Amina Khayyam Dance Company: You&Me, BIRD

The Place, London
June 4, 2024

In 2020, Amina Khayyam’s powerful dance film, Catch the Bird Who Won’t Fly, considered the perception felt by many victims of domestic abuse that they have no option but to stay with their abusers, and their relationship with agencies and others who have suffered when they find themselves together in a shelter or such like.

BIRD, the stage sequel to that film, opens dramatically with silent screams from several of its performers, their backs arched deeply. It’s a recurring image over the work’s 50 minutes, a moment that reflects the traumatic experiences of those who suffer abuse, the silence an expression of the fact that they so often go unheard.

Despite its dark and difficult subject matter, Khayyam and her five fellow dancers create some beautiful images as dramatic solos are interspersed with physically demanding yet fluid ensemble, contemporary kathak choreography that’s full of neat patterns, fast turns and whirling arms. The cast’s long dresses accentuate the movement wonderfully.

Running through the always captivating piece are feelings of being trapped, of fear, of uncertainty. Under Clare O’Donoghue’s beautiful if gloomy lighting, the six dancers portray very clear and starkly arresting images. They reach out, arms and eyes pleading. There’s violence. A hand grabs a dancer’s jaw while the other holds her head. There are attempts at self-defence. One crouches down as if trying to protect herself. Hands are held over ears, and later over mouths. Coming back to the work’s title, arms flap and hands quiver like birds’ wings.

Khayyam frequently has her soloists backed by a small upstage group, sometimes just standing watching, sometimes moving in a tight pattern, in one scene slowly rolling. It could be distracting and yet, it is so subtly done, it is very effective, on occasion seeming to reflect the feeling may have of seeing but feeling unable, or maybe not wanting, to get involved.

One of the joys of Amina Khayyam Dance Company is live music. The ensemble of Debasish Mukherjee (tabla), Jonathan Mayer (sitar and subahar) and Iain McHugh (cello) are terrific. They and the tight rhythms of Mayer’s score, which incorporates music from John Marc Gowan’s sequence from Slut, contribute hugely to the work. It is just a shame the trio is largely totally hidden in the upstage darkness, only properly visible for a few seconds at the very end.

Kathak and contemporary dance also meet in the double-bill’s opener, You&Me, a 25-minute duet in which two men discover they are attracted to each other, and wrestle with all that prevents them from being together.

Like BIRD, the work developed out of Amina Khayyam Dance Company’s programme of workshops with women’s community groups, and specifically one woman’s sharing of her experiences of being in a marriage where their partner could not express his sexuality for fear of bringing shame to the family.

The audience meets the two characters as they walk in. Upstage, Giacomo Pini hovers around a chair suggesting home. He’s clearly experiencing internal conflict. A sense of yearning suggests something missing in life. The clash between contemporary social attitudes and tradition is reflected in his wearing T-shirt and jeans, but also ghungroo, kathak bells, around his ankles. It’s difficult not to see the latter as metaphorical chains. Downstage, stands the suited Shyam Dattani, holding a bunch of red roses. His movement is more subtle but he too exudes a sense that all is not well.

The pair are totally believable, finding just the right balance of dance and theatricality, getting just the right level of emotion. When they discover each other, at first, there’s uncertainty. They reach out but when hands touch, they suddenly pull away again as if hit by an electrical charge. Slowly, though, they come together, a duet emphasising their happiness at being able to show true feelings. Simply holding each other and looks on faces says so much more than flashy steps ever could. But it’s not that easy and something inside is still telling them ‘no.’

Khayyam uses different dance styles, largely kathak from Pini, contemporary from Dattani to show their coming to learn about and understand each other. As they try each other’s dance, there are some lovely moments of gentle humour that bring smiles. A sharing of jackets brings them closer together still before it ends in a joyous, expressive, wonderfully dynamic duet that fully melds their different dance styles.

The music, again by Meyer, again played live although this time totally unseen, achieves just the right level of poignancy and helps drive the story along.