What The Body Does Not Remember premiered in June 1987 in the Netherlands. It was the first work for Wim Vandekeybus’ new company, Ultima Vez, founded by him the previous year.
It’s hard to believe that this piece is actually 27 years old. In the discussion session that followed it was clear that for those, like myself, who hadn’t seen it before, it felt fresh, original, entirely contemporaneous.
Dancer Guilhem Chatir revealed in the discussion the interesting push and pull between Vandekeybus and rehearsal director Eduardo Torroja in deciding whether or not to revive it. Torroja, also with the company since the beginning, worked on What The Body first time round. “It was our first baby,” he says. He was keen to revive it as close to the original as possible.
Vandekeybus however, is not known for looking back. Inevitably, with new dancers there would be subtle changes. That he considered this piece important enough to revisit is therefore significant. He cites its importance in the fact that it highlights the physicality of dance, rather than something purely conceptual which he feels a lot of modern dance has shifted towards in the 21st Century.
The opening sequence sees two male dancers lying on the floor, as though sleeping on the dark empty stage. A female dancer arrives and stands behind them at what at first appears to be a set of record decks. It’s actually a percussion board. Each slap, brush and twist of her hands and fingers on the board triggers a lightning response from the dancers.
Her hovering right hand brings one dancer into a plank position; her slammed left brings the other crashing to the ground on his back. She is dictating their every move, like a rhythmic form of torture. As she becomes more accustomed to her power, her commands quicken and get increasingly complex. As it goes on, you begin to wonder how long they can keep it up before one of them breaks. It’s breathtaking.
What follows is scene after scene of high intensity movement. Breeze blocks seemingly made of chalk are used as stepping stones to escape fellow dancers’ advances. As things speed up, they are hurled into the air and become objects to avoid or catch at a moments notice. Quick reactions are essential and you begin to wonder how much is choreographed, how much improvised. Some bricks are dropped and smash on the ground, others are saved just seconds before in an impressive sliding catch as dust rises from the rubble collecting on the stage.
There are moments of humour, a flash of nudity too, as towels are swapped and stolen, personal space is invaded and jackets switched from dancer to dancer.
These moments are all key to the inspiration for the piece – “the intensity of moments when you don’t have a choice, when other things decide for you, like falling in love or the second before the accident…”
When it ends you question the time – surely 90 minutes couldn’t have passed already? At this length with no interval, the dancers’ concentration is key. And Chatir points out “We have to look out for each other out there, it’s dangerous.”
Ultima Vez performed at Nottingham Playhouse on Friday 6 March 2015
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