Hatred Of Music. - Review - dance review

Dance Magazine, Sept, 2000 by Irene Wydler-Roth

HATRED OF MUSIC
PHILIPPE SAIRE COMPANY
THEATERHAUS GESSNERALLEE
ZURICH, SWITZERLAND
MAY 12, 2000

On an aggressively illuminated circle in the darkened stage, a fancy-dressed male singer screams, "Why should we be apart?" A complete silence follows, a vacuum. Only a monitor onstage indicates the flow of time.

The same happens for a female singer.

Four dancers, one by one, start moving slowly, noiselessly. With sudden, strident sounds, seven more dancers join them in dramatic propulsion. Silence.

The dancers' respiration becomes audible, forming an initial rhythm, adopted progressively by clapping of hands, slapping of bodies, whistling, rhythm and sounds. Silence.

Sudden tones of an electrical guitar stimulate the bodies and initiate erratic, exhausting movements. Silence, no motion.

The company starts a barefoot stamping on the floor. Silence.

The whole is illustrated by great video projections and shadows of the dancers. Tension lies in the air, conflicts, contrasts everywhere: silence--sounds; rest--activity; light--darkness; narration--abstraction; intellect--sensuousness; harmony--aggression.

Swiss choreographer Philippe Saire understands his work as "a journey to the unrecognized shores of perception," as a question on the origins of music, as a response to today's hyper-irritation of the ears. This theme, though more intellectual than sensory, appears appropriate to a choreographic transposition. Saire realizes it in a personal, inventive motion-language, without any cliche, subtlety or precision.

The eleven athletic, versatile dancers meet the manifold demands perfectly, with a convincing presence in the moments of silence, stimulated, excited and even terrorized as soon as the sounds start. They all should be named, but Sun-Hye Hur, Nabih Amaraoul and Hideto Heshiki correspond especially to the poetry of silence that is so important to Philippe Saire.