When a dance company is completely bound up in the imagery of the person it is named for, what is to be done when he or she is no longer there to create new images? The Merce Cunningham Dance Company came to an orderly and planned full stop in the third year after Merce’s death; but, the companies of Marie Rambert, Martha Graham and José Limón – to name just three – are continuing, decades after their founders shuffled off this mortal coil.
If I may continue that literary association, “To be, or not to be” is the question that must confront those who are left behind and in the case of Pina Bausch’s sudden death, the decision of her close-knit collaborators (coming off stage in Poland when they heard the shocking news, almost ten years ago), was to continue performing her work, which they have been doing to laudable effect, ever since (in spite of a flurry of changes in the artistic leadership of the company over the past decade).
This piece by Dimitris Papaioannou (the first of a pair in an eleven-day season at Sadler’s Wells, to be followed by Alan Lucien Øyen’s Bon Voyage, Bob…) represents a seismic shift in policy. The first new full-length works to be made on the company since Pina’s passing and the first to be made (or, to be strictly accurate, led) by anyone other than Bausch herself.
Papaioannou’s Since she straddles the chasm between being an homage to the much-loved territory of Bausch while crossing over into new landscapes but, somehow, it lacks the holism and intrinsic style that I have come to appreciate in the best of Tanztheater Wuppertal’s Bausch collection. Papaioannou presents striking moments of beauty and wonder but these are studded within a cluttered and confusing environment.
Let me take humour as an example. It is deeply inherent to this company’s work and, occasionally, subtle, comedic heights were reached. The long opening sequence of sixteen elegantly-dressed performers building a bridge of chairs to take them across the stage concluded with one chair being placed behind the final guy, and out of his reach. His “look” combining desperation, annoyance and helplessness - all conveyed in a fleeting second - was comedy gold. Other moments brought humour served up (in one case, literally) as a shock tactic, smeared onto the performance with a very broad trowel.
Tina Tzoka’s set design was suitably monumental, evoking imagery of Péter Pabst’s remarkable sets for Bausch’s World Cities series, with piles of roughly-stacked, mattress-sized objects upstage (akin to a wall of dilapidated, old-style, school gym mats). This was a hill of sorts in which a tree, complete with root ball, was planted and removed and up and down which dancers (both naked and clothed) climbed and slithered. The traditional costume predilection with slinky evening wear and high heels spilled over from the past to the present, although the device of brushing a fabric to turn sequins from black to gold and back again was overused.