Jasmin Vardimon has been one of British dance theatre’s leading lights for a quarter of a century, an Associate Artist of Sadler’s Wells since 2006 and creator of sixteen works for her own company, now based in its own exclusive purpose-built HQ and studios in Ashford, Kent. Amongst her output are some gems that come closer to the German notion of Tanztheater than any other dance made in Britain, such as her murder mystery Justitia (2007) and the social realism of Pinocchio (2016). Yet despite these triumphs and her own inimitable movement style and innovative directorial and choreographic concepts, Vardimon still seems to be somewhat undervalued in the pantheon of modern British dancemakers.
NOW provided an opportunity to set that straight by revisiting some of her past work in a collage of important ideas from that existing repertoire, stirred in with new choreography, design and sound, and all performed by an excellent small ensemble of seven dancers. Over 85 minutes of frenetic activity, this septet were so busy (with countless costume changes, all designed by Teresa Pocas) that there seemed to be many more of them. Incidentally, four of the cast are graduates from Vardimon’s own JV2 programme for pre-professional dancers, which shows an excellent confidence in this training and a consequent healthy rate of upgrade within the JV organisation.
One consistent element of Vardimon’s work is a spectacular visual appeal, assisted by the dramaturgical influence of her long-term partner Guy Bar-Amotz, their combined work on video content, the lighting and projection designs of Andrew Crofts and the animation of Michael Klega. In NOW, this often manifested itself in real-time static camera film taken from the front of stage and projected onto the backdrop. So, for example, a length of rope laid on the stage became a tightrope for dancers to negotiate, or even fall from, when portrayed as a vertical on the backdrop. YouTube has many examples of such events seen from different perspectives, a trick that goes back at least to Fred Astaire’s famous dancing on the ceiling in the film, Royal Wedding (1951) and Lionel Ritchie’s homage to same in his Dancing on the Ceiling pop video from 1986. It might be “old hat” but it’s a concept that works well in live theatre and especially with the high-up excellent sightlines across the new Sadler’s Wells East auditorium. It seems to me that the new theatre is a perfect venue for companies of this size.
Other visuals included some thoughtful use of language. The initial flag-waving protest sequence included the projected statement ACTION – NOW – HERE, a generic slogan we might see in Parliament Square on any day of the week but cleverly morphing the words to give the plaintiff response of ACTION NOWHERE! Later, the question is asked, “What is the best nation?”, with the answer being “ImagiNATION”. These and many other nuances illustrate the constant thoughtfulness and enquiry underpinning Vardimon’s work.
The rope played an ongoing role as a leitmotif, serving several purposes, and a “snowstorm” of thick white flakes provided both a playground for the dancers and a means of creating patterns on the stage through the employment of brooms with wide brush heads.
Vardimon’s versatile choreographic palette engages a similar wide variety of movement. Her dancers traversed the stage, lying down, using their limbs in every leveraging way possible. Evelyn Hart used a large flag to apparently strike Donny Ferris whose wibbly-wobbly responses seemed to turn his body to jelly, illustrating the muscular control from his strong gymnastic background. Every one of the seven personnel was similarly impressive: Risa Maki – a striking Queen of Hearts in Vardimon’s ALiCE – was a powerhouse of movement throughout with a charismatic and commanding presence consistent through all those quickfire costume changes; and Hart had an up-close-and personal, intimate encounter with the audience, speaking to us through close contact with the stage bound camera to appear as an Amazonian presence on the backdrop.
The nature of this composite of greatest hits plus new stuff inevitably created a work full of apparently random episodes, loosely tied together by rope, flags and visual perspicacity, wrapped in a bundle of eclectic music (the score requires no less than 25 credits), much of which I have forgotten but the haunting version of Elvis Presley’s biggest hit It’s Now or Never by Sophia Medina and Alex Kilroy accompanying the wriggling, side-to-side floor-based movement of Hart and her compatriots will stay with me for a long time.
