the smell of the rose
by
Douglas Messerli
Sebastian
Hernandez Hypanthium / the
performance I saw was at REDCAT (the Roy and Edna Disney/Cal Arts Theater) on
January 24th with Pablo Capra
Choreographer
Sebastian Hernandez’s work Hypanthium
(the word refers the heart of the rose which contains the nectar) primarily
represents a kind of sexual ménage à trois between three individuals whom she
describes as “gender non-conforming people, femmes, trans people and women who
continue to express who they truly are regardless of patriarchy’s prevalence
and constant policing of our bodies.” And, in this sense, sexuality becomes
fluidity in this dance as the three major figures (Hernandez and
dancers Angel Acuña and Autumn Randolph circle around one another, at times
appearing almost in the kind of arm to arm, head to head patterns of Stravinsky’s
The Rite of Spring.)
This work does not embrace the standard
rituals—although there are quite funny rifts of those rituals, including early
on an invocation to the local god of music/performative reviewers from the Los Angeles Times, Mark Swed—these
dancers are all transgressors of normative behavior, interlinking in deep
sexual swoons, breaking apart and returning to one another again and again in a
series sexual interlinkings, diving in and out and between their kisses, their
crotches, and constant embraces with often quite acrobatic somersaults and
rather impassioned headstands.
The enthusiastic audience who filled the
theater at REDCAT at the opening night performance openly cheered on their
various voguing-like positions and their constant cross-overs of relationship.
The entire dances of Hypanthium are about fluidity, as the three dancers, dressed in
red, black, and white, move in and out of, not only one another, but of
identity. If you need to ask about the sexual identities of these figures—and I
must admit, at moments, I did—then you are missing the point. These three are
one, a large expression of simple sexuality that doesn’t fit into normative
systems. Even the psychological injections of the lack of personal recognition do
not work in this world. No scolding needed. These three are one. A rose, behind
it Bette Midler’s rendition in her performance of Janis Joplin of “The Rose,”
from whence the nectar, “hypanthium” comes:
Some say love, it is a
river
That drowns the tender
reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It's the heart, afraid of breaking
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It's the heart, afraid of breaking
That never learns to
dance
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
If Midler’s song in perhaps to sentimental for the hard-edge songs
to which these dancers perform, it is, ultimately, a viewpoint that resonates
with Hernandez’s vision.
At the end of the performance,
my guest for the evening, Pablo Capra, suggested that he felt nervous about
several of Hernandez’s moves, particularly in the early film sequence, where
the dancer struts down in deep drag tresses and in high heels in the midst of
traffic on one of the major bridges that lead to East Los Angles, even
reclining momentarily on the parapet looking over the railroad tracks. Later in
the performance, on the slick REDCAT stage, the dancer again takes to his high
heels, slinking across the stage in what appears like clear danger.
The fact is that
Hernandez and his small company take so many chances in their dancing, you
cannot, as the enthusiastic audience reinforced, but adore their commitment to
love, of whatever kind it may be.
Los Angeles, January 25,
2019
Reprinted from USTheater,
Opera, and Performance (January 2019).
No comments:
Post a Comment