Cardell commissioned her cousin in Buenos Aries, Daniel Cardell, to make the inflatable hog and then brought it back from Argentina to JFK deflated in a large carton, somehow getting it through customs without a squeal. So pigs do fly, even as it did a bit too early in this production with lift lines hoisting it up into the fly loft.
The work centers on the death and destruction we humans inflict on other animals and, I think, on each other. In style, while Cardell acknowledges her early practice of ballet discipline and growing up seeing tango and folklorico dancing, this work unfolds as a series of episodic installations. The story and ethos it conveys is told more imagistically with media and stage effects than choreographically.
Merián Soto, long a significant dancemaker on Philly’s dance scene, is first on stage. As formidable as any matador when she pulls out her long knives, she later tenderly frees a piglet from its cage, caressing it, only to bring out her knives again at the final scenes.
Soon, the other performers, William Robinson, Mackenzie Morris, Muyu Yuan Ruba, Tyler Rivera, Ty-Crux Jones Blain are dancing, creating Pilobolus-style four, six and eight legged creatures, crawling up the plastic sheets, now shivering with hanging hog carcasses, as if to find their own hook. But mostly they are running, running frantically in circles, fists balled up, hiding behind the scenery or bursting back through it.
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