Friday 3 November 2017

The Anjali Dance Company presents Genius at The House, Plymouth, 25th October 2017

Frisson: a sudden, passing sensation of excitement; a shudder of emotion; thrill – something I was not expecting when I sat down to the Anjali Dance Company’s production of ‘Genius’. The company comprised of performers with various learning disabilities whose goal it is to break the stereotypes and perceptions of people with such disabilities through performance. Given the opportunity, their creativity and talent was allowed to shine through in the most amazing ways, and created the aforementioned ‘frisson’. Their unique and, often times, haunting use of sound, staging, and bodily interaction in ‘Genius’ created a professional performance that gave me chills.
In the brief first half, the six performers, all pale-faced, dressed in black, and gloved in blood, performed an amusing rendition of the big screen’s Nosferatu. Each would enter a small section of the stage, surrounded by iridescent tinsel curtains, to an eerily rising note, and perform their simple sketch (often involving bloodsucking) before exiting as the sound cut out. The repetition of the sketches felt very much like film takes, the pattern only broken when part of the curtain was accidentally pulled down, creating a break in the wall of indistinct silhouettes that stood on the other side.
For the second half, however, a contemporary rendition of the life of Beethoven was performed. This utilised stage lighting, voiceover, and the music of Mozart (and, of course, Beethoven himself) for dramatic effect. Since none of the performers ever spoke, all their emotion had to be conveyed through body language, thus the music became their conductor: reaching, holding one another, falling, and crawling across the floor. Scenes of performance and death featured heavily, the one slowly bleeding into the other, so that a celebratory effusion of white roses became a delicate cascade of red petals onto a fallen body. It was such poetry in motion that I felt myself tearing up a little. The grandeur of Beethoven’s music which made me realise just how perfect this story was for the stage – as well as why the protagonist of Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange got such a kick out of the music. I had those beautifully intense and melancholic compositions to thank for several moments of frisson.
Of course, this whole thing would not have been possible without the co-ordinated efforts of the six performers. True to the company’s aim, they danced with a grace and dedication which belied any previously held beliefs one might have had about those with Down’s syndrome, autism, or other learning disability. They exuded an energy which never seemed to fail, a personality which engaged with their characters and struck a balance between humour and solemnity which kept the pacing fresh. Knowing this was a life story, it undoubtedly had to end. However, the final laying to rest of Ludwig van Beethoven, clutching a small bouquet of white flowers, was no less desired than the fact that it signalled the end of the show.

I wish Anjali Dance Company all the best with their future performances! 

No comments:

Post a Comment