Secret Origins: Radical Japanese cinema of the 1960s and 1970s chez Jonas Mekas

By Paul Ben-Itzak
Copyright 2013, 2019 Paul Ben-Itzak

First published on the DI/AV on February 14, 2013. Today’s re-posting is sponsored by Slippery Rock University Dance.

If you think Butoh is the excruciatingly slow (or delectably languorous, depending on your point of view) dance interpreted by performers doused in flour that its Western acolytes have laid claim to with Zen-like fervor and wonder why this post-Hiroshima and Nagasaki art form was once called the ‘dance of darkness,’ Donald Richie’s 1959 “Sacrifice / Gisei,” being screened Sunday February 24 at Anthology Film Archives as part of its mini-festival of Film Experiments in 1960-70s Japan (meant to coincide with the Museum of Modern Art’s Tokyo 1955 – 1970: A New Avant-Garde exhibition closing Monday), will set you straight. The dance captured here is neither slow nor nuanced. Indeed, in a response typical of an ignorant Western critic, when the 8mm to video 10-minute piece opened (American so-called Butoh interpreters would take 10 minutes just to move a muscle), the performers running in circles and lifting their arms over alternating shoulders moved so gracelessly that at first I mistook the choreography for a paltry Japanese imitation of Judson, before I read the press release and realized that this Butoh authentically captured reveals the opposite, how diluted the ‘dance of darkness’ has become as it’s been transmitted by generations of non-Japanese interpreters. Click here to read the rest of the story.

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Anarchism at the Musée d’Orsay

Orsay Feneon Vallatton smallFrom the exhibition Les temps nouveaux, de Seurat à Matisse, opening October 16 at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, where it runs through January 27 and playing at the Museum of Modern Art March 22 through July 20: Félix Vallotton, “The Anarchist,” 1892. Engraving on wood, 17.1 × 25 cm. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.  © Photo Bibliothèque nationale de France. To read more about anarchism — of all stripes — click here to check out our excerpt from Michel Ragon’s novel “La mémoire des vaincus” (The Book of the Vanquished) on our sister magazine the Maison de Traduction or see below.

Remembering Robert Frank Remembering America

Bus-Stop, Detroit 1955From the Arts Voyager Archives: Robert Frank, “Bus-Stop,” Detroit, 1955. Courtesy of the artist and Collection Fotostiftung Schweiz. Robert Frank died Monday at the age of 94. Commenting over Radio France on why, in his opinion, Frank’s photography of the United States is not better known in the United States, French photographer Raymond Depardon opined, “The Americans don’t like to regard themselves.” So there, Monsieur Depardon. (To regard more of Frank’s regard of the United States in the 1950s, Americans and readers of other nationalities are invited to regard below.)

A helluva year for dance: An American on 42nd St. — At Home with David Dorfman

By Maura Nguyen Donohue
Copyright 2004, 2019 Maura Nguyen Donohue

Celebrating 20 years online as the leading  magazine for the dance profession, the DI is re-visiting 2004, a helluva year for dance and for the DI. As a distillation of American post-modern at the dawn of the new millenium, this one, first published on March 26, should be required reading at college dance departments. To learn how to obtain your own complete copy of the DI Archive, with more than 2,000 critiques of performances, exhibitions, books, and films from five continents since 1998 by 150 critics, e-mail paulbenitzak@gmail.com . Today’s re-posting is sponsored by Slippery Rock University Dance.

NEW YORK — I’ve been thinking a lot about American-ness lately. Actually, I think about American-ness all the time but having been enmeshed in an international collaboration with a troupe from Vietnam for the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about it as related to contemporary dance. Last night, as part of the 10th anniversary season of the 92nd St. Y Harkness Dance Project at the Duke on 42nd Street, David Dorfman Dance provided me with the example I want to cite the next time I have to describe American dance to an Asian peer. We are deep and humorous, adamantly informal and absolute mad dog dancers.

Before the show David Dorfman works the crowd, wandering amidst the audience, saying hellos and pressing flesh like the affable mayor of Danceville. The dancers are warming up on a bare stage that has been stripped to the walls to resemble a working studio. Dorfman later says this choice reflects the disproportionate nature of brief performances versus months of rehearsal. It is most appropriate here, where so much of the process is part of the work.

“Lightbulb Theory,” a premiere, begins with a solo for Dorfman. He walks across the stage, Michael Wall begins playing the piano and I feel a rush of pride or delight or anticipation. I want to nudge my Vietnamese collaborators with a “yeah dawg, you’ll see, we come in all shapes and sizes here.” Dorfman can stun any noviate to modern dance. He’s the sneaky Average Joe who looks like a linebacker and creates work with overwhelming craft. Of course, this crafty choreographer’s greatest gift may be his cultivation of excellent collaborators, primarily dancers. This company could represent a utopian vision of dance-making where dancers are fully creative artists, credited as collaborators and allowed their individuality.

After Dorfman reads a passage referring to fathers and sons, Paul Matteson, Heather McArdle, Jennifer Nugent and Joseph Paulson are revealed first on the backstage balcony performing a post-modern kick line. After then entering through the upstage left door they begin a quartet quietly, as Paulson pounds his fists, reflecting an internal stress. A bright dance follows with a series of movement phrases and marching punctuated by the women’s giddy squeals and shouts of “Wow!” The dancers repeatedly ask us if we’ve heard the two different theories about light bulbs: Some are said to flicker before they go out and some just go out. The text is returned to several times in impressive solos by each dancer, along with the question of whether it is “better for a life, I mean light, to flicker or just go out” and in the midst of infectious dance I’m pondering grief and loss.

Dorfman’s dances can race past you. There are rushes of sweeping movement that flow over you so that in reflection you only remember sparks. It’s appropriate, because Nugent is explosive. She sweeps and kicks and drops with ferocious glee. She is powerful, strong and flexible, cute and sexy. She’s the dancer I want to be when I grow up. When she’s paired with Matteson, the two become a new entity, one creature rabidly devouring the space in a series of thrilling weight shifts.

The evening’s second work and premiere, “Impending Joy,” has an entirely different tone. Chris Peck’s electronic score, also performed live, is a sonic assault. This landscape is painful as compared to the nostalgic feeling evoked by the piano of “Lightbulb Theory.” A pile of wire netting and pickets from a fence sits downstage center. The other dancers pile Paulson with pickets and urge him out of the space. He begins a solo full of direct movement, sharp slices and aggressive drops while Matteson, McArdle and Nugent stand in half of the stage washed in red light, designed by Josh Epstein. Paulson throws himself at Matteson even after Matteson has vacated the space. Then he pathetically drops pickets across the stage. Matteson performs a constricted, distressed solo gesturing to his gut and reaching away while speaking phrases and partial phrases like “You deserve to be” and “You will die.”

There is an automated rigor to the dancing that serves as an enjoyable companion to the expansiveness of the first work. As the piece draws to a conclusion, each dancer pulls parts of the fence apart. Nugent is wrapped in the fence; McAdle winds the metal wire around herself and the men struggle with piles of pickets. As Nugent delivers a series of lines beginning with “This is where…,” a last light cue of red on the balcony sets a hallucinatory tone and I suddenly glimpse the special little hell that home ownership can offer.

David Dorfman Dance continues at the Duke Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2 & 7 p.m. There is no show Friday.

Click here to read about Maura Nguyen Donohue / In Mixed Company.

Did she risk her life for governments that enslave women? — Guerrilla Girls in the MoMA temple, and not a minute too soon

moma guerrilla girlsBarbarians in the Temple: The question of whether it’s good news or bad news that the Guerrilla Girls — who for three decades have made their name on storming the high temples of Modern Art that wouldn’t voluntarily open their doors for women — are now being featured in an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art has been obviated by the immediacy of the work in question, “Did She Risk Her Life For Governments That Enslave Women?,” above, in the light of this week’s news that Donald Trump’s government is apparently preparing to hand the keys to Afghanistan back to the Taliban, more than 3,000 American and countless Afghan lives later. Poster, 1991 (!), 22 x 17 inches (55.9 x 43.2 cm). Courtesy guerrillagirls.com, © Guerrilla Girls, and featured in the exhibition Theater of Operations: The Gulf Wars, 1991–2011, opening November 2 and running through March 1 at the PS 1 space of…  the Museum of Modern Art. — Paul Ben-Itzak  

“Never Again” to concentration camps: Americans 1941, Immigrants 2019

lange camps child small

Dorothea Lange Manzanar Relocation CenterNever Again: During World War II, 120,000 Japanese-Americans were imprisoned in 700 concentration camps and “re-location centers” including Manzanar Relocation Center, captured above in bottom photo by Dorothea Lange (on assignment for the U.S. government; the top photo of a child en route for a camp is also by Lange) and Fort Sill in Oklahoma, where the Indian leader Geronimo had also been imprisoned and Indian children forced into government-operated schools after being wrested from their parents. On Saturday, as reported by Democracy Now, five survivors of those camps and their supporters demonstrated at Fort Sill to protest plans by the Trump administration to lock up 1,400 immigrant children there beginning in July, with one survivor proclaiming “Never again.”