Linbury Theatre, Royal Opera House, London.
21 March 2025.
A study of physicality based on J.S.Bach’s The Art Of Fugue with live music from baroque ensemble Il Convito, Noé Soulier’s Close Up is billed to be an exploration of the different dimensions of the body and of movement.
A sedate atmosphere in the bar at the Linbury Theatre awaits the opening of the theatre doors. Gentle murmur, and a lot of eyes on phones. The beautiful dark wood theatre, set off with warm orange-gold lighting is instantly welcoming. The stage is open, a harpsichord and other instruments waiting on stage right. This is immediately pleasing as it looks probable that music and dance will share the same stage tonight.
Auditorium lights drop to illuminate the musicians who have entered the stage to warmup. Interestingly, audience chatter continues through this.
The first of six dancers enters the stage, walking from the wings towards the ensemble as they play. She is dressed casually — bare foot, jeans and a top. She begins to move to the music, in the low shadowy atmosphere. She is joined by another dancer, and then another. All dressed in a similar way, in shades of blue. They walk on, view the present dancer and join in. The fourth dancer to enter is the only male dancer in tonight’s performance.
Their interactions are interesting as they do not overtly greet, touch, or engage with one another as they enter the stage. As the production develops, so do their relationships. Freedom seems to grow between them, stronger eyeline and smiles. And a lot of anticipation – this is satisfying to watch – a breath in, sustained preparation; a glance, and then throwing of body and breath into the next movement. Musicians can be seen watching dancers the entire time. And dancers, at times also turn to connect with the ensemble.
One of the biggest impacts of this production is the contemporary dance work set against baroque music. A meeting across the centuries. It works, because anything can work if done with conviction, which they do. At times, it feels ill-matched. It is possible that is the choreographer’s intention.
There are silences between pieces of music, which does work effectively, though the breaks are rather long. Breath begins to show up as an important, then vital part of this choreography, used to shape every action either by the preparatory breath in, or the often forced, strong exhale. Particularly in the silent parts. The breath of the dancers becomes the music, and their method of communication. They use it to keep in time.
The way they dance is more fluid and flowing; there is greater depth when accompanied by the ensemble. A more sensual feel, more soul in their eyes. Falling from balances, heavy releases, fast drops to the floor, thrown-away abandoned circular movements, gasps in and purposeful exhales. Whilst their way of moving is intriguing and visual, it is not relaxing – nor did it promise to be. Listening to the 17th century compositions played live, would alone have felt soothing, absorbing, taking the listener on a journey quite different to the one experienced with contemporary movement accompanying it.
A lot of repetitive shapes and motifs appear in this choreography. There is meaning to their movements. But by the end, I long to see development.
We are left for a time with a stage empty of dance, which feels unusual but is actually a treat to watch only the musicians. There is no interval, but for Part Two the black, back curtain rises to reveal a white photographer’s backdrop centrally staged before a recording camera on a tripod, videoing the central dancer through a black frame at mid-body height.
The camera projects onto a large screen overhead. We see both the dancer in full below, and the section of their body picked up by the camera above. It’s a reminder that we are watching a creation about the different dimensions of the body. The close-up camera work identifies marks on the dancer’s skin, perspiration, a ring on a finger, lines on hands, fingernails. The projected movement above can seem very different to the objective view below. An arm, a foot, the curve of the back. There is continual play on shapes – often what looks like it is, isn’t. For example, a simple technique with one dancer standing in front of the other, appears to be one on top of the other on the screen.
Closer relationships are explored during this section. There is a slower-moving engaging piece between two female dancers to an expressive violin solo. The intertwining of their bare feet and hands, and their continual twining around one another looks quite abstract on screen.
A shorter scene using projection may have had greater impact. The photography scene is dismantled to music by the dancers and the exposed bare brick wall feels as though this breaking everything down to basics is intentional.
Six dancers return to the stage, dancing individually, but as has been apparent through the rest of the production, duets and trios begin to appear. It is fascinating to watch them emerge.
To finish, footlights at the back of the stage glow brightly for the first time, the dancers join in a short, unified section. A throwaway kick and blackout.
By Louise Ryrie of Dance Informa.
