Let the Games...er Arts...Begin

Whim W'Him dancers in Alice Klock's "Before/After"
photo courtesy Whim W'Him

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating: one of the biggest gifts Whim W’Him Artistic Director Olivier Wevers brings to Seattle dance fans is the opportunity to see new works by contemporary choreographers from around the world. It’s a gift that keeps on giving.

Last weekend Wevers’ company kicked off its ninth season with its fourth annual ‘Choreographic Shindig,’ a program curated by Whim W’Him’s seven dancers. The three works on the program highlighted the dancers’ technical and artistic range, and they delighted Whim W’Him fans on opening night.

This Choreographic Shindig was bookended by two very kinetic works, each stunning in its own right.

Cameron Birts, kneeling in front of Mia Monteabaro and fellow Whim W'Him company members in Alice Klock's
"Before/After"
photo courtesy Whim W'Him

Alice Klock’s “Before/After” opened the show. It’s a hauntingly evocative dance, enhanced by Michael Mazzola’s lighting design that seems to place the dancers in an undersea world where they tumble and float beneath his watery illumination. I say tumble, because from the get-go, when Karl Watson catapults onto the stage, these dancers energetically propel themselves across the floor: somersaulting, pushing up into handstands with bent knees and flexed feet.

There are also moments of stillness, moments where you feel as if the dancers embody ancient Greek or Egyptian mosaic murals. Whim W'Him newcomer Jane Cracovaner, slightly crouched, holds her arms bent out at the elbows, her hands nearly touching, face angled every so slightly. 

But moments of repose are few in this work, a chance for the dancers to breath before leaping, literally, up from the floor in sequence, each dancer tapping or butting the next into movement. It’s a bit like watching one of those domino lineups, where every tile tilts into its neighbor, causing it to fall down into the next and the next, until all the dominoes are flat on the floor. In this case, though, instead of falling to the floor, the dancers jump up, one by one, in kinetic unison.

Whim W'Him company members in "Welcome to Barrio Ataxia"
photo courtesy Whim W'Him

Omar Roman de Jesus ends the show with the equally kinetic “Welcome to Barrio Ataxia,” a rumination on the physical condition that causes imbalance and muscle tics, among other symptoms.

That sounds grim; “Barrio” is not. The dancers enter to peppy Latin dance music, shimmying and shaking and mouthing the song lyrics. The cheery song gives way abruptly to a slower, more introspective, sound track, and the shimmies evolve into something more deliberate as well: the dancers ooze across the floor, their hands slowly tapping out a rhythm on their upper thighs.

Adrian Hoffman and Jane Cracovaner separate themselves from the collective dance drone, performing a duet that serves as a highly physical counterpoint to the movements that surround them.

For me, though, Cameron Birts’ final solo is this work’s indelible moment. I wish I had a photograph to show you, but that wouldn't capture the magic of the live performance.

Birts is short, with disproportionately long arms for his torso. He’s able to isolate his limbs, imbuing them with independent motion. Have you ever seen those plastic human or animal figures, each limb connected to the other by elastic filaments, the whole figure mounted on a small pedestal? The ones where you press the pedestal and the figure sort of collapses, limbs jangling? Well, Birts can make his human body do something like this, long arms flapping independent of tilting shoulders and undulating lower back. 

Meanwhile, he’s transferring his weight slowly from leg to leg. All of this takes place under a ghostly white, diffuse spot light, while Birts’ fellow dancers slowly move upstage into the shadows.

As I said, indelible.

Equally indelible was the program’s third work, created by Brendan Duggan in collaboration with the dancers.

“Stephanie Knows Some Great People” begins with the house lights on, as Karl Watson mixes drinks for an upcoming house warming. We soon learn that Watson and his partner, Cracovaner, are two of the most pretentious people. They've thrown this party to show off; we see them herd their guests around their new digs, pointing out such highlights as vegan fur drapes and fancy appliances. Oh, and the view! Wow.

The guests are a mixed bag: from Jim Kent’s nerd who can scarcely believe his luck to snare a date with Mia Monteabaro’s gum-cracking hottie, to wonderful Liane Aung, so fizzy and tipsy that her long-suffering date (Birts) literally holds her up. I suppose I could carp on the implications of a drunken woman and the potential for sexual violence. I won't, because that's not the intent behind the imagery.

Karl Watson and Adrian Hoffman in "Stephanie Knows Some Great People"
photo courtesy Whim W'Him

The superficial chatter is smashed all at once when Adrian Hoffman’s odd-man out character boils over in frustration. And when the  mask cracks, we can see the person who hides behind it. Hoffman is actually Watson's alter ego. They move in tandem, not so much mirror images but rather a reminder that things--and people--are not always who they seem to be.

I’m writing this essay several days after seeing "Choreographic Shindig IV", and I can still see so much of the evening in my mind’s eye—always a sign of a successful performance. I love Whim W’Him’s Choreographic Shindigs, and this 4^th installment may be the best one yet. It’s a great way for the company to start a season, and a great unofficial kickoff for the fall arts season.