Acclaim for Green Chair
Green Chair presents "far more subtle dance theater than one might have expected… the collaborative work is inventive, poignant, laugh-out-loud funny, and completely engaging without being literal." (Karen Campbell, The Boston Globe)
“Physical, witty, playful and fun, Green Chair Dance Group makes experimental dance very audience-friendly.” (Ellen Dunkel, Philadelphia Inquirer)
“Here is a group of dancer/choreographers with a sophisticated eye, great senses of humor, highly original movements, virtuosic abilities and an unbounded aesthetic…After all, we had an evening that took us from the funny to the touching to the dazzling to the satisfying.” (Quinn Bauriedel, Co-Artistic Director, Pig Iron Theatre Company)
Green Chair Dance Group “expanded one's point of view as to what dance performance is all about." (Christine Lomuscio, Chair, Weston Commission for the Arts, Weston, CT)
Green Chair is "powerful and smart and energetic and accessible." (Bobbi Block, Tongue & Groove Improv Company)
“Physical, witty, playful and fun, Green Chair Dance Group makes experimental dance very audience-friendly.” (Ellen Dunkel, Philadelphia Inquirer)
“Here is a group of dancer/choreographers with a sophisticated eye, great senses of humor, highly original movements, virtuosic abilities and an unbounded aesthetic…After all, we had an evening that took us from the funny to the touching to the dazzling to the satisfying.” (Quinn Bauriedel, Co-Artistic Director, Pig Iron Theatre Company)
Green Chair Dance Group “expanded one's point of view as to what dance performance is all about." (Christine Lomuscio, Chair, Weston Commission for the Arts, Weston, CT)
Green Chair is "powerful and smart and energetic and accessible." (Bobbi Block, Tongue & Groove Improv Company)
Full Review of For Emergency Use Only
Grace and humor mark their flights of fancy
By Karen Campbell, Globe Correspondent | September 24, 2007
For their Boston debut, the four talented dancer/choreographers of the Philadelphia-based Green Chair Dance Group ostensibly ask, "If you pull the cord and the chute doesn't open, how do you dance on the way down?" It's an intriguing proposition invoking both horror and humor. But in truth, "For Emergency Use Only" is far more subtle dance theater than one might have expected, and that's all to the good. At only 53 minutes long, the collaborative work is inventive, poignant, laugh-out-loud funny, and completely engaging without being literal. We have plenty of room to bring our own fears, foibles, and insecurities into play.
Set to an eclectic sound score, with excerpts ranging from Nina Simone to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, "For Emergency Use Only" is framed by the recurring sound of sirens. But the dancers never panic. They simply gather in a line or cluster to take care of business. They have a special gestural routine or jump straight up and down matter-of-factly, as if their legs were pogo sticks. They efficiently go through whatever motions the alarms seem to dictate. When one dancer starts to hyperventilate, the others clap their hands over his mouth. Drama averted.
Then they break apart with dazzling physicality. The dancers - John Beauregard, Hannah de Keijzer, Sarah Gladwin, and Gregory Holt - display a thorough grounding in a range of modern dance styles. Their partnering has the fluid weight exchange of contact improvisation, as they push, pull, lift, and support one another. They inventively, playfully use each other as climbing structures. Their floor work resembles slow-motion capoeira, with falls to the floor corkscrewing into convoluted off-center balances.
Their use of gestures is delightful. De Keijzer brings her pinkies together in a hilarious imaginary finger puppet conversation culminating in a kiss. The group engages in an elaborate hand game, with high speed clapping, finger pointing, arm pumping. The funniest section combines three discreet moves - arm up, elbow out, wrists circle. But though it is begun in unison, it gradually gets out of synch as the dancers start embellishing with "look-at-me" stylistic pizzazz. Periodically, the dancers simply stop and sit down, regrouping as the music dissolves into the sounds of rain.
Though each of the dancers is given a character name, it's irrelevant - they never even speak. Instead, they emote with a smile, a disapproving glance, the skepticism of a raised eyebrow, the cool calculation of an unwavering stare. It's a direct but not overly dramatic theatricality that works beautifully.
One of the most endearing aspects of the piece is the costumes, knee pants and white T-shirts onto which various details have been drawn - pocket, tie, suspenders, necklace, belt. But the chalky black details gradually smudge with sweat and contact, so by the time the dance is over, their toil is manifest on their shirts. The performers look like they've really been through an ordeal. Lucky for Friday's capacity audience, they invited us along for the ride.
© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.
By Karen Campbell, Globe Correspondent | September 24, 2007
For their Boston debut, the four talented dancer/choreographers of the Philadelphia-based Green Chair Dance Group ostensibly ask, "If you pull the cord and the chute doesn't open, how do you dance on the way down?" It's an intriguing proposition invoking both horror and humor. But in truth, "For Emergency Use Only" is far more subtle dance theater than one might have expected, and that's all to the good. At only 53 minutes long, the collaborative work is inventive, poignant, laugh-out-loud funny, and completely engaging without being literal. We have plenty of room to bring our own fears, foibles, and insecurities into play.
Set to an eclectic sound score, with excerpts ranging from Nina Simone to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, "For Emergency Use Only" is framed by the recurring sound of sirens. But the dancers never panic. They simply gather in a line or cluster to take care of business. They have a special gestural routine or jump straight up and down matter-of-factly, as if their legs were pogo sticks. They efficiently go through whatever motions the alarms seem to dictate. When one dancer starts to hyperventilate, the others clap their hands over his mouth. Drama averted.
Then they break apart with dazzling physicality. The dancers - John Beauregard, Hannah de Keijzer, Sarah Gladwin, and Gregory Holt - display a thorough grounding in a range of modern dance styles. Their partnering has the fluid weight exchange of contact improvisation, as they push, pull, lift, and support one another. They inventively, playfully use each other as climbing structures. Their floor work resembles slow-motion capoeira, with falls to the floor corkscrewing into convoluted off-center balances.
Their use of gestures is delightful. De Keijzer brings her pinkies together in a hilarious imaginary finger puppet conversation culminating in a kiss. The group engages in an elaborate hand game, with high speed clapping, finger pointing, arm pumping. The funniest section combines three discreet moves - arm up, elbow out, wrists circle. But though it is begun in unison, it gradually gets out of synch as the dancers start embellishing with "look-at-me" stylistic pizzazz. Periodically, the dancers simply stop and sit down, regrouping as the music dissolves into the sounds of rain.
Though each of the dancers is given a character name, it's irrelevant - they never even speak. Instead, they emote with a smile, a disapproving glance, the skepticism of a raised eyebrow, the cool calculation of an unwavering stare. It's a direct but not overly dramatic theatricality that works beautifully.
One of the most endearing aspects of the piece is the costumes, knee pants and white T-shirts onto which various details have been drawn - pocket, tie, suspenders, necklace, belt. But the chalky black details gradually smudge with sweat and contact, so by the time the dance is over, their toil is manifest on their shirts. The performers look like they've really been through an ordeal. Lucky for Friday's capacity audience, they invited us along for the ride.
© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.
