“Morning Song,” which opens Wednesday for four
performances in the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Next Wave
Festival, begins with several people sitting on stools
chatting into microphones. This informal talk-show panel
shifts into singing an intense rock song. A single woman
dances to the bleating of an alarm clock. A tall man in a bear
suit puts in an appearance, and an aromatic meal is cooked and
consumed onstage in the course of the performance, which was
created by Flemish theater director Jan Lauwers and his
international ensemble Needcompany.
Out of these vaudevillean
fragments (the director calls the piece a “burlesque”)
emerges, almost by surprise, a concrete narrative: an
idealistic freedom fighter named Harry (played by the charming
Argentine actor Gonzalo Cunill) marries into the aristocratic
Grandiflora family, and just as he’s about to join the
revolution in Nicaragua in 1973, he dies of cancer at the age
of 34 as a result of having eaten some radioactive snow as an
eight-year-old boy in Prague. “The play takes place in
heaven,” Mr. Lauwers explained in a telephone interview from
Brussels, “and all of the characters are dead.” Death, it
seems, is a cabaret, and the MC turns out to be flamboyant
materfamilias Liliane Grandiflora (played by Viviane De Muynck,
an esteemed Belgian stage actress of, say, Judi Dench’s
caliber).
In most conventional theater,
the audience can tell from the look of the set and the first
minute of dialogue what universe the play exists in. Whether
it’s kitchen-sink realism or absurdist farce or musical
comedy, you can relax into knowing what you’re watching. In
the kind of performance collage “Morning Song”
exemplifies, the form is kept loose and shifting. Fragments of
speech, dance, and music drift like smoke, billowing then
evanescing. Without a recognizable form to cling to, the
audience has two options. You can become anxious and irritated
and decide there’s something wrong with the show. Or you can
surrender preconceived notions of theater and simply
experience what unfolds, which is the invitation that
Needcompany extends.
Needcompany emerged in the
mid-1980s as part of the same gigantic burst of Flemish
performance energy that brought such choreographers as Anne
Teresa de Keersmaker and Wim Vandekeybus to international
attention. The Flemish scene has developed a core of highly
skilled, multidisciplinary, multinational performers who
migrate from company to company. Italian-born Carlotta Sagna,
who performs in “Morning Song” and collaborated with Mr.
Lauwers on the choreography, has danced with Ms. de
Keersmaker’s company Rosas. The Spanish dancer Eduardo
Torroja appeared in Mr. Vandekeybus’s first piece, “What
the Body Does Not Remember,” and now works with Needcompany.
In addition, Needcompany
members have spun off their own projects. Viviane DeMuynck,
who has won acclaim in Belgium for her performance as Martha
in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” as well as
classical roles, has staged Molly Bloom’s soliloquy from
James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” which she performed twice last
week at Performance Space 122 in New York. And Indonesian-born
Grace Ellen Barkey, who has contributed choreography for
several Needcompany productions (as well as raising two
children with Mr. Lauwers), creates work under own name. Her
latest piece, a hip-hop adaptation of Bela Bartok’s “The
Miraculous Mandarin,” plays the last of four performances at
P.S. 122 tonight. (“Morning Song” and “The Miraculous
Mandarin” are being presented in New York as part of the
three-week citywide festival New Europe ‘99, which was
designed to expose New York audiences to a new generation of
European performing artists.)
It’s no accident that these
artists came from Belgium, often called “the crossroads of
Europe.” Their work reflects the dark, philosophical
ferociousness of young people from an old industrial society
struggling to create life among the ruins. As the map of
Europe has been redrawn, obliterating some national
distinctions and reinforcing others, the artists have been
knocking down the borders between the disciplines of theater,
dance, and music.
The rich, visually oriented
postmodern dance-theater of Pina Bausch has been a major
influence on this younger generation of European performance
artists, but so have American avant-garde artists. Mr. Lauwers
admits that he’s never quite gotten over seeing the Wooster
Group’s “L.S.D. (Just the High Points),” which began
with a panel of actors reading from Beat Generation texts,
proceeded with a scrambled rendition of Arthur Miller’s play
“The Crucible” interspersed with reminiscences from
Timothy Leary’s babysitter, and ended with a wacky Mexican
hat dance. Needcompany’s first production, the 1987 “Need
to Know” (which played at the Kitchen in New York the
following year), was an almost slavish homage to the Wooster
Group with its collage structure, giddy energy, and fragmented
use of classic dramatic texts.
Much as he reveres the
Wooster Group and its director Elizabeth LeCompte, Mr. Lauwers
feels that his work is now very different from theirs.
“It’s the difference between the United States and
Europe,” he said. “Silence is very important in my work. i
try to freeze time. I try to find the moment where time stops.
I have the feeling that silence is dangerous in the United
States. Certainly for New Yorkers.”
Another point of departure
from the Wooster Group is his relationship to American pop
culture. “I had a conversation once with Liz about the
contradiction between the American culture that I like --
hiphop music and the films of John Cassevetes -- and the stuff
that is imposed on us as Europeans, such as McDonald’s and
Coca-Cola. She said, ‘I love McDonald’s! I love MTV! I
hate your (expletive) Renaissance paintings!’”
Trained as a painter himself,
Mr. Lauwers considers himself primarily a maker of images that
carry the weight of narrative or meaning. He has approached
storytelling slowly from a great distance. Since “Need to
know,” he has applied his image-making skills both to
adaptations of Shakespeare (“Julius Caesar,” “Antony and
Cleopatra,” and “Macbeth”) as well as to original work,
most notably “The Snakesong Trilogy.” The trilogy was
created between 1994 and 1996, “when there were a lot of
wars going on,” Mr. Lauwers said. “I could jump in my car
and eight hours later be in a war zone.” It was, he said,
“a very black piece. After that I wanted to make something
to find humor again.”
Although he acknowledges that
the text of “Morning Song” is quite bleak, the title and
the burlesque tone of the piece are meant to suggest the
courage and (to use a phrase from Milan Kundera) the
“unbearable lightness” it takes to get up in the morning
not knowing which day will be your last. (Mr. Lauwers
indicated that someone close to him was recently diagnosed
with cancer but declined to supply details.)
“Morning Song” is a
companion piece to a production of Albert Camus’s
“Caligula” which Mr. Lauwers presented in a museum lecture
hall. “In Camus’s play, Caligula says, ‘People die and
are unhappy,’ and one of his advisors replies, ‘This truth
does not prevent people from enjoying a delicious meal,’”
Mr. Lauwers said. “I took only that sentence and put it to
use in ‘Morning Song.’ Whatever happens in the world, we
enjoy a good meal.”
The way the actors in
“Morning Song” directly address the audience -- a
Needcompany signature -- is also a very European trademark,
observes Mark Russell, artistic director of Performance Space
122, one that he connects with Flemish director Ivo von
Hove’s recent staging of “A Streetcar Named Desire” at
New York Theater Workshop. “Both Jan and Ivo address the
contemporary world with classic texts, making them really
fresh,” said Mr. Russell. “They don’t do it in that
corny American way of setting ‘Julius Caesar’ in South
America. They let the text become present. That’s the thing
European theater makers took from dance and performance art.
We feel those actors are in the same room with us, and
they’re using these texts almost as if they’re rituals.”
The presence of the actors is
extremely personal to Mr. Lauwers. When I first encountered
him at an arts festival in Italy in 1987. I asked him why he
called his troupe Needcompany, and he said, “Because I need
company.” I reminded him of that conversation when we spoke
recently and asked him if he still needed company. After a
brief but thoughtful pause, he said, “Unfortunately, yes.”
New York Times, October 24,
1999
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