schrit_tmacher justdance! Festival in Aachen

Falling, flying and steaming

The second opening of this year’s Schrit_tmacher festival presented ‘BACH Reimagined’ by the British James Wilton Dance in the sold-out theatre in Aachen. Not an ideal choice.

Night review by Melanie Suchy

It was not a convincinga performance for the festive evening. What shone on stage was the top of Mayor Sibylle Keupen’s head, who enthusiastically welcomed the thirtieth edition of the festival, thanked its founder and director Rick Takvorian and was sung a double Happy Birthday by the good-humoured audience. The silver medal of honour, which Takvorian received in a small box as a tribute from the city of Heerlen for his cross-border commitment, also shone; a tear glistened on the cheek of the honouree, presumably, and the humorous swing of the alderman Jordy Clemens from Heerlen shone: ‘we make Schrittmacher great again’, so that it may grow beyond the handful of participating cities. More Europe.

James-Wilton-Dance_Bach-reimagined©TANZweb.org_Klaus-Dilger

With the lectern cleared away, the stage became sparse. Not quite: a cloud of mist hung in the air. Quite nice, so alone. But not for long. A great mist drifted away, flowing from above and from the side, serving the changing lighting as a play of colours, sometimes rainbow, sometimes yellow, blue, white, bright at the front, bright at the back, spotlight, rays as if through a forest. Light on, light off. Not very artistic. In front of it, in between, a cellist played music and two danced. Man and woman. Sometimes just the man, just the woman. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But the musician was always there, sitting at the front, playing one piece after the other, like an album.

James-Wilton-Dance_Bach-reimagined©TANZweb.org_Klaus-Dilger

A suite

The Canadian Raphael Weinroth-Browne built loops, i.e. he had a section of music played again by mounting a switch next to his feet and then added a new layer, then another one on top, like a song, long notes, plus a rhythmic one underneath, and another one on top or tapping on the cello, pock-pock-pock. Increasingly dense soundscapes, with drive at the bottom and melodies and melismas on top that were remotely reminiscent of Irish songs or peering into the Orient with a telescope. It had its charm and was well done, but the effects became tiring at some point. The cellist occasionally broke chords, rushing up and down in repetition like a typical baroque cello voice. He probably played Bach once, Johann Sebastian, to whom the title of the whole evening refers and who, for God’s sake, no one needs to ‘breathe new life into’, as the piece announcement trumpets. His sophistication, complexity, just with bow, instrument, player, without all the electronics, would be lively enough.

Talking of loops. The choreography also repeated many things. At the beginning, it also used a piece of equipment: a trampoline, the size of a garden paddling pool. James Wilton stood up, raised a knee and an arm, seemed to lunge – and tipped backwards. Again. He also tipped sideways, flipped backwards, rolled, flipped in the air, did belly flops. Somehow he didn’t get any further or higher, but then he did, a few juicy jumps, then tipping again. Striving and failing could be recognised in it, up and down and lots of circular movement.

Attractive forces

These motifs pervaded the following scenes on the bare floor. The dancer Sarah Jane Taylor and the dancer-acrobat Wilton scrambled for air and greatness, bent upwards, bent over, rolled, circled and undulated. Like a cellist bowing on strings, they pulled their arms and bodies apart and together, back and forth. At one point, her hand even guided a real bow, first across her stomach as if she were the instrument, then through the air like a conductor. What Wilton later repeated with a small cloth on a stick, whirling through the air in endless loops. Centrifugal forces trained to beauty.

There was a kind of climax to go with it. After the two individual dancers had reduced the distance, touched each other as if in invisible wrappings, then placed the backs of their hands delicately against each other, she now flew effortlessly onto his shoulder, rolled there, turned, glided down, flew again, landed upside down, he caught, he lifted, he flung her across. Fast and fluffy, tried and tested techniques of contemporary dance, ‘contact improvisation’ and ‘partnering’, just not performed on an equal footing. However, the couple’s joy of swinging, flying and teamwork enlivened what was otherwise too pregnant with meaning and only half visible from the dance floor. The whole thing was not about a story, but about airiness in partnership with the weight of the earth and the body. Physics. Just not a great artistic achievement.