YOU’LL WONDER WHY THIS PIECE DOESN’T LAND
When watching the dancers of Brooklyn-based GALLIM perform Wonderland tonight, it became exceedingly apparent that the landscape of movement executed was anything but. Miller’s Wonderland could be described with an amalgam of adjectives; if “wonder” was to be one of them, then the sentiment did not gleam with the meaning I anticipated. The sliver of wonder brought about was only to be found sitting next to its friend confusion, atop a heap of disappointment, and restlessness. The landscape cultivated on stage was not overflowing with delight as the definition of wonder suggests and instead proved to be a mottled heap of reckless conventionality. The half-evening length work, originally premiered in 2010, has been expanded to the hour and fifteen minute version running as a NY Premiere through November 17 at The Joyce.
Choreographed by GALLIM’s Artistic Director Andrea Miller, Wonderland promised, according to the playbill, “Animal instincts, collective terrors … and a shapeshifting playground of ironies”. Although themes of animalism did pervade the production through the sound of hooves battering the ground and dancers taking on roles such as The Dog danced by Bryan Testa or The Pack danced by the rest of the ensemble, the promise of ironic and thereby clever or self-conscious wit was nowhere to be found. Instead, a sinking sensation took hold as I feverishly attempted to look for it — perhaps this was the “terror” I had been forewarned about. This is not to say the entire production was a wash, as there were brief glimpses at virtuosic expression from The Guilty (Georgia Usborne), The Seer (India Hobbs), and the Megalomatrix (Arika Yamada). Usborne balanced Miller’s quirky yet uncomfortable movement vocabulary, toggling between balletic and clumsy as her knees buckled inwards and her arms spiraled on their own accord. Her face expressing a plaintive honesty; a refreshing peek into what I imagined to be a cavern of vulnerability hidden away amidst an otherwise frivolous world of tomfoolery.
Themes of pack mentality revealed themselves as Yamada commanded the dancers, shouting and pointing with a menacing claw-like hand. The other thirteen dancers dutifully arranged themselves like cheerleaders, creating pyramids and various geometric shapes, their bodies and eyes peering outward, solemnly pleading for approval as the rest of their desires hid behind closed expressionless faces. When such moments of formation-ornamentation appeared, Wonderland itself, much like the dancers, seemed to be begging for a burst of applause that never arrived.
The dancers executed repetitive sequences when creating a V-shaped formation and when preparing to begin a race over and over again without committing themselves to a competition. The movement throughout continually edges towards possible tension and subsequently veers away from it as if the choreography was afraid of itself, cultivating anxiety that found no end. This visceral discomfort was further spurred by repetitive sounds of dissonant ringing and the dancers garishly lip-synching to a blaring rendition of The Chordettes — who I usually adore. The Pack propelled themselves at one another in a scuffle, their aggression bubbling over only so far as a feeble elementary schoolyard fight. They locked arms and flung each other around shattering any belief of real agitation, giving way to a clumsy grappling with the truth: There was nothing to fight about. This empty brutality pervades Miller’s choreographic vocabulary as she creates steps that appear to wrestle with themselves — indeterminate mixtures of movement that may once have been creative have devolved into a tiresome uncomfortable realm of predictability.
This is egregiously apparent with the work of The Fool (Vivian Pakkanen), who molted and contorted on the floor in a way I can only describe as a Barbie who’s been subjected to a house fire. Her body was a perplexing showcase of acrobatic indulgence, scooting around in a split and screaming into the unforgiving oblivion of rudimentary misunderstanding. Her character often found oohing and ahhing at those surrounding her, flopping on the floor and giggling like a baby. The Fool was not the only laughing and vocal dancer, as the other members of GALLIM chortled and hooted throughout. In doing so the piece seemed to be making a fool of itself rather than inviting us to laugh alongside it. The development of these noisy scenes unfurled like a long complex story a demented narrator might orate at a stuffy dinner party, creating the sensation of disorientation. Maybe that’s the point, to highlight The Pack as some kind of ruse, a false sensation of security or representative of a structure and unity that doesn’t exist. Although this may be my attempt to scrape something out of nothing, it does feel comforting to consider.
Despite the performers moving upon the stage, I could hardly find a subject to radiate and reciprocate my emotional investment in their work. I instead had to resort to carrying my hope with me, adding an extra layer of labor to the task of viewership. Tantamount to my level of dissatisfaction lay a precarious amount of guilt in my inability to construe what exactly was missing and what it was I was hoping to take place and take home with me. Upon further reflection, I realize this is no fault of my own but rather due to shoddy world-building in the realms of choreography and structure alike. The explorations of movement development may have been interesting in themselves in the former, shorter iteration of Wonderland from 2010, but in today’s dance world that teems with disjointed improv and concave cores, Miller’s extended work rehashes the old and fails to uncover anything new. Perhaps the production suffers due to the nearly 15-year gap between its original conception and current iteration, the effects of time adding wrinkles to the work. I cannot speak to the past iteration of Wonderland as I haven’t seen it myself, but this is the only real reasoning I can entertain regarding the chaos I diligently sat through and chewed on ’til my jaw got tired.
photos by Dan Chen
Andrea Miller’s Wonderland
GALLIM
The Joyce Theater, 175 Eighth Avenue
ends on November 17, 2024
for tickets, visit Joyce
