Radiant (Variant), by Holly Small, John Oswald and Emile Morin,an adaption which didn't include the complete staging of moving scrims
and projections (hence the 'variant' in the title) premiered in Toronto
during the Easter weekend. Here's a review:
The supreme
craftsmanship of Small's mesmerizing Radiant shows the full weight of
her wisdom and experience. Known as a collaborative choreographer, she
has surrounded herself with a gilded creative team.
Her dancers
are some of the best in the country - Johanna Bergfelt, Michael
Caldwell, Keiko Kitano, Louis Laberge-Côté, Rebecca Mendoza and Jessica
Runge. Inseparable from the movement are John Oswald's music and
images, Emile Morin's scenography, Lionel Arnould's videography, Pierre
Lavoie's lighting, Katharine Mallinson's Japanese-inspired costumes,
and seven brass players (two trumpets, four trombones and a flugelhorn).
Everything
about the piece is brilliantly thought through, and Small takes her
time in the unfolding. The musicians are positioned in the surrounding
upper galleries, where their ethereal, almost melancholy chords seem to
come from the heavens. The stage itself has a cunning array of
transparent panels upon which the projections play.
Small's
world is one of fragile beauty and mystery. From the first burst of
radiant light that reveals still bodies on the ground, to expressive
movement bathed in luscious shadows, to the last image of a mummy-like
Kitano undulating gently as she unwraps a long piece of drapery from
her body, Small takes the audience through scenes that conjure up a
myriad of ideas.
One sees everything from medieval images of
cloaked death, to Zen-like samurai warriors, to hovering ghosts
searching for peace and spirits who have found it, to new life arising
from the ashes of the old. The movement itself is simple - sculptured
poses, circle dances and parades - but the dancers must exercise
exquisite control. Nothing must jar in this other world on the edge of
memory.
And always, there are the ever-changing projections of
an indistinct body, sometimes a corpse, sometimes a newly born being,
wrapped in diaphanous material and floating in space. The piece is
built around the play between the images on the screen and the live
dancers on the stage. A secondary layer is the music score, at once
mournful and tranquil, set against the breathing of the dancers, which
is both laboured and joyous.
This is the rich dichotomy of Radiant, where birth and death are interchangeable yet seductive images.
Paula Citron,
Globe and Mail April 11, 2009