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Shen Wei Dance Arts 'Re- (Part I),' 'Re- (Part II)' and 'Re- (Part III)'
April 30, 2010 -- The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Eisenhower Theater, Washington, DC Shen Wei Dance Arts (“SWDA”) performed the Re-triptych (“Re-Parts I, II and III”) in its spring program at Washington, DC’s Kennedy Center. The company, however, did not perform the triptych in the order the pieces were choreographed. Instead, while “Re-Part I” (2006) opened the program, “Re-Part III” (2009) was sandwiched in the middle, and “Re-Part II” (2007) played the role of the caboose. For some reason, this order seemed just right. The trio of works, all choreographed by Shen Wei, best known for his choreography of the 2008 Olympic Opening Ceremony in Beijing, were inspired by his travels in Asia, specifically Tibet (“Re-Part I”), Angkor Wat and other temples in Cambodia (“Re-Part II”), and China’s Silk Road (“Re-Part III”). I had seen “Re-Part I” on a previous occasion, and I was struck by how different it looked this year. When I first saw the work, the dancers wore reddish tops, and now the long-sleeved t-shirts worn by the dancers were more of an extremely pale purplish gray. There was no projection that I could recall beforehand, but this time around, there was a backdrop of clouds that brightened and darkened with the fabulous lighting by dance’s foremost lighting designer Jennifer Tipton. But the biggest difference I noticed related to where I was seated. Earlier, I’d been sitting in the balcony, and during my most recent viewing, I was in the orchestra section. The experience felt, surprisingly, entirely new. Many of the joys of “Re-Part I,” though, were familiar, despite the surface differences. The work opened with dancers, eyes downcast, placed around the edges of a colored mandala on the floor. The mandala was ultimately destroyed by dancers shuffling backward through it in socked feet, as if pulled by an invisible string at the end of their tailbones. The way the mandala’s confetti-like petals clung to the dancers and fell gradually away or swept in little puffs amidst their feet was still extremely fascinating to watch. Additionally, Shen Wei’s signature painterly style of movement, with hypnotic undulations of the limbs and torso and simple liquid rolls across the stage, remained equally engrossing. SWDA’s flexible dancers exaggeratedly leaned. With their hips pushed forward and their heads tossed back, or in a diving pitch with their heads down and legs extended in the air behind, they appeared decidedly, but beautifully off-balance. Softly, quietly, with inexplicable suppleness, they also magically smoothed their bodies into the floor and back up again.
“Re-Part III” included a host of other delightful surprises. According to the program, Shen Wei recorded sounds on China’s Silk Road. One could hear the hum of insects. Little hunched over jumps and hops provided humor. At other times, the dancers seemed engaged in a childhood game of “Red Light, Green Light” since they stopped and froze in place. Faster movement occurred here than in “Re-Part I,” and spinning, too. From the center of a re-formed marching throng, dancers leapt up and did their own thing, despite their imprisonment, perhaps indicating the pressures of conformity and the desire for individuality in China. A neon ripple appeared at the back of the stage (projection design by Shen Wei and Daniel Hartnett), and the single line bit by bit, as it jiggled, morphed into a mountainous landscape. An elfin-eared soloist (the same one at the front of the stage in “Re-Part I”) asserted her independence. The rest of the dancers returned to the stage in different costumes, this time in darker shorts and tops, and socks that resembled boots. The music by David Lang became assaultive, the strings (violin performance by Todd Reynolds) violent. The dancers acted out the emotion of the crazed strings, looking like punk soldiers doing modern dance – reckless, even angry. Finally, all of the dancers twisted together and joined in a linear shape that stretched across the stage. Bodies suspended between bodies as if to spell something. “Re-Part II” riveted me the most. Again, Shen Wei used sounds he recorded. In this case, sounds at Angkor Wat, including the sound of a bird. The projections for this part of the Re-triptych consisted of a moon, a bird, a cliff/forest, and tremendous tree roots in black and white. The dancers first wore unflattering hunter green and wine colored unitards, plus red socks. Limbs crossed almost accidentally, creating pairs. The traditional Cambodian music gave the work a folksy feeling, as if to evoke long ago memories. Like in the other parts, “Re-Part III” showed off martial-arts inspired fluidity and angles. The dancers moved through the space with control and elegance. Later, the dancers wore almost no costumes at all: skin-colored briefs and bare chests for both the men and women. Tipton’s masterful lighting made some dancers look ghostly, powdery white. With heads tipped almost grotesquely backward, reclining dancers resembled headless statues. This broken neck pose was simultaneously disconcerting and intriguing. The projection of huge tree roots began to fade like an overexposed photograph, and then the roots reappeared via a scrim being lifted to reveal the same projection anew behind the scrim. The composition of “Re-Part II” – choreography, lighting, projection, and costume design – was achingly pretty. The final image of bodies strewn at the foot of the large roots, bare bony protuberances – knees and elbows and hips – facing up, heads hidden by these harsh body angles, was spooky, in a good way. The stillness, the roots, and the presence of flesh and bones conjured history and the passage of time. Ever so slowly, slowly, the lighting faded to darkness. The end could not have been more perfect or more moving. SWDA’s Re-triptych is packed with wow moments. The dancers took some extra time to do the curtain call. They had to put on white terrycloth robes in order to face the glaring house lights since they had just been nearly naked. Once assembled, the enthusiastic Kennedy Center crowd rewarded the company with a well-deserved standing ovation.
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by Carmel Morgan
“Re-Part III,” which followed, began with the sound of wooden clacking. The dancers wore shades of light, grassy green. The marching steps of the dancers brought to mind images of Chinese military troops. Their arms and feet swung forward and back buoyantly. From the core of the marchers, members were lost. Two dancers who broke away from the group leaned into one another at a deep angle, making an arched human bridge, then flowed suddenly and silently to the floor. Soon, four more dropped pairs emerged. Once on the floor, their heads rested on their partners’ shoulders. Unbelievably, the couples rose from the floor together, in unison, without even an awkward wiggle.