Umwelt? Um...what?

What do you get when you mix nine dancers, mirrors, enough props to fill “It’s a Small World,” and industrial-strength fans?  Compagnie Maguy Marin’s “Umwelt” at the Joyce Theater. 

After much poking and prodding from a certain blonde haired cultural attaché, I peeled myself away from bed yesterday for a dose of experimental dance theater. The audience at the Joyce was scattered with people as diverse as Gia Kourlas and Baryshnikov, demonstrating a clear interest in the company, yet I still maintained a twinge of doubt. 

The program notes on the French company contained a statement about exhausting the potentials of our construction of the world, and as I stared at the stage I wondered how this idea would be accomplished.  Before I was able to wrap my head around the wordy passage (which used Samuel Beckett as a reference), the lights dimmed and we were thrown into a vortex of endless movement and noise. 

As dancers emerged from behind three rows of mirrors to stare out at the audience, it was clear that “dance” in the sense that I am accustomed to had gone into hiding for the day. Spools on either side of the stage started turning, running a string over a trio of guitars resting at the front of the stage.  The speaker system pulsed as the strings were scratched; it was a sound that felt like an ocean of noise spilling into your ears, and one that I trusted would end momentarily. 

Ten minutes later, the sound continued, only now there were industrial strength fans blowing the performers in a hypnotizing series of circles around the mirrors.  In groups of three or four, they slowly walked around a row and went back into hiding again.  Each time they emerged they were dressed differently: wedding dresses, overalls, no pants, no clothes, etc.  Props were tossed through the air: baby dolls, sandwiches, posters of dogs, apples; for a moment I became confused as to whether I was watching a redundant dance theater piece, or an ad for the latest discounts at Wal-Mart.  They seemed to represent various facets of everyday life, but I kept waiting for the moment where they would break out. 

It wasn’t until thirty-five minutes into the program that I realized this was all they were going to do and the program note about exhausting possibilities took on a whole new meaning.    During the final twenty-five minutes, the repetition continued, as props and costumes made several dozen appearances each.  Occasionally the dancers would throw (or spit), a prop to the untouched downstage portion of the stage, eventually leading it to become a veritable junk heap.  The cyclical nature of the staging was broken every ten minutes or so by a performer emerging solo and staring at the audience with a self-important glare so powerful it dimmed the lights (do they have Carrie’s telekinetic powers?). 

I felt so worn out by the noise and the movement that when the blackout signaling the end of the show finally came (and not a moment too soon) I could barely bring my hands together to clap.  Bravos were tossed around, and my jaw dropped an inch closer to the floor.  Finally, I scooped it up and emerged in the daylight of 8th avenue to discuss what had just happened.

As is often the case with experimental theater, the discussion following was more intriguing than the piece itself.  The reality is that not all art must be beautiful, or even enjoyable, to sit through, but there must be something to grasp onto.  What I found with “Umwelt” was that it felt empty.  Having read the Gia Kourlas interview with Ms. Marin in Time Out NY, I was left with the notion that listening to an artist talk about there work is often times more intriguing than the work itself.   In the magazine, the choreographer discusses how people were outraged after the initial performances in France.  This inevitably led to it being labeled as “controversial.”  But I can’t help but wonder, at what point is “controversial” a euphemism for “bad”? 

Comments

[A Little Tea or Something]

Right on about that final sentiment. I once went to an "art" movie and was seated among people who were (I thought) more intelligent and sophisticated than myself. At one point the movie just stopped; the screen went black. People began to speculate on the deeper meaning of that; what was the director trying to say? And on and on. Then the theatre manager came out and apologized to the audience; the film had broken and repairs were being made. (Hee Hee.) I can't get my arms around things that are not real. "Bad," though, is indeed real. Sorry you had to sit through that!!!

[Meg]

I think it's a great thing for art to engender conversation, of course. But I also think that if the conversation is the only interesting part then that's a problem. And if listening to the artist talk is more intriguing than the work itself than that's even more problematic. If the art needs constant explanation and exposition from the artist to give it meaning then it's not really doing much in and of itself is it?

[M]

Exactly Meg. When David and I were discussing, I talked about the idea of uncomfortable, but worthwhile art by my favorite art movement: Abstract Expressionism. To me, it is often unpleasant from a visual standpoint, but worthwhile to get lost in and explore with discussion and introspection. This on the other hand, was loud, abrasive, and unpleasant without the redeeming discovery afterward.

I get most discouraged when I read an interview with someone who can articulate their idea well, but seems to have lost the vision in the translation from thought to reality.

[Cindy]

I have two words for that sort of "experimental" art.... pretentious crap.

[Allison]

I went to this with my mom (oh, dear) and we both had the same reaction as you did (do I applaud?). I was trying so hard to be open minded, but I have a hard time enjoying anything that makes me wonder, "Is this dance?" "What is dance?" and so on. The other two performances I saw this spring at the Joyce were both of MOMIX's shows (Passion and Lunar Sea) and both were terrible. I've always had such high regard for the Joyce and was willing to try out anything it hosted, but after seeing THREE shows there that all barely qualified as dance, I'm going to be much more cautious about spending time there.

[CJ]

I saw this piece and thought the appropriate word to describe it was "excruciating." I hated it, but felt that part of the reason I hated it was its depressing aptness. Ugh. Things like this recall a line from The Unbearable Lightness of Being, referring to "the uglification of the world." The piece mimics what it excoriates. I'll be glad to go to La Bayadere tonight.

[A Little Tea or Something]

This is neither here nor there, but had to comment on CJ's comment: The Unbearable Lightness of Being was the very movie I was watching when the film broke (see comment #1)!