The Israeli choreographer Emanuel Gat presents “LOVETRAIN2020,” a work set to hits by the British duo, for his company’s Brooklyn Academy of Music debut.
It’s true that we are living in a very, very mad world, as the Tears for Fears song goes, surrounded by “worn-out places, worn-out faces.” It’s also true enough that the faces of the dancers in Emanuel Gat’s “LOVETRAIN2020,” set to songs by the British duo, are strangely worn away, too. What’s the difference? Their faded, washed-out expressions are not the result of stress and hardship, but by two enduring tricks of the theater: lights and fog.
Sometimes a confluence of music and dance is the tonic you didn’t know you needed. When the show began — “Ideas as Opiates” flowing into “The Prisoner” and, a bit later, “Mad World” — what came with it was the sensation of a fresh surprise, a flamboyant dance in the form of an encouraging pick-me-up. Sadly, that feeling didn’t last long. Gat’s train started to stutter midway through, and by the end, even the dancers’ joyful twirls and smiles couldn’t disguise that it had conked out.
For its Brooklyn Academy of Music debut on Thursday, Emanuel Gat Dance made for a striking sight initially as its 14 members, draped in Thomas Bradley’s textural costumes — voluminous and elegant, shape-shifting and fantastical — slowly took over the stage. They created a glittering community, a world in which it seemed like the past was facing its future.
The stage, too, glowing in a chiaroscuro treatment of light and shadows, had a way of transporting the landscape into a painting, just as it transformed the dancers, dripping in fabric, from two-dimensional silhouettes — they entered from the back of a hazy stage through narrow panels and stood with their backs to us — into moving sculptures. Their skin was luminous, their taut muscles sinewy.
Often, there was push and pull between the rhythm of the music and pace of the dancing; sometimes Gat rejected the beat, and in other moments, embraced it. In one scene, a soloist contorted his body ever-so-slowly at the front of the stage, while a row of dancers were planted behind him, shifting from side to side in a basic step touch while arranging their arms in unison positions: up in the air, one elbow bent, one hand behind the head. It had a certain groove.
But gradually it became clear that there was little beneath the ornate mood-board appeal of “LOVETRAIN” to warrant its length. The dancers’ physicality was arresting as they torqued their backs and torsos, melting onto the floor and swooping back up again with a feverish vivacity. Yet as Gat’s groupings persisted — a trio here, a more concentrated cluster there, a lone dancer running into the center of it all to deliver a little wiggle — the repetitiveness of their high kicks, raveling and unraveling arms and speedy, purposeful walks on and off the stage started to blur together.
The dusky lighting, so startling at first, became increasingly murky. And Gat’s frequent silent sections — initially giving the setting a kind of haunting, heartbreaking poignancy — turned ponderous. In those quiet moments, I yearned for another Tears for Fears song until I realized just how repetitive “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” is. Don’t even get me started on “Shout.” Was this a missed opportunity, or is Tears for Fears music for the elliptical?
But why did this dance happen in the first place? Gat, an Israeli choreographer who formed his company in Tel Aviv — it is now based in France — created it during the darker moments of the pandemic, when audiences needed a release. The world was crying. His musical choice made sense: Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith, of Tears for Fears, met in Bath, England, when they were 13 and living in single-parent homes, according to a program note. They named their band after the concept of primal therapy, which focuses, in part, on repressed emotions from childhood: Tears are a replacement for fears.
As the show progresses, emotions build through the songs’ lyrics and the dancers’ silky, sinuous power, but Gat’s choreographic frame is too tenuous. Dancers, full of finesse and drive but little urgency, travel up and down the same diagonal; they gesture toward the audience with outstretched, beckoning hands. They rarely seem to be dancing on a precipice.
Doesn’t surviving — and dancing through a pandemic — take courage? “LOVETRAIN” is neither daring nor especially passionate. It’s a look. The lighting, by Gat with technical direction and supervision by Guillaume Février, is the show, and the choreography, trapped in a haze of lights and fabric, never rises above it.
Emanuel Gat Dance
Through Saturday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music; bam.org
Source: Music - nytimes.com
