Divine. Pam Tanowitz and David Lang’s Song of Songs

Barbican Theatre, London
October 12, 2023

Even before it starts, Song of Songs looks a treat. The set of white vertical blinds down each side, bright blue benches and a circular blue platform is incredibly appealing. After more blinds drop down at the back about half way through the piece, with similar high ‘windows’ cut into them, the space takes on the feel of a great hall where everyday folk come together. Although I understand that designers Reid Bartelme and Harriet Jung too inspiration from the Abuhav Synagogue in Safed, Israel, there’s no religious connotation, however.

That feeling is very appropriate as a strong sense of community runs large throughout the work’s sixty minutes. David Lang’s multi-textured composition consists of defined sections performed by three vocalists and three musicians positioned upstage behind the action. Choreographer Pam Tanowitz’s eight dancers appear and respond, groups merging into solos merging into duets and trios with ease.

The original Song of Songs found in the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible, is about two lovers in harmony The poem is about love. It’s full of sexual intimacy and exchange. Tanowitz takes another tack, however. Stripped of emotional content, although interaction and connection between dancers is everywhere, her choreography is cool, refined and restrained. It’s also intensely beautiful.

Rather than delivering its full text, Lang’s libretto picks out words and short phrases, often chanted almost prayer-like. They sing of desire, of “my beloved, my friend,” and “my breasts.” We hear of a lover’s presence. “I can taste your mouth, I can taste your wine.” As it continues, there is, “Just your voice, just your neck,” and “just your eyes.” All the time the dancers, clad in earthy-toned, mostly everyday dress, seem to tease each other.

The choreography is equally stripped back. It’s largely oblique although there are what appear to some few direct connections to the lyrics and their meaning. A woman’s hand flutters like a heart. An agitated dance suggests longing. A woman lays on a man as if a lover, but only for a moment. “I slept but my heart was awake,” in the song evokes a dream of a woman being chased by then playing with her lover. There is no central couple although Melissa Toogood and Zachary Gonder are often to the fore.

There are a lot of straight lines and angular poses. Danced in bare feet, the fabulous cast flip easily between bouncy and earthy. Bodies bend and twist. They are held in difficult balances. Accuracy, clarity and precision is never lost, however. Not even for a second. And it’s often surprisingly delicate with it. At times, it is reminiscent of Merce Cunningham, although there are a lot of classical ballet steps and hints of Martha Graham too.

There are times when it is all like game, not least in a couple of follow-my-leader moments. But elsewhere it seems heavier and more meaningful. Dancers sometimes hold each other as if, in all the comings and goings, out of the crowd, they have found a soulmate.

Tanowitz is Jewish and you don’t have to look too hard to find choreographic references to that heritage in simple folk dance steps and patterns, notably from the hora, a circle dance popular at Jewish weddings. But, always, the folk origins are stripped away.

A strange few minutes towards the end sees first one, then eventually the whole cast change into shiny lycra one-pieces. Everything suddenly feels very different. The choreography is relatively freer. But while it looks like it should be a celebration, something about it doesn’t convince.

The end is sublime, the dancers and the scene fading away as the lights dim. It’s like the sun going down. As darkness arrives and for just a few seconds, the stars come out, each feeling like a trace of the people who have now left.

In fact, the whole hour is quite divine. About as far from MOS, downstairs in the Pit as part of Dance Umbrella that it is possible to get.

Dance about dancing, and to super music. It will never catch on.