Every fall for the last eleven years, a festival of new and experimental dance has lifted the staid English dance scene out of its usual routine and given the more adventurous members of its audience something exciting to cheer about. A vital showcase for performers and groups which would otherwise rarely, if ever, be seen in this country, Dance Umbrella now occupies an important position in Britain's performing arts calendar. The range of activity it embraces gives the viewer an intriguing insight into the latest developments in choreography both at home and abroad.
This year's Umbrella lasted seven weeks; it packed five different London theaters and stretched as far a field as Manchester and Bristol. While the Royal Ballet was serving up the old-fashioned exoticism of LaBayadere, groups from England, France, America, and Japan stripped modern dance down to its barebones. Dancers from the Royal Ballet's companies and school came together under the Umbrella with examples of their work as choreographers; platform performances highlighted new pieces by independent British choreographers, several to a program; the French Institute mounted an exhibition entitled Cocteauet la Danse, featuring photos, designs, two films, and a video; and classes, workshops, and discussions blossomed all over town.
Current Gallic Style
Since the festival this year turned its brightest spotlight on modern dance from France - acknowledging both the Bicentennial of the Revolution and the recent burst of original choreographic activity there - I made a point of seeing three of the five visiting groups. To the best of those, the Group Emile Dubois, fell the honor of opening the entire festival, and Jean-Claude Gallotta's hour-long Mammame gave the eager crowd a spectacular introduction to current Gallic style and sensibility in dance.
Despite Gallotta's declaration that dance provided him with " a means of expression that brought together, paining, gesture, and music," Mammame relied on gesture alone -unadorned, realistic move - unadorned, realistic movements arranged as games, caresses, or calisthenics - for its overall effect. The eight dancers looked like ordinary people - one of the four men was bald, another was graying and wore glasses - but they seemed inexhaustible. They shouted, they leapfrogged, they shouted, they leapfrogged, they lifted each other, they outlined fist-fights, lovers' quarrels, and tender seductions. Phrases and patterns were repeated, altered by a single count or titled at an angle. Short sequences developed into canons, striding groups passed through each other and then melted smoothly into unison.
Energy Without Purpose
Given the waywardness of the music (jazz and rock by Henry Torgue and Serge Houppin and amplified chants, counts and whispers by Gallotta) you marveled that the dancers could navigate so much material without putting a foot wrong. But eventually that they did it became more interesting than what they did. The strongest impression finally was one of energy but no purpose, sentiment but no emotion, and when each section was reprised in seconds just before the final blackout you realized that Gallotta's whole strength lay in structure rather than content. The organization was everything.
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