Garth Fagan, Sadler's Wells Theatre, London, Candoco, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London

An empty athletic aesthetic

Nadine Meisner
Monday 10 March 2003 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Garth Fagan's choreography is the American dream: self-made, uninhibited, a cultural melting pot. Born in Jamaica, Fagan mixes Afro-Caribbean syncopations with ballet and modern dance postures. He founded his company 32 years ago, an ensemble of athletic dancers, made of spun steel and elastic.

If only their athleticism was applied to more aesthetic and meaningful shapes; if only their individuality had scope to flourish. Fagan's choreography may be just the thing for musicals – it won Tony and Olivier awards for The Lion King. It may even be the kind of high-energy product often tagged as "vibrant". But for a quintuple bill it becomes the party you want to leave, the overlong game of inscrutable rules where you are the excluded observer. It's not that everything looks alike, it's that the impact is the same because nothing has discernible significance or visual logic.

In Memoriam is dedicated to the victims of September 11 and uses appropriately solemn choral music by the 16th-century composer Cristobal de Morales. But what does the movement say? The motifs – chest-hugging arms, balletic tendus, balances with a raised leg wiggling – are empty and ugly, while being contrary enough to be distracting. Touring Jubilee 1924 (Professional) is more entertainingly straightforward, with music by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band and dance-hall couples, although the comedy is never narrower than broad and the inspiration clichéd. The evening perks up with Woza (Zulu for "come"), thanks to an exuberant, African-style finale, the dancers forming unison twitching lines and blocks. Fagan also shows elsewhere that he has talent for arranging group patterns in space; but then sabotages the effect with the actual movement.

The prospect of programme two was too much for me, and I headed for Candoco instead. The dancers here also looked particularly good and all three of their pieces successfully played around with the mix of physical ability and disability that is the company's raison d'être. Jamie Watton's collaborative Phasing uses David Lock's wheelchair to vary visual levels and create interesting group sculptures. The limpid, direct dance felt light years away from Fagan's awkward intricacies and perfectly matches Steve Reich's dappled, translucid New York Counterpoint. Production values are excellent, with beautiful lighting by Lucy Carter which gives the three performers a stunning exit along a corridor of lighted squares pulsating with the music.

You could argue that it doesn't add up to a cohesive statement. Nor does Fin Walker's Shadow, although she is clearly intent on depicting relationships as well as upending expectations so that able-bodied dancers collapse, while Welly O'Brien balances on her single leg.

Javier de Frutos's Sour Milk was something else: a completely over-the-top ritual for Pedro Machado and three women to traditional Chinese percussion. Not only does he teasingly conceal which of the women can or can't walk but also he dares outrageously to go all the way, taking the stylised orgasmic pumping and tilting to such a baroque, subversive extreme that it becomes tremendous. The effect of dramatic silhouettes against changing washes of colour is stunning. His visible nakedness under a long shirt and repeated woven steps are quintessential de Frutos, so it is as if de Frutos is dancing, vicariously.

Garth Fagan Dance appears at the Nottingham Playhouse tonight (0115-941 9419). Candoco tours to 7 June

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in