This site has limited support for your browser. We recommend switching to Edge, Chrome, Safari, or Firefox.

As Night Draws In

Few choreographers made work which endures and resonates like the mighty Pina Bausch. She wasn't just an iconoclastic presence, she created work that still shocks, gets under the skin and into the marrow, and feels so visceral that it is timeless—whether it was through certain nuanced presentations of violence or societal taboos; staging work in unusual locations or bringing older and younger dancers together as twinned iterations of themselves. She stripped back veneers of genteel bourgeois respectability. She got down and dirty, she provoked, teased at larger truths about the human condition, and kept it real. Work was not always created to follow in a linear narrative, sometimes things could just be

“Dancing at Dusk: a moment with Pina Bausch's The Rite of Spring,” directed by Florian Heinzen-Ziob Still by polyphem Filmproduktion

subscribe to the latest in dance


“Uncommonly intelligent, substantial coverage.”

  • Weekly articles from the world of dance
  • Wide diversity of reviews, interviews, articles & more
  • Support for quality art journalism

Already a paid subscriber? Login

This particular version of her celebrated piece, “The Rite of Spring,” was supposed to be touring, until coronavirus sadly, and with terrible timing, got its iron grip on the world.

Filmed during lockdown, then, in Toubab Dialaw, Senegal on the beach in gorgeous golden light by documentary maker Florian Heinzen-Zieb, the wonderful, spring-heeled company of thirty eight dancers, who come from fourteen African countries, recalibrate Bausch's piece through their athleticism, superhuman stamina, and allusions to ritual. Phoenix Dance Theatre's own recent version, created by Jeanguy Saintus, drew links to African voodou, but this time, through amplifying themes and utilising Bausch's ever-shifting physicality, it is made far more implicit.

The opening scene could at first glance feature a sunbather. Only the emerging elegiac movements that we associate with Bausch mark it out as her terrain, with solos which are deeply unsettling. Dressed in characteristic evening wear and bare feet (cream slips for the women, black suit trousers for the men) the prone forms seem half alive/half dead, stately figures juddering to life.But who will be the victim for the sacrifice? The symbolic pink silk is dropped to the sand, and heads are bowed in shame or quiet contemplation, until the entire ensemble splay legs and thrash together. One is picked and pushed aside, but she will not be the final choice.

Such is the paradox in Bausch's work; of push and pull, beauty and decay, violent movement and caressing softness.

Such is the paradox in Bausch's work; of push and pull, beauty and decay, violent movement and caressing softness. The men provide a more chaotic counterpoint to the women's restraint, before the whole company integrate en masse. Spinning and flailing, but always returning back into elegance and light extensions, it becomes almost an anti-ballet, dance of desperation as the women vie for who will be selected through the pink slip to dance to death. A kind of funereal circle is formed, and now the dancers cling together, limpet-like and languid, form a chain, and just as soon implode, as the menacing fanfare of trumpets from Stravinsky's score, contrasting with the gentle lapping of waves, intensifies. The solos are increasingly abrupt and jarring, warrior like.

Dancing at Dusk: a moment with Pina Bausch's The Rite of Spring, directed by Florian Heinzen-Ziob

At times the grouping seems conspiratorial, like a murder of crows. There is something at times not quite of this earth, as the ritualistic nature becomes more clearly delineated. Bodies jerk in small hiccuping fits and starts, moving like an exorcism, purging out poison and demons. Voodou children in adult skin. A pas de deux of discomfort gives way to a spirited, uninhibited bid for freedom, until the chosen one dances her wild dance to the death. The others look on, lurking, observing and marking their time like an advancing army. It feels horribly voyeuristic, like witnessing something wrong, off. In the company's hands it is eerie storytelling: somehow redolent of a child bride being groomed, or the news features about rape camps in war-torn countries. In this sense, this version could have political and feminist implications, a riposte to violence against the female body, and a stark warning from the past to the future.

Lorna Irvine


Based in Glasgow, Lorna was delightfully corrupted by the work of Michael Clark in her early teens, and has never looked back. Passionate about dance, music, and theatre she writes regularly for the List, Across the Arts and Exeunt. She also wrote on dance, drama and whatever particular obsession she had that week for the Shimmy, the Skinny and TLG and has contributed to Mslexia, TYCI and the Vile Blog.

comments

Featured

They Were There
BOOKSHELF | Candice Thompson

They Were There

In her new  biography, The Swans of Harlem, journalist Karen Valby is witness to the testimony of five pioneering Black ballerinas intimate with the founding history of Dance Theatre of Harlem. 

Continue Reading
The Joy of Dance
INTERVIEWS | Victoria Looseleaf

The Joy of Dance

If one wants a glimpse of Joy Womack’s rock-star like schedule, take a look at her Instagram account. One day she might be dancing in Paris—her current home base—another day it’s Florence, then it’s Lagos, Guayaquil, and Melbourne.

Continue Reading
Sundays on Broadway
FEATURES | Cecilia Whalen

Sundays on Broadway

This year marks the tenth anniversary of Cathy Weis' “Sundays on Broadway,” a performance series that welcomes experimentation from a curated group of seasoned and emerging artists hosted intimately in Weis’ SoHo loft. 

FREE ARTICLE
Divas and Devisers
REVIEWS | Faye Arthurs

Divas and Devisers

Though the New York City Ballet’s Spring Gala featured two premieres, the real buzz of the season belonged to the revival of Balanchine’s “Tzigane”—now titled the more politically correct “Errante”—after a 30-year absence. 

Continue Reading
Good Subscription Agency