Dance review: FALL SEASON PREMIERES - Clipa Theater

Theater (photo credit: INGIMAGE / ASAP)
(photo credit: INGIMAGE / ASAP)
Fall season at Clipa Theater resonated strongly, following new creations by artists associated with Clipa and guests, curated by artistic director Idit Herman. The best among them followed the company’s consistent genre of Visual Theater, an approach bordering on dance, theatrical and visual elements, with a strong narrative subtext and bold physical expressions, akin in spirit to what we now label performance art.
Having seen four out of five creations by Lee Meir and Meital Raz, Dror Liberman, Kazuyo Shionoiri and Oded Tzadok and Ariel Bronz, I believe this fall season deserves praise. First, for the works’ specific merits and second for providing exposure for relatively low-profile but talented artists, which spiced things up.
Watching Dror Liberman’s Not Soft and Not Light was a revelation. The title refers to his dance as a non-linear biographical diary. With his keen sense of humor, razor-sharp observations and cat alley instincts, he supplied some of the most hilarious moments one could hope to see in a dance performance, as well as truly touching, candid moments.
His cohesively crafted choreography supported this talented performer. He liberally exposed his scars, weaknesses, cravings and delights. It was definitely one of the most invigorating performance I’ve seen for months.
Closely behind him was a smart and delightfully clever duet This is How We Do It by Kazuyo Shionoiri and Oded Tzadok, based on their daily routines performed in fast-forward mode. Timed to perfection, the couple zoomed in and out of their kitchen, shower, bedroom and TV retreat. In sync like a Swiss clock, the duo managed to insert insightful comments on life and death, preparing for the worst. They supplied intricate content through busy movements and buzzing mumblings. This impressive couple handed us precision, humor, cleverness, imagination and a most original physical display.
Ariel Bronz, known for provocative displays, came on stage as a volunteering, self-appointed “aliya agent” in Love The Juice – dangerously close to “Love the Jews.” In his suitcase were all the props needed to crush everything we knew about the national vision, Zionism, education’s achievements, camaraderie, gender issues, the ethos and the myths of the army, accompanied by chopping up Jaffa oranges and squeezing the enemy’s blood, sorry, orange juice.
Sometimes he got carried away by his own energy, splitting his artistic focus and employing too many dramatic tools at once. Yet one couldn’t take one’s eyes off that conniving chameleon who eventually, literally, led the audience outside, to the street.
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