Danish company Granhøj Dans return to the Centaur this week and try, in their own way, to be free.
Geneviève Metson plays with phosphorus in the lab and has learnt its story. She will tell it at Place Bonaventure on Saturday with an interactive dance performance.
Piss in the Pool (a co-production of Wants&Needs Dance and Studio 303) has become a staple of Montréal’s summertime dance scene. Now in its 9th year,…
Louise Lecavalier is rad. While most 54 year old women spent last Thursday night with Netflix and a bottle of red (not judging – that sounds great to me too), Lecavalier was dancing her guts out to a packed Théâtre Maisonneuve audience of 1,453 who responded in kind with a unanimous standing ovation. It was the final show of this year’s Festival TransAmériques, and it went out with a bang.
Do you remember singing Frere Jacques or Row Your Boat at school, when your teacher would make you sing it in rounds? First one group would start singing, then another group would join in the existing voices but sing the song from the beginning. The end result was a satisfying melange of notes and voices all over the place and yet all performing the same function. Levée des Conflits was the contemporary dance version of that.
100 years ago this week, the Ballet Russes premiered Rite of Spring in Paris and an instant classic was born. It was fresh and new, edgy and alive. It sparked a riot, so they say. At least one person was challenged to a duel. A duel, for Pete’s sake! That’s badass.
Dear Dana Michel, This is just to say that I have no idea how to review your work, Yellow Towel, that I saw last night as part of the FTA — a dilemma as I am a dance critic and one who, as you will appreciate, must produce something and in a timely fashion.
Last night, South-African choreographer Robin Orlin and the Moving into Dance Mophatong company presented Beauty remained for just a moment then returned gently to her starting position… Despite Orlin’s international reputation as a creator of powerful and provocative works, Beauty failed to pack a serious punch, giving a disappointing start to the FTA festival for dance.
“I like long titles because I want the audience to free associate,” says South African choreographer Robyn Orlin, on a glitchy Skype call from Germany. “Aaaand because I hate programme notes.”
Jonathan Burrows and Matteo Fargion were in Montreal this past weekend for a blink-and-you’ll miss-it run of Cheap Lecture and The Cow Piece, followed by Counting to One Hundred and One Flute Note. Packaged by Usine C as Quatre Créations in two nights, the individual works seemed shakily whole – a feeling reinforced at the close of each by Burrows and Fargion’s look of bemused surprise that they had, once more, pulled it off.
For a Quebec Anglo de souche or by adoption, there can’t be a better tonic to the maudit winter of our discontent than a spell at the Festival Transamérique, opening in Montreal next Wednesday. An 18-day many-lingual feast of cutting-edge dance and theatre from the world out there, this is the Quebec we know and love. The rest is just politics.
I have to confess, the last time I went to a dance show with the word “butoh” in the press kit, I spent the second half of the evening mentally composing my grocery shopping list. The white makeup, the interminable slow-motion choreography… Frankly I’d rather eat a bag of hair than sit through two hours of that.
For a brief three-day run, Maria Pagés and company perform Autorretrato, a self-portrait of its star Flamenco dancer. On Thursday night, the theatre of the Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier was packed, with many in the crowd shouting out words of encouragement and praise as dancers executed steps with dynamic finesse. These excited audience members helped bridge the gap between the imposing stage and the seats below, bringing an unscripted intimacy to the work that furthered its personal theme.
“It’s over!” Jacques Poulin-Denis yells at the small press group scattered about Usine C’s large auditorium Tuesday night. “Au Revoir! Auf Wiedersehen! Good Bye!” Nobody moves. “What? What, you wanna dance? Get the fuck out of here!” Silence.
In a work of eight successive solos, José Navas explores the effects of time, memory, and dance upon his body: through each, the vulnerability of the soloist is revealed and heightened. As the title suggests, we the audience move through a series of Navas vignettes: detailed studies from which we can but guess their subjects and significance. Beauty rests in the shared intimacy of the space, and in the concentration of the dancer’s efforts.