Oh, oh, oh, I am thrilled to have found this on Youtube. Sylvie Guillem choreographed by the clever Russell Maliphant in “PUSH”. This is part two, “Rise and Fall”. A couple of years ago, I managed to see Guillem dance this, having heard that I really must see it. I am so glad I did, as it is the most hypnotic stage performance I have ever seen.
The joint-other-most-hypnotic was Rocio Molina who is like watching a very precise explosion happen. Look, here she is, doing precision Flamenco while smoking a fag, eff eff ess. I saw her in Tres Mujeres, in which she did a dance where she turned into a fricking bull, and however English you were, you started to feel yourself kind of … inhabit her while she danced. The best dance does this. You can see people start to make involuntary movements, inch forward on their seat. They aren’t in their own bodies any more, they are the dancer. The best dance is arranged in such a way that it feels you could step into it, you know it, because there is nothing false about it.
Actually, all the best art is like that. Written, painted, filmed, danced. Whatever.
Guillem’s movement goes from small and slow in the beginning to incredibly fast and big at the end. The light always illuminates the most dynamic part of the dance, and with the same intensity as the movement, so it starts in a narrow box shining directly, but not brightly, down on her. By the end she is dancing at great speed and her body is in blackness – just her flying hands and feet are illuminated brilliantly at their furthest reach, moving in impossible arcs, and yet in a pattern which, by then, you understand.
I wish they hadn’t used different camera angles when filming this. The repetitive, progressing logic of the dance (Maliphant’s trademark, as far as I’m concerned), is lost when you see it from different angles. You need to see this while being utterly still, in utter darkness, and to sit in the theatre thinking “Ohhhkayyy … um…” for about the first four minutes, before becoming possessed by the astonishing thing it turns into.
The audience went fucking BONKERS when the lights clicked off the end.
This is why I don’t dance at parties. That ain’t dancing, sucka, any more than a Sun article is “writing”. This is dancing.