‘MARS’
Choreography: Lior Tavori.
Suzanne Dellal Center, May 23
Two creations were presented side by side, each with its own artistic climate, yet both offered layered works representing Lior Tavori’s thinking process, which slowly reveals itself.
The first, And Over Again, is a duet danced by Shahar Brenner and Noam Segal, both dressed in mundane clothes, buried under a pile of what seem to be red and black boxing gloves, while an old kitsch song carries a message of peace that may arrive tomorrow. Or the next day.
What a chilling moment when current reality meets head-on a stale yet popular military-march tune of yesteryear.
The duet itself steers away from national issues and concentrates on more intimate issues of two torn souls – most likely post-traumatic – searching for elusive moments of human contact, well-illustrated by sensitive physical manifestations interrupted by moving the limbs in staccato on the verge of a breakdown.
Both dancers are impressive but the female role seems to carry more weight. The work is well composed and follows a distinct artistic path that is impressive in its details and carried with touching modesty.
Mars, which follows, starts as a rather simplistic unit of four vital male dancers flexing their muscles, showing off some jumps in an athletic style. When they move in tight formations they tend to favor symmetrical compositions. Yet soon, the more they play around together, their individuality comes across quite clearly. The scent of self-awareness with a faint flavor of parody spreads, mixed with dry humor in small measures.
As time passes, more and more sophisticated nuances reveal themselves and the fiber that holds the core of the artistic structure is exposed slowly, revealing bright, inventive gestures and compositions.
The unequivocal high point of the evening was an unexpected rendition of The Dying Swan, an iconic short, classical romantic ballet, choreographed by M. Fokin for the legendary Anna Pavlova, which culminated the romantic notion of spiritual, unattainable femininity. Yet here, one of the dancers gives a far-fetched rendition, crude and far away from the sublime, yet still challenging solo. Even so, some moves and gestures by the strong dancer fleetingly refer to the delicate original creation. One may take it as a satire, as a disrespectful stance, but although it definitely is a tongue-in-cheek scene, it was totally within the restrained humor of Tavori’s lexicon.
The finale that closed the evening was a twirling storm of powerful moving circles by the quartet, which swept the audience and gave the dancers a justified standing ovation.