Shuiyuan Theater, Taipei
April 26, 2024
This promising-looking evening was billed as a coming together of the Youth Ballet Ensemble of Taiwan (臺灣優勢力芭蕾舞團) and BAOTanz (Chien Hua-bao, 葆舞壂), but only so much as it was a joint presentation. The young dancers of YBET were sadly nowhere to be seen in a double bill that was, in fact, a showcase for four of Taiwan’s established artists.
Best of the two pieces was the second, Reflection (倒影) by Circus P.S. (方式馬戲) artistic director Fang Yi-ru (方意如), a dancer and contemporary circus specialist with considerable European and home experience. The work starts slowly but warms up nicely by the end of its twenty minutes or so.
The opening section, in silence, sees Chien Hua-bao (簡華葆), a contemporary ballet teacher at the National Taiwan University of the Arts (NTUA, 國立台灣藝術大學), very much the support, for Fang. The circus influence in the choreography is clear, but it’s neatly judged and never overdone. While the couple are inseparable, for while it does feel quite ‘position-to-position’ with little flow, though.
Photo Chang Chia-hao
But increasingly, as they learn from each other, while never quite a mirror-like reflection, you sense a stronger, quite real relationship developing, and Chien getting a bigger role. The choreography gets more interesting too, even a little quirky. There are telling, almost playful, smiles and glances from Fang, and when she leaps into Chien’s arms, you sense she really means it.
Top marks too for the very stylish costumes by Tsai Ho-tian (蔡浩天), white jackets and trousers with grey print, and Chang Jing-hsiang’s (張景翔) sparse lighting. It did seem odd that one or other of the couple managed not to stand is the spotlights on several occasions, though.
Ankh (安卡) by Chen Wei-ning (陳維寧), one of the few artists in Taiwan specialising in Argentine Tango, not that there was any sign of it here, fared less well.
The work takes its title from the powerful and versatile Egyptian symbol that was central to the religion, mythology, culture, and daily life of the ancient Egyptians, and that remains important to this day. Depicted in countless artifacts and often seen in the hands of gods and pharaohs, where it represented divine power and authority, it was believed to have the power to give life, both physically and spiritually. Add in connections with the Nile, and you have a lot of material to play with.
Photo Chang Chia-hao
The action all takes place on or around a very large piece of fabric. The atmospheric lighting (Chang again) suggests a large room, sunlight coming in through windows high above. The impression that it’s a palace is magnified when Chien, appropriately in gold and white, mimes putting a crown on his head.
The narrative and the thematic do get confused as they run up against each other, however. Shortly after Chien has ‘crowned’ himself, Li Hui-wen (李蕙雯), also a NTUA lecturer, appeared from under the fabric, which looked for all the world like the Pharoah’s bed. The programme note suggests that the scene represents being reborn. But, at the time, and especially given the floor-based duet that followed in which for some time we only see his upper body and her legs, the stronger impression was that she and he had been sleeping together.
The dance is largely slow-paced with Chien doing a lot of hauling the fabric around. A couple of middle-of-the-road contemporary solos hint at classical ballet, but no more. There’s what appears to be a fight, and hints of authority and death, but the pair seem very detached. It ends with them walking upstage into another ‘room’ but meaning remained stubbornly obtuse in an idea and a work that promised much, but struggled to deliver.