Europália 91: Four for Klapstuk
You can read more about André Lepecki and his poetics as a writer on the following link: http://www.sarma.be/nieuw/critics/lepecki.htm
CREDITS
Editor Sarma: Myriam Van Imschoot
Editor Portugal: Monica Guerreiro
Research in Lisbon: Jeroen Peeters
Coördination: Steven De Belder, Jeroen Peeters, Charlotte Vandevyver, Myriam Van Imschoot
Translator: Clive Thoms
Financial Support: Portuguese Institute for the Arts
Thank you to: André Lepecki for the contribution to this anthology, BLITZ for giving consent to republish the texts on www.sarma.be, Diana Teixeira (typiste)
Thanks to the good offices of the Teatro Nacional D. Maria II, reasonably good conditions were provided for a presentation of four of the pieces to be performed at the Klapstuk Festival in Louvaine, as part of Europália’91.
1. Francisco Camacho and O Rei no Exílio (The King in Exile)
Just as in Quatro e o Quarto, where the audience came in to the sound of Prince’s Black Album, the music was already playing as we filed in. This time it was Marianne Faithful calmly setting the tone, marking out the venue.
The solo performed by Francisco Camacho himself is the darkest of his works. The exiled king is D. Manuel II, but it is also obviously the author/performer/character who appears clad in a royal cloak (one of Carlota Lagido’s best costume designs to date), walkman over his ears, a briefcase handcuffed to his arm, his head almost shaven. And he sings Yesterday with the brainless voice common to anyone singing whilst listening to a walkman with the volume on full. Then we also hear the voices of Natália de Andrade, Nick Cave and Laibach. And we understand that there is nothing but irony and decadence. Hence the adulterated voices, the bad habits (coffee, whisky, too many cigarettes), the mordant comments on the imperfections of existence, as in the author’s self-portrait, on the “throne” (very sober and effective sets by Philip Cabau), playing in counterpoint to the flattering portrait of the King. The King in Exile is probably Francisco Camacho’s best work so far. It is a piece about the make-up of centralized power in the body, in the body of the King, who gets high on self-adoration, and is an obsession for his subjects (as shown by texts from the time spoken during the piece). The body of the King is the Christ, and his death the resurrection of life: the King is dead. Long live the King!
2. Aldara Bizarro and As Marias e os Papelinhos (The Marias and the Little Papers)
For starters, there are sets designed by Rui Pedro Pinto which define the space formally and symbolically. All very simple: a panel in a wedge filled with dozens of inverted eyes which stare at us in a rather deranged fashion. On the right, a bench only slightly treated to conduct a coherent dialogue with the panel. And between the sets and the piece, and also between the sets and the music, and between the dance and the music, I seemed to detect the same type of discrepancy. Let’s see. The choreography consists of a series of moments which find their tone and connecting thread in João Lucas’ original score. But structurally I don’t think the choreographer managed to explain each moment, the cuts or the relations between each part. As a result, there is something inconsequential about watching the piece. The metaphors, however, are all there: the bench, which turns out to be cut, the wedge-shaped sets, the angular lighting design, the abrupt changes in the music, the nudity of Mónica Lapa (who danced superbly on the opening night), the eyes staring at us. But they are only suggested and not used to the full. But not to worry. Pieces are meant to be constructed gradually, and there’s no shortage of time.
A dress rehearsalIt’s a dress rehearsal
It’s the dress rehearsal
Fate decreed that I should only see the dress rehearsal of the next two pieces. And although a dress rehearsal should already be a performance, we all know that the pitch of concentration is not the same as in a real performance (even when the house is packed, which was the case). Making due allowances therefore:
3. Joana Providência and Justine et Abstine
Joana Providência’s piece is a reworking of her part in the joint piece she did with Paula Massano, performed at Acarte at the start of the year. Between two strips of Astroturf, over a dark area whose main feature is its undefined quality (the sets are by Philip Cabau), we watch the duo of Carlota Lagido/Cristina Santos as they embrace the movement – as plastic as it is fluid – of Joana Providência. The music is Beethoven’s String Quartet Opus 127, and everything unfolds in a romantic atmosphere, in a repetitive and hypnotic ritual, but where the gestures have liberated themselves from the minimalism – questioned and requestioned – of Mecanismos. Two parts can be distinguished, separated by the choreographer’s entry on stage. I felt that something was lost after this humorous intervention. The introduction of straps which restrict the dancers’ arm movements is difficult to understand, and the tone of the lighting causes the sense of hypnotism to border on somnolence. Fortunately, the piece ends before we nod off.
4. Rui Nunes and A Ilha dos Amores (The Island of Love)
A huge vat full of salt, a huge vat full of water with a little sailing boat floating in it, a salt pathway along which the dancers walk. An Island of Love inhabited only by men. Rui Nunes’ Island of Love is a sort of utopian projection of the desires of men, of voyagers (the most beautiful Mediterranean archetype since Ulysses), and so it has always to be peopled by their bodies, by their presence. Or by their ghosts, which you don’t see: they are hiding in the land of dreams, in the labyrinth of the mind.
The movement choreographed by Rui Nunes is beautiful – using more or less improbable leaps, falls, imbalance and flight, to carry us into the universe of dreams. The voyage is that of Ezequiel Santos, the point of reference around which the other three dancers (Miguel Pereira, Paulo Jesus and Rui Nunes) move, literally making him glide in a frieze of sailors. Desire hovers in the air.
5. Final Note
The lack of any policy at the State Department of Culture for supporting dance makes it increasingly more likely for citizens of any other European country to attend a performance of new Portuguese dance than those of us here at home. As a result, the small auditorium (the Sala Gil Vicente at the TNDMII) was too small to hold everyone eager to see the latest work of Francisco Camacho, Aldara Bizarro, Joana Providência and Rui Nunes. Which only goes to draw attention to the wisdom of our Secretary of State for Culture (he alone was responsible to vetoing the funding for these projects which are to represent Portugal at Europália, and which had been recommended by the Directorate-General for the Arts – Jack Lang, come to the rescue!) and the praiseworthy initiative of the Youth Institute which subsidised around 50% of the costs of producing three of the four works presented.