alibi_shop (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alibi_shop) wrote2019-02-23 06:08 pm
alibi_shop) wrote2019-02-23 06:08 pm
Stage: Réversible (by The 7 Fingers)
Réversible, performed by The 7 Fingers, directed and choreographed by Gypsy Snider - seen on 2/22/19 at Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley
I don't know much about circus but I usually enjoy seeing it, and in the last few years I've been seeing much more of it than before. However, I usually don't know what to say about it; all that my brain retains is "they did a thing and they were good at it." For whatever reason, that's not the case with the two excellent 7 Fingers shows I've seen.
There are traditional circus acts in Réversible: there's some hand-balancing, juggling, Chinese pole, Korean plank, German wheel, rope, silks, hoops... all beautifully done, and all with at least one idea or move that I definitely hadn't seen before. But what makes the show what it is is all the other stuff. The 7 Fingers do a lot of precisely choreographed semi-acrobatic group dance numbers, with inventive and often very funny ways of interacting with props and sets. (The set this time starts out looking much simpler than their previous show, just a plain wall with a few doors and windows, but that's deceptive; pieces of it keep getting rearranged and turned around, and every part of it gets used for a sight gag at some point. I kept waiting to see what the cat-flap was for, and sure enough, eventually they were stuffing people through it.) There are very few pauses; usually when they're in between things, there'll be some kind of odd little drama going on, clown characters who only exist briefly.
And, probably the most disorienting for anyone who hasn't seen them before, there are spoken segments—written by the performers—related to the nominal theme of the show, which in this case is connecting with the past and one's ancestors. I feel like they didn't do very much to link up this material with the rest of the thing; I felt the same in the previous one, Cuisine & Confessions, even though that one used much more of it. But I didn't really mind. It's good just to see these ridiculously skilled performers get to be mortal earthbound people for a moment (one of them who spoke immediately after a tumbling act was noticeably out of breath, which is generally something people do their best to conceal), and to have a chance to use words, on subjects that are important to them.
The final image was something I didn't expect at all. What's the opposite of an intricately designed set with many pieces? It turns out it's not an empty stage; it's a stage that's filled with one massive billowing blob of fabric, sort of a giant parachute that people emerged from, disappeared into, and sometimes were lifted up on (via someone underneath). It's a startling effect that has nothing in common with the rest of the show except that it's very beautiful.
I don't know much about circus but I usually enjoy seeing it, and in the last few years I've been seeing much more of it than before. However, I usually don't know what to say about it; all that my brain retains is "they did a thing and they were good at it." For whatever reason, that's not the case with the two excellent 7 Fingers shows I've seen.
There are traditional circus acts in Réversible: there's some hand-balancing, juggling, Chinese pole, Korean plank, German wheel, rope, silks, hoops... all beautifully done, and all with at least one idea or move that I definitely hadn't seen before. But what makes the show what it is is all the other stuff. The 7 Fingers do a lot of precisely choreographed semi-acrobatic group dance numbers, with inventive and often very funny ways of interacting with props and sets. (The set this time starts out looking much simpler than their previous show, just a plain wall with a few doors and windows, but that's deceptive; pieces of it keep getting rearranged and turned around, and every part of it gets used for a sight gag at some point. I kept waiting to see what the cat-flap was for, and sure enough, eventually they were stuffing people through it.) There are very few pauses; usually when they're in between things, there'll be some kind of odd little drama going on, clown characters who only exist briefly.
And, probably the most disorienting for anyone who hasn't seen them before, there are spoken segments—written by the performers—related to the nominal theme of the show, which in this case is connecting with the past and one's ancestors. I feel like they didn't do very much to link up this material with the rest of the thing; I felt the same in the previous one, Cuisine & Confessions, even though that one used much more of it. But I didn't really mind. It's good just to see these ridiculously skilled performers get to be mortal earthbound people for a moment (one of them who spoke immediately after a tumbling act was noticeably out of breath, which is generally something people do their best to conceal), and to have a chance to use words, on subjects that are important to them.
The final image was something I didn't expect at all. What's the opposite of an intricately designed set with many pieces? It turns out it's not an empty stage; it's a stage that's filled with one massive billowing blob of fabric, sort of a giant parachute that people emerged from, disappeared into, and sometimes were lifted up on (via someone underneath). It's a startling effect that has nothing in common with the rest of the show except that it's very beautiful.