There is something crushing about the massiveness. Choreographers Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten have featured in Extremalism the dancers of the Ballet National de Marseille and of ICK Amsterdam on stage, thirty in all. A huge 'corps de ballet'. Greco and Scholten and the dancers take root in classical ballet, but also break away from it. The classical footwork with leaps and pointe shoes is present. The slightly bent and raised arm returns in ever-changing variations. With such a 'corps de ballet', one involuntarily thinks: will they all dance to the same tune? That would give a powerful effect!
For a while, it looks like that is going to happen. They all make the same gestures. But not exactly the same! And often not at all. That turns out to give an even more powerful effect. Not a block of bodies serving one movement, but a movement flowing through all those thirty bodies. Energy that each receives from space. A movement as big as all of space.
[Tweet "No block of bodies serving one movement, but energy flowing through 30 bodies."]'The body in revolt', reads the subtitle of Extremalism. That rebellion is recognisable. The group breaks through the boundaries of classical ballet jargon with movements of their own(timewise). Each dancer tastes space - limbs are a tasting organ here - and their own place among the others.
Each time, there are contrary individual movements in the group of dancers. The power of mass is not there, but is built up searchingly, to an overwhelming level. Thus Greco and Scholten connect massiveness and individuality.
At some moments, the movement is minimal. Then the performance exudes a wide-open silence, despite... or no: thanks to the music Valgeir Sigurðsson composed for Extremalism composed. The music, ranging from thin tones to deep droning and a nervous rain of sounds, emphasises the space, gives it its size.
It is a shock when this music is broken. Already before, in Extra Dry (2002), Greco and Scholten choreographed a stormy passage from Vivaldi's Four seasons. Then it was a duet, now a mass dance. And the music rages over it like thunderous judgement. The group reaches the maximum of its power. Furious. Blind. Isn't it time for the body to free itself from music hammered into it? Exhausted, the dancers sidle onto the floor.
It is wonderful how the dancers then explore the space again and how, at the same time, a large circle of interconnected circles of light appears in the picture. This light sculpture by Henk Stallinga adds a lot to the drama of Extremalism. It is 'like a globe [that] revolves around itself,' say Greco and Scholten. 'It evokes time slipping by'. The recurrent descending, ascending and tilting movements of the circle of light make it seem as if space withdraws its hold. This gives the rebellion of the body, the conquest of its own movement, a necessity, a prerequisite for this dance. The unity with which this performance is designed is striking and goes into detail. At the beginning, the dancers wear braided masks with long strings, which unmistakably match the strings along the three walls. Even the programme book does not escape the unity of this theatre production. The picture on the cover with mirrored sets of dancers' bodies is reminiscent of the concatenated round fluorescent lights on Stallinga's light circuit.
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Does this performance complete the liberation of the body? Probably not. If the circle of light in Extremalism descended to the ground, he appears to be caged around the dancers. The search continues.
Photos by Alwin Polana
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