BATSHEVA DANCE COMPANY

BERTOLINA

SWEPT AWAY WITH ALERT ANTICIPATION
The first dancer crosses the stage with huge running steps, her torso bent forward as if about to fall. She is the trumpet, heralding what is to come. This running on the border of the stage is relentless, bare. This is Hunger for space, speed, for conquering a place you haven't visited yet, where you will not be you, hunger without response.

A large group of dancers breaks into the stage in what seems initially as a rave party, shaking their pelvis with one repetitive movement, with eruptions of battle, of body colliding into body, with a long kiss between two men that is a sort of smash and not a soft embrace, where two women in a duplicated shadow meet convulsively for a minute, chest to chest, only to be swept again fast into the moving, pulsating mass.

This group movement is anonymous, nameless. Its contrast are the costumes. It has been a long time since we saw such voluptuousness and richness of invention and character. Each character has its signature, thanks to a sophisticated design which wonderfully succeeds in bestowing a unifying shade to lines of grey pencil drawn on the velvety outfit of the 18th century aristocracy, elaborate kimonos, silvery cabaret clothes, sports apparel, real and painted garters on ornamented body tights, lace stockings and minute textures in matt, silvery and gold hues, face and head masks and samurai outfits.

These may be the Names of characters, but our names hide the pounding blood and the ceaseless running on stage. The overflowing structures, the restless, beating rhythm are a word-less text on naked life, hunger and passion and the fact that stopping means death.

This powerful, almost primal vitality, was already apparent in Sharon Eyal's previous work. Only her works for women – the seven solo dances in Love, the wonderful duets of "Under the Bare Light", were more complex, detailed and gentle, remaining at the same time a demonstration of women at their peak of power and splendor – splendor of the body, of an intense, fearless sexuality. In times when the art of the victim is a prominent motto, particularly the representation of women in film and literature as victims ignorant of their tragedy, Sharon Eyal's approach is a fresh reminder of an alternative femininity, maybe similar to that of Madonna who fearlessly re-invents herself every day, of women artists like Martha Graham and others who refused to assume the victim's role although circumstances could have led them there. The clarity of movement in her dances is such that feminine splendor becomes a magnificence greater than life, worthy of goddesses.

In the first part I was impatient for the lyrical part (which will always come after the fast allegro), but after the intermission I understood that I am swept away into a whirlpool which is not about to subside, that there is no limit nor break and that the infinite running is not only sex and passion but also horror. Like the medieval St. Vitus dances or the Tarantella dance, those ecstatic mass dance which originated in church courtyards and are connected both historically and linguistically to the dance of death, the Dance Macabre, Sharon Eyal's ecstatic dance has its dark side. From a certain stage the incessant pulse and throbbing rhythms stiffen the running, making it organized, almost military. The personal outbreaks are choreographies of loss of control, of shaking, of tongues, faces, fingers, while the accumulative beating running towards the end becomes threatening.

The amazing lighting design by Bambi has sudden color changes, from menacing white to slow, golden darkness, and the stage, with the painted costumes and the pulsating bodies which are part of something bigger, remind us suddenly of the war paintings of Ochello. The changes of direction of the running, while repeating the first, splendid motifs, are an accelerated shedding off of a thin layer of civilization. When the entire group, with Yoshifumi as a powerful spearhead, beyond thought, moves as one body towards the audience, we sense both danger and perhaps the option to get up instantly and join this swearing in against death by dancing to the extreme of our senses.

Sharon Eyal dances with the group. Her sensuality is beyond the ordinary. She is majestic, serious and intense. A statement on beauty, power and sexuality to be respected.

Contemporary dance is usually not any more about hunger for space, for running. Dancers usually move with careful entrances, in complex choreographies which are not passionate for speed or space. Eyal brings dance back to this primal passion which pushes a running child – further and further. Suddenly the stage seemed too small and narrow to contain this fervent impulse. Like a river which sweeps everything, for good and for bad.
CLASSIC music and style magazine, Gabi Aldor, November 2006

IT’S THE MAGIC
Oh, Sharon Eyal. What do you dream about at night? What kind of faces do you make at the mirror? Have you ever taken a Rorschach test? Can we see the results? And, say – is it fun to dance with your bottom exposed?

Last night Eyal caught me by the throat, pressed hard and threw me right in to the battle arena in her mind. Watching Bertolina, Eyal’s latest creation for the Batsheva Dance Company, you can’t help but being completely drawn to the movements on stage, wanting to join the dancers and experience this frenzied catharsis: throw yourself on stage, smack your own behind, kiss a same sex partner, swirl as if in a pagan ritual, bite your elbows, feel how the rich and rhythmical sound track seeps in to your bones and drives you crazy.

And all this mess is amazingly engineered, because Eyal knows how to skillfully organize her madness. Bertolina is only seemingly noisy, defiant, adulterated. It’s actually symmetrical, harmonious, flowing, full of fun, and has the high potential of becoming the summer’s coolest popsicle.

Eyal proves what a giant step she’s made as an artist, how she’s matured. She has her own unique language, knows exactly what she wants to say, and succeeds doing so. And, as always, Eyal is hypnotic as a performer – noble and wild. Sharon – you drove us crazy. Don’t stop.
Yedioth Achronot, Na’ama Lanski, Thursday, July 13 2006

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