“What are we longing for?” This is what Pina Bausch asks of her dancers. This might also be what her dancers ask of the film audience. Pina is dead, but it’s not as simple as that, and nobody here speaks of her death. This is not a documentary that recalls her life but an artwork that extends and preserves her contribution to modern dance.
This film doesn’t rely on a typical memorial narrative, and its impact comes less from what the featured dancers/friends say of Pina, than what their bodies express through dance. Dancers voice short reflections of their time with Pina, yet in these scenes the dancer’s voice is played over a silent headshot. They breathe and twitch, offering an internal monologue. And then they dance a tribute to Pina.
The film has a unique rhythm that I didn’t fall into right away. It’s not a typical rhythm, but one that jolts, sprays and falls back into itself. Much like Pina’s choreography. For me, a dancehall scene was the moment I fell. Dancers are seated around the edge of a room, gradually rising (alone or in groups) and walking to the centre, towards a camera which might double as a mirror. They push hair from their faces, show their teeth, suck in their stomachs. This is a rehearsal but also a scene of self-reflection. Perhaps it speaks of the inward gaze of dancers, watching themselves as they might be watched. This gentle scene spirals into a loud, gyrating, dance. At this point, I also let down my guard and fall into the film.
By asking ‘what are we longing for?’ we learn that Pina is about unspoken desires that take hold of bodies and express things in new ways, beyond words, or perhaps surpassing the limits of a vocabulary.
Water, rocks, nature, industry… the dance moves from enclosed performance spaces to open public space amongst commuters and other daily rhythms. Scenes from a performance (Café Müller) are interspersed with dances alongside trains, highways, and swimming pools. The natural environment is there but often constructed, with sand and soil inside theatres, as well as rivers, rocks and rainfall. Emotions climb as more water falls, splashes and spits onto dancing bodies. As a three dimensional film, the audience can’t escape getting wet.
Whilst some dancers share words about Pina before they dance, some just stare into the camera, breathing. I found the unspoken moments most affective here as this makes it difficult to read their dance to Pina. We’re reminded that these are not simply performances, but conversations; a communication between dancers, students, teachers, and friends. We’re reminded that sometimes emotions can’t be voiced, but are best worn through our gestures and our art.
A shy dancer recalls Pina asking her “Why are you frightened of me? I didn’t do anything to you”. Then we cut to her dance where there is no trace of fear; only brash, intense, flaunting. In such moments we become Pina. Watching proudly, we are touched.
The film begins with seasons, and these seasons, in the form of dance, appear throughout the film. We’re reminded of the changing environment and how this shapes expressions and uses of our bodies. Years pass with seasons, and so we have the passing of time. This film, these emotions, and these relationships (sometimes exceeding 20 years), are a passing of much time. We know from the dancers (speaking and not speaking) that this is all about Pina. And we learn that Pina is all about everyone, because she knows that in human gestures lie strange maps of emotion, honesty, and desire.
Pina asks her dancers to give honesty. They dance (for) her, for us, but also for themselves, in celebration of a lost friend. Yet any expression of loss is complicated by the fact that Pina is still very much alive in this film, and in the bodies of the people she touched.
(photo by William Yang)
No comments:
Post a Comment