Back when we were in college, one of our favorite theatre professors down at the University of Oregon was Grant McKernie. McKernie was an expert in experimental theatre and performance, and would occasionally tear up while recounting a particularly moving production by someone like Eimuntas Nekrošius. The challenge he always faced was convincing skeptical students that radical experimentation in performance wasn't just weirdness for weirdness's sake, or vapid pretension masquerading as high-brow art, but that in fact it could be extremely liberating. As he put it once, "Sometimes, you just need a camel to walk across the stage for no reason."
Attending the Northwest New Works Festival at On the Boards on Saturday, we tried to keep that in mind. A veritable who's who of Pacific Northwest performing artists set out to present challenging new work in experimental performance. Some of it was good, some was incomprehensible, and, surprisingly, very little of it was awful.
In terms of sheer ambition, Portland's Liminal Performance Group takes the cake with The Theory of Love. More than any other group, Liminal integrated technology and mixed-media deep into their performance, so that the performers were interacting constantly, in diverse ways, with video, still images, music, and more quotidian props. The piece takes as its subject love, in all its diverse forms and representations, collecting not just opera arias and pop song lyrics but classical poetry, erotic painting, biological research and archaeological finds. Two lecturers take turns narrating such information or singing more or less a capella songs, set to a rough techno soundtrack. A group of three helpers take turns singing back-up or further demonstrating concepts by drawing them out on an easel. The sum total of the performance seems to be to present this massive topic of love, so that the viewer is overwhelmed with the enormity of what is one of our deepest and most widely shared experiences. At the same time, it struck us as a pretty cerebral approach to a pretty instinctual subject. But again, points for ambition and execution.
For our money, our favorite performance was by another Portland troupe, Hand2Mouth Theatre. A troupe of performers working in music, clowning, and comic performance, they were definitely a crowd pleaser. Repeat After Me is a work roughly based on what it means to be American. The performers wear various stars and stripes-themed costumed. They sing songs like "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" and "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue." They have a pie eating contest only to follow it with a re-enactment of Abu Ghraib prison-torture. By turns funny and troubling, despite a lack of plot or narrative, the performance holds together around its malleable concept.
A group working in a similar vein, Seattle's Helsinki Syndrome, wasn't as successful. Main Event lacked a cohesive central concept (at least insofar as we could discern, unless you count their own description as "a show about life) and was subsequently harder to get into. The performers were definitely up to snuff though, and technical aspects of the show--particularly the use of a parachute to various ends--was more ambitions than what we saw of Hand2Mouth. Like Hand2Mouth, Helsinki Syndrome directly engaged the audience, creating a sort of pep rally dynamic with the performers as the cheerleaders or pep squad. But despite strong performers and occasionally hilarious (and one rather shocking) bits, it didn't seem to entirely come together.
The two crowd-pleasers on the bill were David Schmader and SuttonBeresCuller. Schmader, an editor at The Stranger, monologist, and noted Showgirls commentator, entertained the audience for about a half an hour, but his new show, Litter, doesn't seem to break a lot of new ground. It included an analysis of a movie (Primary Colors) and a tragic anecdote about being young and gay and in Texas. A crowd pleaser and perfectly entertaining, but hardly groundbreaking. As for SuttonBeresCuller's Ten to Six, it was incredibly entertaining theatre, incorporating video, live music, masks and surrealism. Every element was executed brilliantly (particularly the mask-work, which--if you're a theatre person--you will nerdily appreciate), but on the whole we walked out wishing that these great artists would take their skills and tackle a traditional play with them. As it was, Ten to Six was entertaining, but was really thin on narrative and theme (basically, it plays as an old man's dream sequence). Not a substantial complaint, really, but we want to see more--a lot more--of this sort of work, as it would add a lot to the dryer fare on stage at places like Seattle Rep.
Local choreographer Paige Barnes and her troupe The Grizzlies delivered a performance that left us with mixed feelings. On the whole, the movement was incredible, Barnes and her main co-performer did some incredible work, particularly a long, fairly sexy bit where--limbs intertwined--the moved slowly across the stage. The end, however, was a little less impressive--aptly described by our guest as "the revenge of MS Paint," the final sequence pits the two dances, now naked, against a projected backdrop as a computer project laces lines and swooshes of color across them. The tableau then breaks down, the musical mix descending into computer melt-down sounds, as the performers twitch and gyrate.
The Pullman-based collaborative duo of dancer/choreographer Kerry Parker and composer Kevin Kovalchik, in contrast, delivered one of the most impressive dance pieces we've seen. Parker's movements were incredible--slowly and elegantly moving across the stage performing Persephone's Descent into the underworld, joined part-way through by a second talented dancer, Andrea Sheridan. Kovalchik's minimalist score was extremely effective, and a welcome respite from pre-recorded dj mixes, otherwise the order of the day.
And then there was Selfick Ng-Simancas's Moon, of which the less said, the better. We won't go too far into it, suffice it to say that (a) there seemed to be a whole lot of performers on the stage not doing anything except slightly gyrating large golden leaves strapped to their back; (b) while no doubt physically difficult, pushing one's prostrate body across the whole diagonal length of the stage one achingly slow foot-kick at a time is not that interesting to watch; and (c) if the piece you're working on is indistinguishable from a mocking sitcom version of performance art, perhaps you should head back to the drawing board.
Image from SuttonBeresCuller's Ten to Six.

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with all due respect, i think you're lack of knowledge on dance history makes you a very poor candidate for any kind of critique on the matter. however, though i do agree with some of the content of this review. a little conservative perhaps (or maybe just liberal.)