“Three!”
The dusty-looking group of Batsheva dancers, all 17 of them, entered the BAM Opera House stage with a determined walk. No lifting into beautiful arabesques or dazzling chaine turns to take them in and out of wing space. They just walked, placing one foot in front of the other in a pre-destined path, then almost immediately returned to the center and began to move unlike any other dancers in any other company. This is part of the “gaga”technique that Ohad Naharin, director, has initiated and perfected for the Israeli-based company he directs, the company that sold out all performances at the Next Wave Festival in November.
Why are these dancers so compelling? Because Naharin and his trusted associates take time to thoroughly ground them in his technique. These dancers are not a pick-up company eager to make some money to pay the rent. Instead they are a solid group immersed in an exciting established technique. Because of this articulate schooling they have become a finely honed instrument with the ability to bring to life Naharin’s choreography.
To my understanding “gaga” makes use of every conceivable muscle, tendon, fingernail, lips, --anything that can move with good sense, a risk-taking freedom, and explosive energy. Naharin’s exploration of movement possibilities never ceases. Just when you think he has exhausted his vocabulary there comes another thrust of “how did he think of that” movement. As in the final section of “Three” called “Secus.” Naharin has lined up the dancers in three groups, each one doing a myriad of different things while the middle group formed a straight line. Each one in the center line walked to the front and pulled up the tee shirt, and exposed a rib or an ab, pulled it down and went to the end of the line to wait for the next turn. Symbolic, probably who knows? Yes, eventually the “stripping” extended to the cropped pants as well which go down (and up just as quickly) for a brief glance. I wondered how many audience members were missing the choreography in the side groups, the lunges, the wild kicks, and the falls to the stage floor that the dancers juxtaposed against the middle group.
Someone living in the North Pole probably wouldn’t have a clue about Naharin and his work, but if you are anywhere else in the universe you have heard, possibly seen, the evolution of “gaga,” the technique which the choreographer claims resulted from his own back injury and having to relearn how to dance to avoid pain. Personally, I can’t see where the explosive taxing combinations can be a source of back comfort, but no matter, they are simply bewildering and beautiful. To not be engaged by this creativity is to be comatose.
The opening section of “Three,” Bellus, brings the entire company to stand motionless on stage and have a long look at the sold-out house, and we, in turn, have a chance to size up the group costumed with disarming taste in “Old Navy” specials, tees and mid-calf pants. Their expressions give nothing away. The lilting music of Bach’s “Goldberg Variations,” already given its due in dance by Jerome Robbins, began and the dancers exited as if leaving a boring party except for one incredibly gifted young man left alone on stage expelling more energy in his allotted time than a lay person in one full day. (Unfortunately, no program credits for him are listed.)
The middle section “Humus,” to uncommonly quiet music by Brian Eno, involved the women only in a stirring, stunning choreographic essay that has them moving completely in unison, as one living force. It was exquisite, ranging from hearty jogging in place to sitting on the floor, legs outstretched, to jumping—stretching—clomping—or standing in disconnected positions abdomen distended as in pregnancy – a solidarity of women undisturbed by outside forces.
The final section, “Secus,” set to a musical montage of the Beach Boys (the only recognizable name for me) plus many others, suggests that Naharin really does his music homework. In the “gaga” technique there is no faking it. The movement would seem odd and uncommunicative if the dancers did not share a total commitment to their choreographer. Pulling at the sides of one’s mouth is not necessarily an attractive movement, yet within the “gaga” framework it became provocative. Naharin and his “gaga” technique are one of the few relevant dance techniques in remarkable development. Just as Martha Graham started with the contraction, to build a memorable school of choreography, so Naharin is also on his way. Wait and watch!