, heads inquisitively reacting to every passing noise. Although a long way from the classical form of Kathak, Karolina Ginman & Marja Koponen showed a similar elegance in the freer style of a thoroughly modern work.
Possibly the best moment in The Gaze came with the lyrics of the song No Bra by Munchhausen; I particularly remember ‘Ethiopians are like Germans dipped in Chocolate!' It had an eclectic musical score and some interesting unisex tunics (designed by Jude Bird) but the declared concept of exploring deviant sexual identity bore no relation to disconnected episodes of toe-flexing, disco dancing and an aggressive male duet. The only interesting moments of choreography came when three girls treated a boy like a life-sized plastic doll, bending his limbs and body into every conceivable shape, but like the whole affair, this sequence was distinctly overlong. I would have swapped it readily for just one more moment of magic from Urja Desai Thakore.
Graham Watts
Urja Desai Thakore is a fluid and vivid performer both in her range of facial expression and her poetic hand gestures. Throughout HATS she is constantly drawn back to the hanging golden frame which could equally represent a gateway to the past or a reflection of the present. We see glimpses of the different guises of the contemporary woman; mother, lover and her own self, and the tensions that exist between them. At one point, Thakore stands with her arms dropping at her sides like a pair of scales needing to be balanced. All the while she is driven on by the rhythms of Hiren Chate's tabla, never missing a beat.
Moving perfectly in tandem, Ginman and Koponen step gently yet warily, their bodies pressed together as one breathing mass. They lift one another in turns across the stage, wrapping themselves around the other's contours. Suddenly, they draw apart and are reptile-like in their frantic alertness, momentarily pausing at each new sound. Then, they stare fixedly into the each other's eyes as if conscious of their other self for the first time. As the soundscape grows to a cacophonic climax, one lies on her side, legs franticly peddling but going nowhere; the other gathers herself together, knees to chest. Into the gathering silence they are reunited; these are two performers that are impressive when apart but mesmerizing when together.
The evening takes a somewhat less subtle turn, as the five-strong Air Punch explore sexual identity in its more ‘deviant' forms. Two men perform a macho duet, shoving, slapping and even biting in a boyish bid to out do the other. Three women humorously exhibit their somewhat unglamorous powers of seduction. Later they manipulate one of the men in a series of erotic gestures; their school-girl pranks are amusing at first but become rather drawn-out. This is the overall impression of the work; there are moments of humour but it needs development.
Katie Fish