Playhouse, Sydney Opera House
January 10, 2012
Surprising, perplexing, tedious, provocative and amusing - but ultimately disappointing. This was my first introduction to Martin del Amo’s work and it fell well short of expectations.
At just under an hour this was on the short side for a performance but long for a solo. It was also a test of endurance for dancer Paul White, whose impressive dance ability was clear to see but not fully utilised. With incredible balance and finely tuned control he appeared 100 per cent committed. But the work itself could really have benefitted from a wider range of contrasting speed and dynamics.
Loosely based on research into Nijinsky's Afternoon of a Faun, the movement is accompanied by a sound composition from Mark Bradshaw that echoes the otherworldly mystery of Stravinsky's original score. But for the most part the solo "shifts focus away from the faun character and seeks to physically capture the elusive nature of the afternoon", as quoted from the program.
Anatomy of an Afternoon began on a darkly lit stage with the dancer standing centrally (fully dressed in a loose top and fitted jeans) and flanked on one side by three musicians, one of whom was establishing a meditative atmosphere with a Tibetan singing bowl. As the audience members took their seats and focused on the stage, the soft vibratory sound became more audible and everything else became quiet and still. The dancer remained motionless for what felt like five or 10 minutes. His first movements were a relief to an audience that was rapidly losing focus. Initially very slow, isolated movements were broken down and deconstructed so that the natural co-ordination of body parts was lost. However some co-ordination returned when White mimed a range of animals.
In one section he moved with the languorous stop-start motion of a lizard sunning itself on a flat rock in the heat of the day and in another he appeared to be chasing his tail like a dog. But most successful was his ability to capture the fluid stealth of one of the big cats. Pacing, then standing at the edge of the stage gazing coldly into the audience, it was easy to imagine one of the tigers at the zoo impatiently stalking the perimeter of their enclosure and coming right up to the glass barrier to eyeball you.
The solo could have had a menacing effect had it not been offset in the second half by the dancer’s ridiculous state of undress. With his briefs pulled so far down at the back that his buttocks were almost fully exposed, it wasn’t so much the amount of flesh but the way in which it was revealed that provoked, titillated and made the audience uncomfortable. I thought it was ridiculous, distracting and rather insultingly like being mooned, while some audience members were clearly amused, going by the giggles and chuckles I could hear.
My guess is this was a modern day tribute to the erotic scandal in the original Faun but even so it raises questions. Was it intended to be humorous or just meant to elicit a reaction - any reaction - from the audience? If the body needed to be seen in a natural state, why not just put the dancer in a flesh coloured G-string? Was this a deliberate attempt to catch the audience off guard, casting them in the role of voyeur whether they liked it or not?
I expected more given that this show was part of the Sydney Festival at an institution like the Sydney Opera House.
I’m sure some people who would enjoy Anatomy, but in my opinion the barely dressed performer is an accurate metaphor for the production as a whole - the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes.
- GERALDINE HIGGINSON