Caos on F

Remaining Performances:
Saturday, July 21, 2:00 p.m.
Saturday, July 28, 7:15 p.m.

They say: “We are incessant. Unrelenting. We withstand without withholding. It surges forth and, in a rush, changes. Settles. But only for a moment. Only this once.”

Rachel’s take: Colony, a dance/movement show, leaves itself open to interpretation.  I thought it was about the particular movements of women’s bodies—I would say particularly attractive/commercialized women’s bodies— that aren’t part of just living your life.  I saw Vanna White displaying fabulous prizes, and women Broadway-style dancing and club-style dancing, and I saw the elliptical trainer and, um, acting.

The dance-knowledgeable person I saw the show with said it was about love, and the emotional risk at the beginning of a relationship, of trying to merge.  But she also told me she evaluated the show based on her body’s response to it, so…wow, really?  Anyway, she wanted to get up and dance with them.  Since there wasn’t enough seating or a set stage area, they danced all around and among us.

“They” are Kelly Bond and Melissa Krodman, probably the unrelenting, incessant “we” of the show’s summary.  They are two young choreographer/dancers in leotards, incredibly in sync throughout the show’s changes in pace and style.  When you walk in and when you walk out they are doing a kind of running in place/synchronized swimming pattern for minutes longer than seems possible.

The very awkwardness of the sentence I just typed has convinced me I can’t really describe what they do without interpreting it, so I’ll just tell you how, um, my brain responded.  And other audience members. We laughed a good bit—especially one lady who at one point broke into fits of laughter, the kind in which you have to stop in order to inhale, and then have three seconds of calm only to collapse back into the laughing.

Exaggerated, out of context snippets of a dance-hall type number (“just you and nobody else but you”) and a romantic scene reflected back for us the patent absurdity of much of what people do on stages—all people, but especially hot women—and how much we the viewers like hearing that they love us, just us.  And what a large percentage of plays, movies and TV are devoted to attractive people beautifully declaring or showing love and desire for an audience surrogate.  It IS absurd, and sad, and probably immutable, the way dogs never get tired of fetch.  But also neat.  Humans sure are neat.

Anyway, that’s what I got from the show, which is probably the only dance performance I will see all year.  Even if you don’t consider yourself a dance person, and even if you think the show is “about” something else entirely, it is so visceral and surprising—little games of chicken emerged every time an audience member was in a dancer’s way, and the dancers always won—and physically impressive that it’ll make you feel something.

And of course, hot women in leotards, bouncing. Sell it, ladies, sell it.

See it if: You would see more modern dance shows if you knew they would be fun.

Skip it if: You like a storyline and a fourth wall.

DISCLOSURE: The author appears as an actor in The Cloudism Project in this year’s Capital Fringe Festival.