Words by Sarah Lapinsky.
I stepped out of the theatre Friday night feeling positively exhilarated by what I had seen in the triple bill of GSB, Keith Alexander and Jackie Kibuka as part of The Place’s 35th Resolution Festival. These three works, though distinct in movement styles and subject matter, deliver a deeply resonating commitment to storytelling through movement.
GSB, the London-based krump collective, open the night with Episode 101 as six performers walk through darkness to approach a stark centre spotlight. Their controlled, mechanical movement slows as they pierce the light, and time seems to slow with them until a sharp switch or glitch quickly jolts them away. This motif develops into a series of solos as each performer had their moment in the light reaching, punching, breathing and gasping, swinging and rhythmically stomping with great feeling and full-bodied gestures.
I normally dislike a silent scream on stage (you know, where they will just kind of make the face with little to no commitment), but this was not that at all. This was not an imitation or a mere image of a scream. Instead, the performers embody the scream with such physicality and high tension that their bodies begin to shake. This level of commitment continues as the movement catches the impulses of the music and the group intervenes solos with touch.
Conducted by the light, the group moves from these spotlight solos into an almost fully illuminated stage for unison before the light contracts to a bounded square for one final solo ending as the performer backs out of the light. Interestingly, like the movement impetus, much of the focus felt internal. The group would form a circle facing inwards towards each other instead of facing the audience. In moments that were directed towards us in our seats, it felt like we became the witnesses they were for each other.
I won’t lie, I don’t have much experience with krumping, but even so, I could appreciate what the collective was conveying. The performers moved with such commitment and knowledge of what they were giving that it felt more like watching visual poetry than dance in Episode 101. I now wonder, will there be an episode 102?
Keith Alexander’s solo, To Quell A Storm, drips with cleverness, artistry and heart. The transdisciplinary work seamlessly integrates spoken word and audience participation as it revisits memories and captures the audience. The stage is set with a warm light illuminating a ring of newspapers centre stage before a projection of a poem begins playing on the back brick wall. The words are spoken over the speakers as they flash on the screen describing an impending storm. This felt quite serious which made Alexander’s entrance that much more surprising as he entered the stage from behind the audience calling out in an enthusiastic, child-like narration.
Connecting through shared experience (though I’m not sure if pupils from the UK are also instructed to count their seconds in ‘Mississippi’ as we do in the US), the performer describes a child’s view of a storm as we count and clap along with him — “One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi,” then with claps “Three..clap-clap-clap-clap”. This rhythm echoes as the story fades and the performer begins to stomp-clap-clap-clap-clap, stomp-clap-clap-clap-clap stepping back with rolling shoulders through and across the circle. Reaching the newspapers on the other side, he releases up before fading down to repeat. The repetition feels meaningful as the words fade and we begin to rely on the body percussion. The performer asks, “How can I quell the storm?” as the movement evolves with a flowing, water-like upper body and the story continues through triumphs, resistance and the realisations that surface with maturing.
Alexander skillfully embodies his memories and stories to present a thoughtful reflection on the unceasing systemic racism present in the US and the world through this storm.
Jackie Kibuka offered an exciting close to the night with Jajja 15, looking at the journey of four British-Ugandan grandchildren learning about their late grandfather’s life with the help of a mysterious angel. The joyous characterisation and humour woven into this affecting tale totally won me over.
A narrative work, the piece begins with a reading of a letter from the grandfather as a performer sensitively embodies the sentiments of longing for home that cannot be home anymore. The angel, dressed in all white, of course, enters to join him in a dance before removing his hat, his symbolic essence. Normally, I might find this cheesy, but the magic present in the work and the returning use of the prop satisfactorily justified this for me. Lights change to represent the shift to what I presume is the present day as the four grandchildren enter one by one to introduce themselves. The movement vocabulary of the piece is modern but rooted. Fluid and abandoning, the dancers hit all the beats and rhythms allowing me to trust that the music will be matched and used fully. I was swept up with them as they rolled their suitcases and journeyed to Uganda. In unison moments, the characters were so well embodied and developed that each character moved with their own thoughts and feelings experiencing the journey as we do.
Arriving in Uganda, the angel sets the letter for one of the characters to pick up. Again, the choreographer did not miss a moment to add humour as one of the brothers blames his sister for picking up the letter as they find they have been magically transported through time. The angel returns with the hat, placing it on one of the performer’s heads, which begins two sections of an embodied exploration of their grandfather’s political activism.
The work manages to convey the magnitude of Ugandan independence while attending to the story it presents. It is educational but not in a way that detracts from what we are watching. The choreography while sometimes presentational still drives the story forward with real storytelling through movement. My only critique is that the end did not feel like an ending, but I am hoping that is because this work will be expanded and the journey can reach its conclusion.
The cohesion of the programme really added to the experience and created a palpable excitement that manifested in mid-performance cheers from the audience (and admittedly myself). I think much of the crowd was made up of friends and supporters, as is the norm when it comes to Resolution, but this made the work feel not just offered but received. These pieces though not related, found common themes of embodiment and storytelling that resonated through an evening of strong work.