Review: CONVERGENT DIVERGENCY at Winchester Street Theatre

It's hard to imagine two paired dance shows more different than helix by Atri Nundy and GIVE ME ONE by Danah Rosales, the double bill that makes up Toronto Dance Theatre's CONVERGENT DIVERGENCY, now playing at the Winchester Street Theatre. One is self-consciously serious, the other irreverent and sly. One depends on slow, deliberate, clockwork-like movements; the other thrives on quick voguing and wild catwalk prancing. One is about uniformity and rigidity, the other about individuality and funky fresh flow. One's title is all-lowercase, a whisper; the other's is all-caps, a shout. As a counterpoint to each other, they form an intriguing balance that investigates the form of dance and what it can be.

Seen in earlier works this year such as THE MAGIC OF ASSEMBLY, which combined contemporary dance and the frenetic, crisp arm movements of whacking, Toronto Dance Theatre's season is all about having conversations between specialists in various types of dance, working together to create new, hybrid pieces under the watchful eye of a choreographer. CONVERGENT DIVERGENCY is the final work in the season, and involves collaboration between company dancers and practitioners of Bharatanatyam and Kiki Ballroom dance forms.

Bharatanatyam, a school of Indian classical dance that has its origins in Tamil Hindu temples as an expression of spiritual themes, stands for a combination of emotions, melodic framework, and rhythm. Distinguished by a gestural system of meaningful signs produced by the face and hands, Bharatanatyam generally features dancers with a rigid torso but flexed knees. In Nundy's helix, two Bharatanatyam dancers are paired with three TDT company dancers to create spirals that play with the concept of circles and positioning of the spine.

The dancers (Yuichiro Inoue, Rachana Joshi, Peter Kelly, Megumi Kokuba, and Purawai Vyas), in similar but distinct seafoam-green jumpsuits by costume designer Valerie Calam, are slowly illuminated, as if their day, or one day in a long string of days, is beginning. Slowly, deliberately, they rotate with a precise, controlled effort that is fascinating to watch, as beautiful music blossoms behind them (sound collaborator Nancy Thavaruban). The path of the dancers expands outward around the stage, each dancer inhabiting a tiny, solo universe while being impacted by their proximity to others. They reach out towards each other, arms stiff and outstretched, but never quite touching.

The pace of the movements changes little throughout the 40 minutes, but is later overlaid with a rhythmic accompaniment, as the dancers begin counting off in different rhythms from one to ten. Each maintains a distinct count while the voices layer on top of each other, spiraling numbers into the ether. The counts give the experience a sense of uniformity and the dancers a sense of individuality.

It's a beautiful, majestic piece, but not a particularly accessible one. If one had to describe many people's stereotypes of modern dance, this would be it: slow, exacting movements, a pace that rarely varies, portentous counting. Essentially, it's what many people are afraid they won't understand when they enter an unfamiliar recital room. While I enjoyed the meditative aspect of the experience, DNA by way of Philip Glass, my guest, attending his first in-person dance show, remarked that he felt completely lost. I have to admit that, as a neophyte to the world of Bharatanatyam myself, I was unsure how much of this dance form was on display in the conversation.

The second act on the double bill is so different that we're all required to vacate the theatre at intermission so that the crew can physically set up, but also, I imagine, so that they can completely change the energy and vibe. Walking into GIVE ME ONE and hearing its performers (Jocelyne 'Jaws' Cardenas, Matthew 'Snoopy' Cuff, Kelly-Ann Johnson, Erin Poole, Devon Snell, Roberto Soria) call out for your attention, you can feel the crackling bundle of electric joy from the show to come.

In conversation with the TDT dancers here is Kiki Ballroom, a dance form originated by and for Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ youth from the drag ball culture of the Harlem Renaissance. Kiki, a term meaning to take lightheartedly, involves the family structure of "houses," and is designed as a safe space for friendly competition and showing off one's talents. You won't see the rumba or the Viennese waltz, but you will see voguing, runway walks, and celebration of face and body.

Style is also paramount at the ball, with the audience bleachers beginning the experience transformed into a display for colourful, eclectic clothing (costume design by Diséiye), a sort of play on coming off the rack.

The energy starts through the roof and only gets higher, beginning with a hilarious diss battle between TDT dancers: Devon Snell's creative, gender-bending thrift outfit takes on Erin Poole's vibrant pink name-brand accessories. The "conversation" part of the assignment is crystal clear here: part social commentary, part wordplay and all fun, the rivalry riles up the audience, with Poole and Snell striding up into the rows to ask us to examine the material.

After this, we're treated to a couple of segments from the impeccably sharp Kiki crowd, with Cardenas, Cuff, and Johnson introducing us to the swooping dips and fast fingers of Voguing ("five finger discount!" exclaims a performer), and, joined by Poole, Snell, and Soria, owning the shiny, mylar runways at the sides and back of the performance space.

Despite the extreme differences between the two halves of the evening, it stands out that neither work features much or even any touching between dancers, whether in the achingly close but never-meeting rotation of the clockwork dancers, or the walk-offs between runway competitors. This separateness struck me as an interesting choice for the final entries in a season about collaboration and reaching across genre.

In the end, CONVERGENT DIVERGENCY gives us a view into where dance forms meet, and where they separate. The eclectic pairing may not be to everyone's tastes at all times, but it's a worthwhile exploration of what kind of moves might move you.

Photo of Roberto Soria, Jocelyne 'Jaws' Cardenas, Erin Poole, Devon Snell, Kelly-Ann Johnson, and Matthew 'Snoopy' Cuff by Marlowe Porter.

To post a comment, you must register and login.