Unsubtle Politics

"Political Mother"
Hofesh Shechter
BAM Howard Gilman Theater
Brooklyn, NY
October 11, 2012

By Martha Sherman
Copyright © 2012 by Martha Sherman

The audience got its first clue about “Political Mother” when the usher handed out earplugs along with the programs. It was not only loud, but filled with huge gestures and universally recognized political clichés bathed in spotlight after spotlight. Despite the cacophony, the movement filling the stage was unfailingly engaging. The evening was an experience in contradictions – how to block out the headaches, but not lose any of the power and grace.

Shechter, an Israeli-born and trained choreographer now based in London, is known for the intensity of his choreography. “Political Mother” fits into this pattern, telling stories of militarism, demagoguery, and victimization. Dramatic lighting, by Lee Curran, moved between multiple spotlights and blackouts, often played through fog onstage and throughout the theater. This was a cold world, of fear and disconnection. Shechter was not only choreographer but composer as well, of a pounding score played by electric guitarists and  drummers: the dance and the score were both flawed and mesmerizing.

Shechter’s dance movement is quite stunning. The dozen dancers managed, paradoxically, to be both wild and subtle, dancing in large, energized movement laced with liquid, beautiful shifts and transitions. Early on, two men ended a duet with their arms in low, wide V’s, parallel in a spotlight. Later, the whole troupe took the same pose, as if framed in an angled and jagged architecture. Similarly, Shechter used circle dances, and a long line and dancers in parallels to draw in his viewers; these were simple images, filled with energy. Shechter’s first dancing was as a folk dancer, a connection he offered, humorously, late in the program in slow unveiling of words on the black back wall: “Where there is pressure… there is…folk dance.”

Despite the collective movements, the troupe was a tight mass of unique dancers moving together, a reminder that political movements, no matter how uniform and collective, are made of individuals. The dancers’ upraised arms and hands flicked and melted, as if electric currents were coursing through them. Their arms scooped while their torsos convulsed. With heads bowed, they were victims, their arms like those of puppets on strings. When heads were upraised, they were a powerful group. The transitions between the two were often frighteningly smooth, just like the crossing of lines as political voice moves into victimhood, or victimizing.

Although the movement was beautiful to watch, Shechter used clichés over and over. A hysterical demagogue on a high platform howled nonsense into a standing microphone, as drum beats and electric guitar riffs pounded the air. The array of guitarists on one level, and the uniformed drummers underneath, was visually arresting; the screamer (at first a man, later an ape) was overdone and uninteresting. Below him, the dancers shivered and writhed in the pajama-like costumes, battered and slope-shouldered. By the fourth iteration, these messages had spun themselves out.

The music, too, had high points, and then the moment when enough was enough. There were some interludes of Bach, and a soulful pop tune, but most of the score was Shechter’s composition, drawing on his musical background (from piano to drums and guitar); The initial throbbing drumbeat and guitars were a little reminiscent of the opening of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” a very powerful riff in its time-- 40 years ago. As the drumbeat continued to filter through our brains, it did magnetize; but eventually, the more fatigued members in the audience (or those who hadn’t taken earplugs from the ushers) filtered out of the theater. The point was made; but the price was high.

To the score of Joni Mitchell’s “Clouds,” Shechter closed the work with a quick review of the entire program. In the final 10 minutes, he replayed in reverse the memorable images of all the prior scenes – happy reminders of the grand “V’s” and lines, more demagogue and prison scenes, and finally, a replay of the short opening scene of a hara-kiri, a single dancer in Japanese medieval dress, plunging a sword through his belly. Another choreographic choice that seemed more clichéd than inspired.

Yet everyone was caught up in the energy and twists of violence, intimacy, and desire. The power felt very male and visceral (even in the female dancers;) no maternal energy was evident, despite the dance’s title. The draw of the piece -- despite its flaws-- was undeniable. Politics is power, and Shechter harnesses it convincingly.

copyright © 2012 by Martha Sherman

Photos by Julieta Cervantes

Top: Yeji Kim, Sam Coren, Hannah Shepherd, Karima El Mamrani in “Political Mother”
Middle: Cast in “Political Mother”
Bottom: Cast in “Political Mother”