Seattle to Remain Famous for Coffee and Rain
Thanksgiving Pairing Suggestion: Dessert Isn't Just a Meal
Eight Things A Seattle Sports Fan Can Be Thankful For
Seattlest Pix 09Nov25
Can't Miss It: Thanksgiving Eve
Local dance collaborative locust debuted the world premiere of their new dance-video-music mashup "Mockumentary" at On the Boards last night, and it was one of the most intriguing, beautiful, dark, and thoroughly enjoyable performances that we've been to in a very long time.
The stage at On the Boards was surprisingly stark when we arrived, especially in contrast to our previous OtB experience with Constanza Macras' stuffed animal/garbage-ridden chaotic set design. Three large video screens were suspended on the back wall, and as we noted that the dancers were warming up on the stage itself, we sat down dead-center near musician Zeke Keeble (co-director of locust with dancer/choreographer Amy O'Neal), who was surrounded by drums, sampling instruments, a guitar, and at least two videocameras. Two white leather loveseats straddled the musical equipment, placed just in front of the first row. While warming up, dancers would saunter back to the couches, plucking water and juices from a cooler set next to the couch directly in front of us. When dancer Ellie Sandstrom offered a PBR to one of the two gentlemen seated next to the couch at stage-level, we knew this would be a unique show.
The atmosphere was almost that of a dress rehearsal--not because of the quality or presentation, but because the dancers never left the space, and milled around casually the entire time. They sat on the couches when not on stage, and made costume changes in full view in the sidelines. The intimate, comfortable, hanging-with-friends aura this created was translated directly into Amy O'Neal's choreography for Mockumentary, which was simultaneously languid and fierce, meshing traditional modern dance with hip-hop, funk, and, well, zombie moves. While zombies are used metaphorically and realistically within the many narrative themes woven throughout Mockumentary--including the line between horror and comedy, fear of losing control of one's own body, and the desire to be accepted and loved even when you are very different from everyone else--one truism was predomoniantly clear: if you fail to comprehend that hip-hop and funk can and should co-exist with traditional modern dance onstage, you are rapidly becoming a zombie of the dance world.
Seattlest is a product of the Michael Jackson generation, and we memorized every single little detail of the dance routine for Thriller. We cannot help but detect locust making a nod not only to bad, b-grade zombie and horror flicks in the narrative structure of Mockumentary, but they also seem to be tipping their hat subtly to the King of Pop's seminal epic as well. What both locust and MJ both captured brilliantly is the hint of the undead in hip-hop and other contemporary dance forms--the popping and locking, gyrating and chest-thumping; all take akward gestures and body movements and turn them into a surprisingly graceful form of art. Even the lead zombie in the recurring video sections forgoes the stereotypical zombie stumbling for a slightly more stylized, and unendingly comical, widelegged stutterstep that almost progresses into full breakdancing each time he careens down the sidewalk (we caught ourselves laughing out loud, often the only ones in the theater, as we recalled equally ridiculous scenes from Shaun of the Dead). As he claims more victims, each in turn develops a half-drunk breakin' style that makes for hysterical slow-motion video genius and some equisitely novel, unique dancing.
The zombie narrative is established by a Reggie Watts video cameo, as the power-hungry yet laughably untalented artistic director of the group. When they fail to comprehend his "vision", he puts a curse on them all, setting it in motion by a voodoo re-animation of the snooty french narrator that was killed within the first few minutes of the show. At times, we felt the storyline wandered, or veered off course entirely, but it was at least often rescued by brief moments of comedic relief. As the zombies multiply, the first half weaves the creepy, comical zombie video storyline expertly with Keeble's masterful live-beat looping and mixing, and locust's dynamic, powerful dancing into a cliffhanger crescendo just before the break that places dancer Ellie Sandstrom in the looming clutches of the zombies.
We expect that some of the criticism levied towards this performance will be about sensory overload--at times we felt obliged to choose what we would focus on, and with a few exceptions where we were mesmerized by what Keeble could create with only two hands and feet, we always chose the dance. Mockumentary's choreography made us laugh, shake in our seat and bob our heads, gasp openly, and drop our jaw in amazement. O'Neal's use of carefully defined space, gestural repetition, dramatic timing, and exquisite partnering created mesmerizing, powerful images that continue to replay in our head. We had difficulty focusing on anything else when Ellie Sandstrom was anywhere near the stage; her range of motion in every part of her body is super-human, and she attacks every movement she makes with fierce precision. Her duet with O'Neal at the beginning of the second half expertly blended her dynamism with O'Neal's lush, weighted easiness--it was clear these two have worked closely together for some time. Some of the group sections still had some kinks to work out, but we enjoyed watching the smaller, piecemeal gestural elements of O'Neal's choreography get stiched together and evolve into full-blown themes.
The most impressive and powerful moment involved a duet featuring a formerly obsessive-compulsive female character who was the first to be accosted by the zombie narrator, who incidentally is quixotically perplexed by his zombie state, wishing only to return to a normal human life. (His attempts at normalcy make for some of the most comedic video scenes.) As such, he knocks on her door (since when did zombies knock?), and after she evades him and eventually beats him with her belt, he runs off and she devolves into a psychic fugue. Roaming the streets she picks up a huge, extravagantly long fur coat and embarks on a spree of meaningless destruction. In one of the most imaginative and disturbing duets we've ever seen, she spends most of the time on the man's shoulders enacting what we can only best describe as a dramatic, disturbing zombie version of the childhood game "chicken," nearly toppling off him multiple times as they stutter and stumble and lurch together. At the end, still on his shoulders, she dons the gigantic floor-length coat and appears to float offstage, only to return in the second half and be nearly consumed by the coat as she writhes on the floor. She seemed to represent a human version of Queen of the Zombies, embodying a subversive human desire for destruction while she haunts the protagonists from the shadows.
If you want to know what happens to Ellie Sandstrom, you'll have to head to OtB tonight or tomorrow to find out. While you're there, keep your eyes peeled for a few other choice cameos, including a ninja with some wicked moves and an even more wicked sleep problem, and a young man who can't help but let it all hang out in public. The narrative thread may be a bit rough, but whatever you do, please laugh, gasp, and applaud more than the audience did on Friday night, this show absolutely deserves it.
add to stumble upon
add to reddit
tweet this
post to facebook
Post a comment (Comment Policy)