The Featherstonehaughs (say: Fanshaws; all male) - often partnered with their sister company the Cholmondeleys (say: Chumleys; all female) - are one of the most innovative and unusual contemporary dance troupes you'll ever see. They've been setting trends and setting the bar high in UK contemporary dance for over twenty years, so it's sad news then that this is their farewell tour - especially since I've been trying to catch a full-length show of theirs for yonks, and to succeed only as their incredible era draws to a close is a bit galling.
Here, then, is what you're in for. First: if you haven't seen anything by hugely influential early 20th c. painter Egon Schiele, look at some now, as this will help you understand the whole experience as like witnessing a semi-animated version of his crazed work. (If you can't find any, imagine Klimt - under whom Schiele studied - in the gutter, minus the glitter, with some filth thrown in.) It's easy to see the visual links here between the art and the choreography, costumes (design by Oscar-winning designer Sandy Powell; construction by ex-Featherstonehaugh, cult artist & Duckie doorman Jay Cloth), lighting and even the intense, astounding live soundtrack. Everything about the show is challenging, like Schiele himself (his short life filled with womanising, including a liking of underage females; his artwork criticised for its heavily erotic/pornographic content). From the sudden, loud commencement of the live music (several of us flinched) to the twitching, shuffling and homoerotic writhing of the Schiele clones in paint-spattered suits and beautifully painted bodystockings (don't stare! No, wait - we're probably meant to), to the use of a stage surface delineated by glitchy flourescent tubes (a strobe of genius) - it's full-on, to say the least. Swan Lake this is not. The dancers, mostly separate on the stage, make a series of seemingly disconnected, awkward, twisted, repetitive movements which chime familiarly with the awkward, twisted poses depicted in Schiele's work, and which at times have something distantly reminiscent of Japanese butoh (Google it; or if you don't like the horror film The Ring, don't). There are no tight-lipped ballet smiles here: the dancers embody the depictions totally, their faces contorting unpleasantly to match their bodies. The uneasy spirit of Schiele runs through each dancer and the whole production like 'Blackpool' runs through a stick of rock.
I LOVED this show. At times though, it can feel a bit like being tested; like being sat down with a nice cup of tea by an earnest devotee and played some difficult Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, quite loud, on a Monday morning. And whilst Schiele loved the ladies and the choreographer is a woman, there's not much feminine to be found here, with the whole thing seeming instead to focus on encapsulating the essence of Schiele himself - the result being fairly aggressive (note to self: perhaps the sketchbooks contained only self portraits?). The challenge can be part of the fun though, along with spotting the sudden moments of dancerly (cf. 'painterly') beauty when the dancers come together into demementedly affectionate pairs, rolling on the floor or caressing each other, or form a brief ensemble. Something similar could be said of the music, composed - and played live - by Steve Blake and Will Saunders. With just drums, guitar and some trickery pedals, a lively, off-kilter, avant-jazz-y, Velvet Underground-y backdrop was created which at times almost overshadowed the dancing. (My companion spent much of the evening working out how just two musicians were managing to create a sound so rich, complex and multi-layered; we agreed that we'd like to see them play live again.)
At the curtain call, the Oxford Playhouse called choreographer Lea Anderson - the brains behind this piece, and both the Cholmondeley and the Featherstonehaugh companies - to the stage to present her with a bouquet, which she accepted with a degree of overwhelm as the theatre expressed their sadness at the ending of the era she had created. This was a very lovely moment and I felt honoured to have been there to see it.
The remaining handful of chances to catch this show (some in London, some with the additional option of catching Edits, a revival from their back catalogue) are listed on the company's website, here: www.thecholmondeleys.org/productions.php and run until the end of November. Don't miss your very last chance to see.
Here, then, is what you're in for. First: if you haven't seen anything by hugely influential early 20th c. painter Egon Schiele, look at some now, as this will help you understand the whole experience as like witnessing a semi-animated version of his crazed work. (If you can't find any, imagine Klimt - under whom Schiele studied - in the gutter, minus the glitter, with some filth thrown in.) It's easy to see the visual links here between the art and the choreography, costumes (design by Oscar-winning designer Sandy Powell; construction by ex-Featherstonehaugh, cult artist & Duckie doorman Jay Cloth), lighting and even the intense, astounding live soundtrack. Everything about the show is challenging, like Schiele himself (his short life filled with womanising, including a liking of underage females; his artwork criticised for its heavily erotic/pornographic content). From the sudden, loud commencement of the live music (several of us flinched) to the twitching, shuffling and homoerotic writhing of the Schiele clones in paint-spattered suits and beautifully painted bodystockings (don't stare! No, wait - we're probably meant to), to the use of a stage surface delineated by glitchy flourescent tubes (a strobe of genius) - it's full-on, to say the least. Swan Lake this is not. The dancers, mostly separate on the stage, make a series of seemingly disconnected, awkward, twisted, repetitive movements which chime familiarly with the awkward, twisted poses depicted in Schiele's work, and which at times have something distantly reminiscent of Japanese butoh (Google it; or if you don't like the horror film The Ring, don't). There are no tight-lipped ballet smiles here: the dancers embody the depictions totally, their faces contorting unpleasantly to match their bodies. The uneasy spirit of Schiele runs through each dancer and the whole production like 'Blackpool' runs through a stick of rock.
I LOVED this show. At times though, it can feel a bit like being tested; like being sat down with a nice cup of tea by an earnest devotee and played some difficult Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, quite loud, on a Monday morning. And whilst Schiele loved the ladies and the choreographer is a woman, there's not much feminine to be found here, with the whole thing seeming instead to focus on encapsulating the essence of Schiele himself - the result being fairly aggressive (note to self: perhaps the sketchbooks contained only self portraits?). The challenge can be part of the fun though, along with spotting the sudden moments of dancerly (cf. 'painterly') beauty when the dancers come together into demementedly affectionate pairs, rolling on the floor or caressing each other, or form a brief ensemble. Something similar could be said of the music, composed - and played live - by Steve Blake and Will Saunders. With just drums, guitar and some trickery pedals, a lively, off-kilter, avant-jazz-y, Velvet Underground-y backdrop was created which at times almost overshadowed the dancing. (My companion spent much of the evening working out how just two musicians were managing to create a sound so rich, complex and multi-layered; we agreed that we'd like to see them play live again.)
At the curtain call, the Oxford Playhouse called choreographer Lea Anderson - the brains behind this piece, and both the Cholmondeley and the Featherstonehaugh companies - to the stage to present her with a bouquet, which she accepted with a degree of overwhelm as the theatre expressed their sadness at the ending of the era she had created. This was a very lovely moment and I felt honoured to have been there to see it.
The remaining handful of chances to catch this show (some in London, some with the additional option of catching Edits, a revival from their back catalogue) are listed on the company's website, here: www.thecholmondeleys.org/productions.php and run until the end of November. Don't miss your very last chance to see.