Dance Hall

Have they started or are they just practicing?” asks a gentleman sitting in the row behind me. It’s a fair question: students from Rambert School of Ballet nonchalantly execute their own sequences of repeated movements as the audience filters in, taking their seats on all four sides of the vast performance space. Accompanied by jolly live piano, their motions range from traditionally balletic—whipping chainé turns and pointed feet beating at ankles—to the geometric and contemporary—popped heels and off-kilter leans. Wearing a gym-kit-like combination of burgundy football shorts and light pink vest tops, the dancers look as if they could be in class or rehearsal, perfecting movements they will need to execute in the performance to come.

Performance

Pam Tanowitz Dance and Rambert School of Ballet and Contemporary Dance Students: “Neither Drums nor Trumpets” by Pam Tanowitz

Place

Paul Hamlyn Hall, Royal Opera House, London, United Kingdom, March 25, 2025

Words

Emily May

Pam Tanowitz Dance in “Neither Drums nor Trumpets” by Pam Tanowitz. Photograph by Alice Pennefather

This is “Neither Drums Nor Trumpets,” critically-acclaimed American choreographer Pam Tanowitz’s contribution to Dance Reflections festival by Van Cleef and Arpels, which ran in London for a month from mid-March. Created specifically for the Royal Ballet and Opera’s Paul Hamlyn Hall, which has a long, varied history as everything from a flower market to a storage space, this new work strives to create an unusual “contemporary collage” of “performing rituals and codified techniques.”

It does exactly that. Shortly after the Rambert students’ informal opening, they snap into tight triangular phalanxes, executing tendus and toe taps with military precision. Their regimentation is soon disturbed, however, by Tanowitz’s professional company, who, dressed in a mixture of vibrant patterned jumpsuits, surge through space with greater freedom and individuality than their younger counterparts. Accompanied by a score of music by Caroline Shaw as well as Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony No.6, like in the work’s opening, they pepper classical ballet steps with quirky gestures, flopping their wrists, flexing their feet, and circling their arms backward as if swimming. There are allusions to many different dance styles: folk-like skips followed by jazzy step-ball-changes and angular, Merce Cunningham-esque balances.

Extensive eclectic references in a dance work can feel disjointed or incongruous, yet in Tanowitz’s hands, they’re expertly woven together. Over the course of “Neither Drums Nor Trumpets,” certain styles become more or less prominent, as if the choreographer is experimenting with the balance of different genres. DJ-like, she dials up the percentage of one or another to find a perfect equilibrium.

Lindsey Jones and Anson Zwingelberg in Pam Tanowitz's “Neither Drums Nor Trumpets.” Photograph by Alice Pennefather

The nuts and bolts of Tanowitz’s choreographic process are further exposed by the scan of a page from her choreographic notebook left on every seat at the start of the show: A floor plan scribbled over with dynamic arrows, lines and circles. As her dancers orbit one another and intersect each others’ pathways, they bring these notations to life, tracing their trajectories and transforming them into a map for deciphering their motions. It’s a clever touch—one that may help engage audiences less familiar with abstract dance by offering insight into the intricate mechanics at play in the absence of a narrative.

When viewed from a distance, abstract dance can sometimes feel cold and impersonal. Yet the up close, in the round setting of “Neither Drums Nor Trumpets” exposes abstraction’s whimsical potential. Dancer Anson Zwingelberg, for example, is particularly arresting as he casts cheeky glances and smiles at his colleagues, while the appearance of two performers dressed in aprons, arranging flowers and polishing glasses on an elevated balcony—a reference to the fact the hall is now mostly used as a hospitality space—adds a touch of theatricality to proceedings. There are even subtle narratives to be found for those who look closely: As the Rambert students re-emerge at irregular intervals, removing their ballet shoes to chase the professional cast around the stage, using the aforementioned balcony like a ballet barre to religiously practice exercises while watching proceedings below—it’s easy to interpret this as a quiet commentary on the dedication, training, and competitive spirit required of the next generation of dancers to achieve success.

In an interview, American choreographer Mark Morris said that due to the art form’s reliance on human performers with individual personalities, dance can never be purely abstract. Tanowitz’s “Neither Drums Nor Trumpets” makes a charming case in support of this statement. It highlights the warmth and human connection inherent to a wide variety of movement styles, demonstrating that with a meticulous yet imaginative choreographic eye like Tanowitz, these qualities can be present whether they aim to convey a story or not.

Emily May

Emily May is a British-born, Berlin-based arts writer and editor specializing in dance and performance. An alumna of Trinity Laban Conservatoire for Music and Dance and a member of the Dance Section of the UK Critics' Circle, she regularly contributes to publications across Europe and America including Dance Magazine, Art Review, Frieze, The Stage, Flash Art, The Brooklyn Rail, and Springback Magazine. She is currently an editor at COLORSxSTUDIOS, where she launched and continues to manage a new editorial platform.

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