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Review 1, 10-7: Here Comes the Mirror Man
At the Altar with Michael Clark
By Josephine Leask
Copyright 2003 Josephine Leask
LONDON -- After several
years in the wilderness (rehab, illness, personal crisis), the anarchic
but saintly-looking Michael Clark returned to the stage this season,
and the crowds were there to welcome him and his company last week
at Sadler's Wells. Fans from the music and visual art worlds --
which have always featured large in Clark's work -- as well as numerous
personal friends swelled the usually modest dance audience. Maybe
the attitude has been dropped, maybe the movement is softer and
the costumes less outrageous, but the Clark characteristics were
still there in "Oh My Goddess," seen October 1 as the opening program
of Dance Umbrella.
Clark was famous in
the '80s for his use of punk rock music, his design collaborations
with the way-out art avant-garde, his desire to shock, an obsession
with sex and his exquisite dancing. Whatever he was into at the
time seemed to appear on stage. What was fascinating in those days
was that however outrageous his performances were (we're talking
putting his sexagenarian mother naked on stage) and however head-splittingly
loud the music was, the harshest critic would melt at the sight
of the beautiful Clark dancing effortlessly and perfectly the technique
of his Royal Ballet and Ballet Rambert background.
Clark's work is very
music-dominated and he wants his audience to enjoy the music he
likes. Short dances are performed to single tracks of music in an
accessible, often humorous way. In the first half, the sounds of
T. Rex and The Human League were followed by several sober and melancholic
studies by Satie, played live by four pianists. The second half
included tracks by PJ Harvey, the Sex Pistols and Can, the '70s-era
German avant-garde rock band which founded 'Krautrock.' This last
was an interesting choice for Clark, who really focused our attention
on the band by screening a rare 1972 performance during the interval,
much to the delight of the music fans. Although maybe he was just
trying to pad out his material, which did look a bit scanty.
The eight strong dancers
in Clark's new company are, as with his past companies, unfazed
by the volume of the music and indeed the costumes, even if they
seem toned down in "Oh My Goddess." The flamboyant punk fashion
victim, art tart look of previous work is replaced by the black
gothic look of the late '80s but there is still a rippling undercurrent
of sex and gender mayhem. Boys and girls cross dress, a female dancer
wears men's underwear complete with prosthetic penis, buttocks peep
out, erogenous zones are highlighted and sometimes the performers
look just downright silly. Clark himself makes brief cameo appearances
dressed unremarkably, first in a dowdy shell suit, then in black
vaguely punky attire, more jaded but definitely still seamlessly
in command of his movement.
Just as Clark once celebrated
the glamorous anarchy of the '80s, in "Oh My Goddess" he seems to
commemorate the darker, drearier side of the epoch. The program
notes for the piece include blown-up photographs of unattractive
jeering crowds at pop concerts and football matches. From the monotonous
tones of The Human League to the raucous angry hurting voice of
PJ Harvey, the impression Clark leaves us with is ultimately depressing,
one of burnt-out lives and empty dreams. While on the one hand this
work is frivolous and enjoyable for its music and some of the dancing,
it is nevertheless as empty of depth or meaning as much of the consumer
culture that we live in.
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