Insights @ The Space

Since Insights refers to itself as a “choreographic platform”, one would expect its debut performance to foreground the choreography – especialy that which is new, exciting and diverse. For better or for worse, however, this is not the case: the choreography does not always take centre stage.

One of the six pieces is pure improvisation, containing no choreography at all. Two pieces are films, which, although very interesting and well done, contain very little dance, and focus more on the cinematography and the concept than on the sparse arranged routines. A similar point can be made about one of the three ‘normal’ pieces which feature live, choreographed dancing. Stand on My Hand Shirley is set in the 80s (through the costumes and songs), a time when people were told that buying things would make them happy. Through dance, music, costumes and the clever, symbolic use of televisions, the piece explores how this philosophy can feel oppressive, and what happens when you want something you can’t buy – and you’re not supposed to have.

In one section, two men participate in a strange encounter. Both long to show affection, but keep falling back on a more comfortable behaviour: fighting. This idea provides the context for some novel choreography, but sadly, the aggressive partnering looks all too familiar. Again, it appears that the choreographer put more thought into the concept than the choreography.

The powerful Tomorrow’s Realisation has a deep concept as well: that of losing somebody close to you. The dancers express the multifarious feelings this brings through dance, monologues and palpable emotion. Unlike Shirley, the concept in Tomorrow’s doesn’t detract from the choreography; instead, it gives it a structuring theme, a purpose. As the dancers contract from the core, or desperately throw themselves in one direction before suddenly catching themselves or being caught by another, their movements are imbued with significance, and the choreography is finally the centre of attention.

Unfortunately, the movements are strangely similar to those in I Climbed a Tree to See the World. Although that piece has no obvious theme, and all distractions are stripped back, leaving only choreography, dance and beautiful music, the fact that it and Tomorrow’s have such similar movement vocabulary makes it feel almost as though you are watching the same piece. In fact, the same was even true of the improvised piece Open Floor. The similarity between the movement in the three pieces no doubt springs from the fact that most of the dancers and choreographers trained on the same programme at Dundee College, and are comfortable in the same style of modern dance.

Therefore, even among the few pieces where the choreography is given centre stage, it is not, as expected, diverse, and although it is very good, with some eye-catching moments—especially in I Climbed—it doesn’t reach true excellence. But it’s hard to pinpoint why. It may be because the dancers are not at the same level as many professional dancers, and don’t show the choreography to its best advantage. The small space, complete with four obtrusive pillars, doesn’t help matters, as it confines both the dancers and the choreography. But it also seems that there is a tendency to make up for a lack of really good, pure choreography with an interesting concept, or with experimentation that challenges the norms of a dance performance. Halfway through the improvised piece, Open Floor, two dancers joined the others on stage from their seats in the audience. The dancers spoke intermittently throughout the piece, with one man pretending to whisper to a woman, who shouted “Urgh, you spit in my ear, you prick!”. Tomorrow’s ended with a woman standing on a chair in the front row of the audience, facing the people behind her and harshly ‘shhshh’ing them—although they were silent. These moments seem to be aiming to shock and unsettle rather than to express anything meaningful.
Thankfully, these moments are overshadowed by the rest of the programme, in which the dancers express genuine emotion. In Tomorrow’s, Harriet Stell — who always demands attention when on stage — is especially arresting as she howls in utter anguish, falling to the floor and writhing, distraught.

This sense of humanity and genuine emotion, that all the dancers excel in expressing, is Insights’ strongest asset. The dancers manage to seem like normal people, who go through the same emotions as the audience—making the performance accessible and immediate. This feeling is emphasised by the small space, without curtains or elaborate lighting, and by the appearance of the dancers, with their hair down, and in costumes that you could wear on the street. Although the choreography, in general, fails to be really exciting, or really beautiful, or really innovative—and is definitely not really diverse—the refreshing intimacy and humanity results in a very good, enjoyable performance.