In the Raw

The nudity may be toned down for Asian audiences but the confrontational extremes of choreographer Wim Vandekeybus’ dance fusion performance could still make you Blush, writes P.Ramakrishnan.

THE POSTERS PROMOTING Blush, scattered around MTR stations and advertised on billboards are unabashedly deceptive of what one can expect from Wim Vandekeybus’ dance troupe. A portrait of a nude couple, entwined underwater and aglow like paintings from an erstwhile era says little of the show. There isn’t a hint of the fusion of theatrical extremes that the director/choreographer/dancer/photographer’s presenting. Vandekeybus’ production, Blush, seems like a reflection of his copious CV, it’s a dance poetry-film dramatisation that’s a hybrid of his interest and passions.

“For me, it’s very natural to mix and match all these different art forms," he says. “It’s more artificial to show just a dance, just a film, just one thing. That’s too rehearsed, contrived and set in its form. If you can do all this and inhabit one body, then it is the same in a show where you can see poetry being read, a drama, a dance, a film all together. They are all different ways of expressing and of expressions.”

Trying to describe the show and the osmosis of various art forms is difficult. A woman takes centre-stage and in a passion-filled voice almost sings out verses in French while actors and dancers crop up behind her, unexpectedly jack-knifing mid-air, yelping out noises like bullets in the wind. The woman seems not to notice the movements behind her, not even when a man, with a live frog, appears and holds up the amphibian by its leg over her face. Then the mood and scene change.

“On stage I’m exploring the beauty and the ugliness of people, their actions, especially between men and women,” the choreographer says. “But what I find beautiful, you might not. There’s something very attractive or perhaps intriguing about something that’s particularly ugly. There’s also ugliness in something of extreme beauty.”


Vanekeybus created his company Ultima Vez (Brussels) after working with the legendary Ian Fabre. His first production, What the Body Does Not Remember, picked up a slew of awards (including the New York Bessie Award, given to a work of dance and performance every year in the US) and he’s not looked back since. After picking up another Bessie Award in 1990, he collected the Prague D’or, for co-directing Roseland (1991), a video compilation of his choreographic works, set in a dilapidated Brussels cinema. More films, documentaries and videos followed, always under the umbrella of dance and performance art. Not only has he choreographed and directed Blush, the 15th creation with Ultima Vez, he’s also part of the 10-man dance troupe on stage.

His previous production, In Spite of Wishing and Wanting, had an all-male cast exploring the dreams and desires of men through interpretive dance. The follow-up, Scratching The Inner Fields, was performed by women only. “I don’t think you can explore the ambiguous relationship between men and women without having them together. Here, there are dancers and actors performing together from Russia, France, Vietnam and other places and trained dancers with actors who are not used to expressing themselves in such a physical way. It’s created an interesting energy.”

Indeed, a restless energy permeates the antics on stage. There’s never a dull moment as at any given time a group of actors or dancers inhabit separate sections of the stage. If one is in frantic motion with music, the other is silent and slow. At other parts, there’s a barrage of activity from all points of the stage. Some dancers dive into the large white screens that wall the stage and suddenly appear in the film that immediately begins where their stage performance seemingly ends. “The act doesn’t end, it continues in motion in the screen. I see myself as a story-teller who in as many ways as possible tries to lift the narrative, to showcase the changes of the personalities of people performing. I want to bring that to the stage. I’ve always wanted to incorporate my interest in cinema and photography on the stage in a different manner. It’s a mixture and melee of a lot of movies.”


If the languid movements at the ballet-tic dancers are graceful when live on stage. it’s almost liquid on screen. Shot underwater, with dolphins and frogs making cameos across the celluloid, the choreographed piece is extraordinary, visceral in vision and form. “The bodies underwater show a wonderful dichotomy of being completely free and liberating but then it’s also claustrophobic. You’re trapped in the water. The beauty you see is a mixture of paradise and the netherworld. Pleasure and pain. To have such freedom of movement and life underwater is paradise for some, while others can see it as underwater hell.”

As with any art form, particularly in an interpretative dance drama such as this, how the audience feels and understands what it sees is subjective. The press in Europe has dished out mixed reviews about his work, calling it a “spectacle” and nothing more, while others appreciated “the remarkable truth of [Vandekeybus’] piece is caught in the gaps between words, in the rich and finely tuned mix of movement, music and silence”.

The director is wide open to reactions, be they good or bad. “Blush is supposed to provoke you,” he says. “There is so much happening in the two-hour show that you don’t have time to react during it, but afterwards. As this is the premier in Asia, in Hong Kong, I’m really interested in looking at the audience, their reaction, what they have to say and come back to me with. Since it was first staged in Belgium a year ago, Blush has been performed 50 times across Europe and with every place, it’s a different reaction.”

Flitting about stage there is one dancer who appears as God intended. “In Europe, nudity is not a big deal. My intention certainly is not to shock with the nudity because my audience no longer gets shocked by it. In Asia, I am sensitive to the audience and what is considered a norm there, so I think I will change part of the performance. The nudity is not integral to the production. It’s not for shock value so I might change it. There have been slight variations to performances made as its staged in different countries, nothing is set in stone.”



Blush, Kwai Tsing Theatre.
A post-performance Meet the Artist session with the director and choreographer will be held after the show.

Seize the Moment for Music and Mischief

With a nod to Burns night on Saturday, P.Ramakrishnan kicks up his heels and learns a thing or two about Scottish dancing.


AT FIRST GLANCE, the four row of eight couples poised to begin the beginner’s class of Scottish country dancing at the Hong Kong Cricket Club reminds me of a dance session at Ernakulam, in Southern India.

Nearly two decades ago, I saw a dancer begin a recital with her amateur troupe for Bharatnatyam, one of the oldest forms of classical south Indian dance. In similar rows, boys and girls stood in rigid anticipation as their guru rhythmically tapped a wooden stick on a circular, wooden pan. Every pupil’s blunder was met with a harsh, khol-laden glare and major flaw was met with the stick, the trainer would fold the tail of her sair into her waist, march to the offender and give the aberrant limb a bone-crunching whack.

I snap back to the reality of Wong Nai Chung Gap Road by the accordion music, guffaws and spontaneous claps of the eclectic group of enthusiasts in an eight step dance programme. The “Kingston Flyer”, the “Chase”, the “Wheelie” and other arcane terms rang around the room and with relative ease, the novices fell into place as instructed.

Without the obvious sophistication of the waltz, the hint of eroticism of the tango or the near impossibility of the Irish river dance, Scottish country dancing doesn’t attract much press or praise. Picture lads in kilts and jackets, their feet strapped with ghillies, as legs move to and fro with their partners, women dressed in white dresses with tartan sashes. They create kindergarten-esque little bridges, which hand-held couples duck in and out of, and alternative versions of the merry-go0round are played out. A series of coordinated steps look undemanding, but miss a beat and the whole collective body-in-motion goes out of sync. As with any performing art, it’s never as easy as it looks.

With a nod to Burns Night on Saturday, which commemorates Scotland’s finest poet, Robert Burns, and in celebration of all things Scottish, I jump in at the deep end of the discipline with my effervescent fellow neophytes. After a two-hour session, I am told I have the “right flair” for it and am asked if I’ve done it before. Brushing aside all merit and flattery, I meet the instructors after class.

Jean Young, champion of this art in Hong Kong, never loses her smile or temper throughout her sessions. Her feet clad in flat, dancing pumps – similar to ballet shoes but with a full sole – she displays unflagging grace. Sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor, sock or stocking-clad feet repeatedly slip, and late-starters encounter misdirected bodies, but nothing can spoil the air of mischief, music and movement.

“it was introduced in Hong Kong about 50 years ago, when Scottish dancing lessons were held at the old union Church – mainly to keep the soldiers out of trouble,” says co-instructor Annette Stabb. “To provide good, wholesome entertainment and to meet people, that was the goal. It was always held on Monday night and its’ just been that way ever since.”

The dancing may be Scottish in origin, but I has spread to the unlikeliest of places. There are lessons available in Grenoble, in south-eastern France, in San Francisco, Germany’s University of Dortmund, Jakarta and Singapore. “it isn’t as simple as some of the folk dances that come out of the United Kingdom and I think that’s the main attract,” says Young. “There’s more to do, a pattern to follow. And, of course, anyone can do it at any age. An eight-year-old can partner an 80-year – it’s something for everyone.”

Scottish country dancing is not to be confused with Highland dancing, a more complicated affair seen iat fairs and festivals. “The original Highland dancing is strictly a competition sport now, mostly for young girls,” Young Says. “There are no qualified instructors in Hong Kong and there are some here who know bits and pieces, but not enough to teach complete lessons. Scottish country dancing is a more social affair performed at weddings, parties and get-togethers.”

For most students, these lessons don’t culminate in public performances or on stage but the exceptional few are invited to join the advanced class, where people do dance on occasions.

“We were asked to perform at the launch of a new whiskey in Hong Kong and at school fairs. The Racial Harmony Fair and folk festivals have welcomed us,” says Young. “Oh and there was that one performance at Seibu. It was a strange experience to be country dancing in the middle of a supermarket but if asked, I’m sure we’d go just about anywhere.”




The Hong Kong Highlanders Reel Club holds courses in Scottish country dancing at the Hong Kong Cricket club, 137 Wong Nai Chung Gap Road, Happy Valley.