Alain Platel’s mapping of “anotherness” in Out of Context - for Pina by Coman Poon

We are animals. Language is wild.


“Us” absorbs “them”, and “another” is in some way like us even while it is different.


Blindness is an essential element of knowledge.


The performer dies in order to give value to that which has been degraded and rendered profane.


The witness gives value to the sacred by co-creating a privileged moment of communal unity.


I was recently reminded of these elements of “anotherness” upon being introduced to Alain Platel’s les ballets C de la B, which launched both the National Arts Centre’s fall dance season in Ottawa and Harbourfront Centre’s World Stage 2010/11 season in Toronto with their ecstatic new work Out of Context - for Pina, aptly dedicated to the late German dancer/choreographer Pina Bausch.


In contrast to earlier works by this celebrated Belgian dance theatre troupe, Out of Context - for Pina opens with a minimally adorned stage: two lone microphones on stands and a wash of white light across an empty stage. Like a performance installation, we are left to stare into and contemplate this theatrical stillness in context of our expectations of performance. A lone woman emerges from amidst the audience, climbs up onto and crosses upstage and stands with her back to the audience. She methodically sheds her attire until she is standing in undergarments and, in a choreographic homage to Pina Bausch’s unveiling of the theatrical “fourth wall” in the seminal Kontakthof, turns around and walks downstage to present herself to our gaze. In overlapping sequence, each of the performers repeat this framing ritual, ending by seductively draping and shifting their disrobed bodies beneath the plush of a uni-form red blanket.

Tonight’s dance-theatrical contract is intimated: experiences, and not stories per se, will be staged on these performers’ bodies. Each performer turns around and looks directly out at us, the audience, inviting us to straddle this liminality. What is the experiential fine line between voyeurism ; exhibitionism, passion and pathology, poignancy and indictment, escapism and realism, fiction and biography? Out of Context - for Pina intentionally plays with these considerations by collapsing the boundaries between audience and performer, psyche and body, human nature and culture.

In looking to reveal what is hidden, and to inquire about our connections and differences as human animals, Alain Platel employs dramaturgical strategies to simultaneously implicate our bodies and personas as both object and subject. Through this self-conscious labyrinth of mirrors, we are invited to gaze inwardly and outwardly at the refractions between our individual and collective yearnings.

As individuals as well as part of a collective, we all bring our own experience -our thoughts, imaginations, feelings and responses- to what we see, hear and sense. Through a language of expressionistically vocal, writhing and gesticulating bodies, Out of Context - for Pina suggests that beneath the surface of difference, humans are self-aware animals uniquely united through tears, wounds and the transgression of boundaries. The canvas of our common humanity is sewn with communal experiences of loss, sacrifice, love and ecstasy. As Pina Bausch might say, this is the source of our greatest joy and trepidation.


Coman Poon  is an interdisciplinary artist-activist who integrates a multi-modal live art background, a long-time social and environmental justice activist practice, and training as an arts-informed coach and therapist to create a unique hybrid collaborative practice. With Erica Mott (Chicago, USA), he co-founded re[public] in/decency, an experiential think tank that explores the trans-national intersections between performance, social justice activism and arts-informed pedagogy.

11 comments:

Ofelia said...

I was lucky to watch this performance at Harbourfront Centre last night. I had heard great things about it and therefore expected it to be great, and it was, but it wasn't always easy to digest. Loosely divided into A B A form, the performance started very excitedly with every single one of the dancers taking most of their clothes off. Only thing better than that, would be to watch those bodies move through full and big and fast phrases. As the dancers made minimal, passive, and unattractive movements, my concern grew, i figured it surely was going to build up shortly, but instead an environment was created. One where i didn't know if i was watching humans, animals or species from another planet. This wasn't a bad thing, it just wasn't the fast crazy dance show i had seen in the promo video. The person next to me kept looking at his clock. But B arrived, and with it came entertainment. The audience laughed at the clever combination of goofy yet complicated rhythmic phrases performed with hilarious intervals of popular songs sung by the dancers, of course. B was fantastic, brilliant, it was a relief. I thought to myself that perhaps i enjoyed it more because i had been through the first section. Had i seen only B, then i might not have loved it as much. A, gave me the feeling the company did not care to be liked, or make me think they are amazing, there was a reality, an ugliness that brought credibility so that b was not a gimmick.
After this section, the strange environment from A was almost clarified when a child was brought to the stage and all dancers laid on their bellies impersonating a toddler. This study was a success.
In the end, it was highly emotional for me. A perfectly chosen song made me think of Pina. I cried. The dancers became glorified. Fair. An empty stage. Life goes on.

Hammer & Popsicle said...

Loved, loved the emotional & physical range in what i saw. The herd-like, infantile, hysterical and nostalgic compacted into a thrilling 85 minutes.

I was following the intricate microphone-play parts so hard that i could almost taste the fader/slider movement of the mixing board.

Dan Daley said...

I really appreciate your framing for the show Ofelia. A-B-A is exactly how I would describe it. I would also describe it as rising and falling action like any good piece of fiction, which is surprising to me because I did not expect to see this work follow what appeared to be a linear structure. It seemed chaotic at times, or to use Alain's word, hysteric. In all of the hysteria it was great to feel like I had gone on a journey with these performers as they oscillated between humility and intrepidity.

It's true that the beginning of the show does not start with a bang, but rather it starts with silence. A gentleman behind me let out a sigh and 5 minutes later began to snore... I kid you not. However, I think he woke up for the rhythm and beat section and I hope to god he at least caught the singing.

I can't say I loved the show. I was moved by it, even disturbed at times. There were moments that I felt were dragged on and I couldn't help but feel like this was a big wank on stage. The long periods of undressing seemed self-indulgent. Some of the physical behavior even seemed to be done in a mocking nature. However, I felt provoked by the work to question every action. I filled up with conflict, debating over what it could mean. It was only when I stopped trying to focus on what it meant that I was able to receive it more truthfully. The show grew on me after seeing it for a second time. Suddenly I felt very emotional about the behavior of the dancers which gave me access to a different understanding of it.

I still cannot say whether I really liked the show, but I can say that it affected me deeply and I won't ever forget it.

Jonathan Seinen said...

I saw this piece twice, and the first time I didn't care for it. My trouble with seeing dance pieces sometimes is I keep waiting for it to start, for something to happen. Then the second time, I realise, no it is happening. All the time. All around me.
I love that the dancers started in the audience, then getting up on stage, stripping away the daily, the costumes we wear, and getting down to who we are underneath, that inside of us all are other worlds, other creatures, species, beings that we are either don't know are there or are scared to explore.
Dan Daley mentions that he was disturbed and felt the work was sometimes 'mocking'. Me too. But seeing it a second time, I feel I was given a gift. As found in Coman's original post, 'The performer dies in order to give value to that which has been degraded and rendered profane.' And since the work was created by the dancers and their improvisations, it comes directly from their bodies, their imaginations, their courage. So, thank you.

Anonymous said...

I also had the chance to see the piece twice and like Jonathan, they were profoundly different experiences. On opening night I watched from the balcony and felt a disconnection between the dancers and myself. The wall between us was just too great for me to be affected by the dancer’s vulnerability. This piece needed the intimacy of closeness; when I watched it the second time from the orchestra, I felt invited to share the experience rather than to watch as simply a voyeur.
I was most surprised to discover that the Canadian reaction to the show was so different than the European reception. Alain commented that European audiences rarely laugh and generally watch in silence. The whole company seemed shocked by the laughter that erupted sporadically throughout the piece. Given the amount of fragility and vulnerability required of the material and the actors, this was a response they had never encountered in a show about human loneliness.
So why did we laugh?
I know my laughter bubbled up from places of fragility, awe, and a kind of embarrassed excitement. Seeing people on stage in such a state of openness and honesty, mixed with bodies and movement that fearlessly explores the human condition, created these amazing, hilarious and beautiful moments that made me laugh. I sometimes wondered if what I was doing was wrong, but it was almost like a virus spreading through the audience. One person would start giggling and the next thing I knew I was laughing just because they were.
And that ending – it broke my heart and left me with this profound sense of emptiness. Why could I not accept an invitation to dance onstage? Why did only one person in an audience of at least a hundred people have the courage to enter that state of vulnerability? What does that say about us as humans, as an audience, as a culture? Are we so disconnected from one another we can’t even hear the cry of loneliness or are we just too polite to do anything about it?
I’m still vibrating from the aftershock of the piece...and enjoying this maddening and frustrating state of being that doesn’t know any of the answers to all of the questions it stirs up.

Hannah Cheesman said...

I seem to be re-stating a theme here, but the piece fully-engaged me when the beat came in, and the frenetic microphone call-and-response scenario began. I hesitate to chalk this up to the seductive, pied-piper-esque quality of a driving beat, but still there is no denying that a steady and insistent rhythm demands you follow it.

Before this section (the introductory scenes), the performance quality was one difficult to latch onto, yet still clear in its tone. The question at that point, however, was whether a 'tone' could reveal enough about the characters, the impetus to move, and the 'necessity' to do so. While I argue that no, it could not, the playful and lively transition into rhythm grounded the piece. And because Platel and his dancers, in veritable narrative form, recalled beginning images, themes and sounds as they brought the piece to its conclusion, I was then able to glean meaning from the choreography.

This is not to say the piece was not virtuosic: the dancers were powerful, strong, versatile, unique in character and in the ways their bodies communicated. The audience was served a buffet of personalities to watch, and indeed was forced to choose where to put their focus. This fracturing of focal point meant that the audience would not and could not see everything that transpired. How like life that is: if you are going to invest enough of yourself to experience anything at all, you cannot experience everything.

Is it strange that I felt we were watching a piece still-unfinished? Platel, in the talk-back, spoke of the fragility of this piece. I agree, insofar as its offer was not a fully-matured one. Much like the 'birthing giraffe' gesture/movement that was repeated throughout, so too was the piece finding its feet, to be overly metaphorical. In some ways, it felt that the piece did not know what it was saying. But it knew it was trying to say something. And this attempt to say something, to give an offer, was perhaps what the audience was responding to, when a clamorous standing ovation was showered upon the dancers.
(continued...my posting is too long)

Hannah Cheesman said...

(posting part 2)
After speaking individually to one of the dancers following the show, I was given insight into the process of building the entire shape of the piece. He described how each scene was given its due process; he described the rigorous working-through of each dancer's offer as though it were a student defending their thesis. This is fascinating. And means each scene has a backbone: it is sturdy in its individual offer. His description of the organization of scenes also lent insight into why I might have felt unsure of the work's overall coherency or central proposal: they give each scene a title, and work and re-work where each section is slotted. This try-it-til-it-works process is not unusual, and in fact is a mainstay of many collaborative, improv-based, and often experimental theatre/dance works. But for me, it meant that a unified attempt to communicate was lacking. Perhaps this is demanding too much of the piece; perhaps I am asking for too much literal meaning, and missing the emotional, experiential, and instinctive quality of the work. But by naming it, I feel I am acknowledging its existence...and yet am still left craving more.

I realize I am harping on the over-arching structure of the piece, and paying little heed to the minutiae of the work. And granted, Out of Context—For Pina relies heavily on detailed and intricate choreography, particularly in its opening scenes. This is my own bias, as I tend toward wanting to see/understand the greater picture (in life and art). Perhaps this over-valuing of the meta robs one of truly experiencing the momentary. And, one must be reminded—the title of the piece alludes to work being taken 'out of context'. Perhaps Platel is far more aware of the piece's fractured quality than I am giving him credit for.

In closing, I find it necessary to address the response of the audience: in general, they loved the work, and were eager to convey this. Clearly, we have a Canadian audience that is craving this rawness of movement, is comfortable with distorted, fractured, or absent narrative lines (and this should be celebrated!), and is welcoming of the risky 'attempt to communicate'. What a great time to be both Canadian performers and audience, if we can in fact take advantage of such a supportive and encouraging public.

Hannah Cheesman said...

After speaking individually to one of the dancers following the show, I was given insight into the process of building the entire shape of the piece. He described how each scene was given its due process; he described the rigorous working-through of each dancer's offer as though it were a student defending their thesis. This is fascinating. And means each scene has a backbone: it is sturdy in its individual offer. His description of the organization of scenes also lent insight into why I might have felt unsure of the work's overall coherency or central proposal: they give each scene a title, and work and re-work where each section is slotted. This try-it-til-it-works process is not unusual, and in fact is a mainstay of many collaborative, improv-based, and often experimental theatre/dance works. But for me, it meant that a unified attempt to communicate was lacking. Perhaps this is demanding too much of the piece; perhaps I am asking for too much literal meaning, and missing the emotional, experiential, and instinctive quality of the work. But by naming it, I feel I am acknowledging its existence...and yet am still left craving more.

Hannah Cheesman said...

(posting part 3)

I realize I am harping on the over-arching structure of the piece, and paying little heed to the minutiae of the work. And granted, Out of Context—For Pina relies heavily on detailed and intricate choreography, particularly in its opening scenes. This is my own bias, as I tend toward wanting to see/understand the greater picture (in life and art). Perhaps this over-valuing of the meta robs one of truly experiencing the momentary. And, one must be reminded—the title of the piece alludes to work being taken 'out of context'. Perhaps Platel is far more aware of the piece's fractured quality than I am giving him credit for.

In closing, I find it necessary to address the response of the audience: in general, they loved the work, and were eager to convey this. Clearly, we have a Canadian audience that is craving this rawness of movement, is comfortable with distorted, fractured, or absent narrative lines (and this should be celebrated!), and is welcoming of the risky 'attempt to communicate'. What a great time to be both Canadian performers and audience, if we can in fact take advantage of such a supportive and encouraging public.

Salvatore said...

"Who wants to dance with me?", the dancer (Romeu Runa) asked me from the stage. I was seated in dark in the front row of a balcony. He was dressed only in his underwear––– I was fully clothed. He appeared spent; which I understood after experiencing the last eighty minutes of his performance along with the eight others in the piece. The work was personal and unsparing on every level. The performers didn't disappear behind their choreography (as is too often the case), but rather declared their distinct, individual presence within the work. I was open to receiving the piece on the night I saw it, and it took me on a satisfying journey. I squinted my eyes at times, in order to focus only on the broad strokes of the choreography, rather than closing in on every minute detail; I found that this served my experience. I witnessed an experience that seemed to be a witness to MY experience as a person trying to live in this society. It validated the multitude of emotions and states we normally have to convince ourselves out of, in order to "function properly" in today's world . I learned something from the piece that I found both sad and comforting: we are all alone together.
Prior to asking if anyone would dance with him, the dancer first asked everyone to raise their right hand in the air. Everyone in the audience complied. With our hands still in the air, not one of us answered his final question, " Who wants to dance with me?". He stood there for what seemed like an eternity waiting for someone, anyone. I will never forget the frustration and sadness that that moment inspired in me.
When art explores the vulnerable pockets of private in the human condition with such candor and courage, I can not help but feel relieved that I am not the only crazy/lonely/conflicted/superficial/sex-crazed/confused/frightened one in the universe. I am grateful for having experienced this piece.

Digital Mikey said...

I was only able to see it once... bummer. I wish to have gone back again if only to jump up on stage and dance with the guy at the end.

The piece was a bit of a creeper - indifferent in the beginning and then somewhere in the middle I found myself getting attached to the individual performances.

I love feeling like your getting to know a dancer. Too often they are used like some kind of neutral greek chorus that all blend together. In this piece you had the pleasure of being seduced by each. Bravo to the choreographer.

I hope he comes back again to engage me and others who hopefully will be intrigued to go next time.