Meg Stuart throws very ordinary bodies into the fray

The two-hour heroic epic Until Our Hearts Stop by Meg Stuart, showing at the Rotterdam Schouwburg this week, does not engage in dramatic construction according to the rules of the Poetica By Aristotle. We don't know who these people are there on stage. Nor do they seem to have been given any special mission, though they are clearly driven by desire for physical contact. The purple carpets, the sofa and the huge, wondrous ceiling recall lobbies like you find in many of today's large buildings: theatres, offices, hotels, airports. Those places where you don't want to be found dead, but where we spend a lot of time in the meantime, hanging out or shopping, on our way to work or holiday destinations.

But luckily there is a band and they play matchless. Trumpet and piano, drums and bass fill the 'courtyard' with ambient atmospheres, rousing and broken rhythms, from cosy jazzy to disruptive chaos and sophisticated silence. The performers try to find a place in the transit world of the lobby. Stuart lets them practice manners. The sexual undercurrent, which, as internet usage proves, governs us all the most, soon surfaces and exuberant bodies are sniffed and fondled.

Light gene

Instead of sexy ladies in high heels and men with pumped-up muscles, Stuart throws in very ordinary bodies. It results in a collage of gestures and actions that sometimes gets a little explicit, but never really goes beyond suggestion. An incomparably edited pile of human gestures, which, disconnected from their usual context, produce not only light scene but, above all, hilarity and emotion. An aesthetic of wordless and casual gestures, between passers-by and acquaintances, or perhaps intimates. In the accumulation of movement and stillness, bodies and voices, light and dark, nudity and with the clothes on, grandiose images and absurd details, bodies, feelings and thoughts are gently rejoined.

The party game of Until Our Hearts Stop nicely draws out the attention machine in which our lives are shaped through social media. Entertainment dominates politics, the strongest may once again lie on top and scream for his rightness like a five-year-old boy. In that world, Until Our Hearts Stop the back of that rightness, undermines the rhetoric of bold statements and quick pictures, transforms pussy grabbing from a hobby of misogynistic men to a question about how desire defines our togetherness.

Clumsiness

Exclusion and isolation, viewing the world from the perspective of underdogs, losers and anti-heroes, it is a recurring theme in Meg Stuart's work. In previous performances, the isolation of the protagonists was sometimes taken to such extremes that, as a spectator, you wondered why you were still there and stayed there. In recent years, Stuart has made a number of more accessible performances, including projects with the Munich Kammerspiele / Johan Simons. Until Our Hearts Stop is one of them. But also Sketches/Notebook and Hunter show these signs. (See interview with Stuart following this year's Holland Festival).

The radical aesthetic submerges and the concreteness of group processes, interplay, mutual touch and exploration of boundaries in public comes to the fore. Dancers start singing, actors start dancing, and even the drummer sits naked behind his set for a moment. No one can retreat to the sure ground of virtuosity and technical mastery. Existential questions are linked not only with rebellion and resistance, but explicitly with ensemble. The audience is directly addressed and sometimes enticed to participate a little. Rolling marbles across the floor or taking a swig of whisky, it can't kill you. Meanwhile, Stuart arranges shyness and clumsiness in dealing into a virtuoso game of trial and error, of taking time and breaking out.

The two hours fly by, despite the huge gaps. Until Our Hearts Stop is reminiscent of the troubled optimism of Achterberg's "ghe whole day thou hast kept me going, dead, turning in me". Frustrated desire and joyful play, cynicism and full-throated abandonment, in their alternation, leave huge scope for spectators to watch, and watch that watch one more time.

What is so difficult about human, all-too-human desire? Why do we find it so difficult to extend our hand to another? That question is not answered. In the lobby, paintings have been removed from the wall and there is little room for triumph. But in Until Our Hearts Stop at least the playing field is open.

Meg Stuart in video doc about Until Our Hearts Stop above: "We are social animals, we need social social social contact, we need this constructed possibilities of play, and if we didn't have it as children we need to keep having it as adults, we need to witness that, because it keeps us going and it lifts us up, and sometimes i think there is not enough willingness to be silly and creative, there is not enough trust in the room, like social relationships are build on protocols or almost fear, it feels there is a lot of limits i think, and people don't even know where they're coming from, and most of the time in social relations people are just negotiating their limits, like how far close are we next to each other, how do we answer our emails, it's all about a game of borders, instead of just like 'okay, lets trust, lets say what we want to and if we don't feel like it also not - i don't know, i would like to, people to meet differently, even strangers .."