Dance review: At the Chutzpah! Festival, double bill dives into the passing of time
Ne.Sans Opera & Dance’s About Time acknowledges relentlessness of news cycle, while Livona Ellis and Rebecca Margolick’s Fortress examines femininity and matriarchs
Will Jessup in About Time. Photo by Chris Randle
A Dance Double Bill of Fortress and About Time played at the Scotiabank Dance Centre on November 8 and 9 as part of the Chutzpah! Festival
THE FIRST SCENE the audience sees in Ne.Sans Opera & Dance’s About Time is incredibly symbolic of what’s to come: as pianist Leslie Dala sits poised at the ready before his keys, dancer Will Jessup appears behind him and slowly lowers a giant newspaper in front of Dala’s face.
Abstract concepts of time, represented here by way of a relentless and often-overwhelming news cycle, are at the centre of this duet choreographed by Idan Cohen. Premiering as part of a Dance Double Bill at the Chutzpah! Festival alongside Livona Ellis and Rebecca Margolick’s Fortress, the work is a follow-up to Cohen’s memorable 2022 feat Hourglass, an ensemble work that showed the distinct stages of human life pass by in five acts set to composer Philip Glass’s 20 Piano Études.
Will Jessup in About Time. Photo by Chris Randle
In About Time, Cohen takes a slightly less-literal approach to the concept of a ticking clock, and it pays off effectively. Jessup is joined onstage by duet partner Benjamin DeFaria while Dala revisits Glass’s études No. 2 and No. 20 with understated perfection, his notes pure and deeply evocative. Minimalist repetition envelops the dancers throughout like a gentle lullaby.
Moments at the start of the piece feel troubling: we see Jessup making vulture-style neck jerks while reading the paper; he convulses on the ground, then shuffles quickly in a circle on the balls of his feet while crouched down low, nose in the newspaper once more. These visual oddities are paired with sequences that demonstrate Jessup’s eye-catching fluidity as a dancer. DeFaria’s presence, meanwhile, is a bit more brooding. He makes strong shapes in space, folding in on himself with abrupt precision and power.
There’s one scene in which DeFaria sports a conical party hat made from newspaper; elsewhere, Jessup holds a newspaper-origami boat, moving it smoothly up and down as if it’s cresting waves. At another point, the printed material even becomes a sleeveless A-line dress for Jessup. News is everywhere, and everything, About Time seems to point out—it is a silent presence through all stages of life, from playing in the bathtub as a child to celebrating a 50th birthday. Cohen’s statement feels especially timely in an era during which news headlines about war and elections continue to weigh heavy on the heart.
Perhaps it’s not all bad, though, as we see when Jessup reaches out a cautious hand to DeFaria. After a moment’s hesitation, DeFaria grasps it gently. A relieved hug between the two evolves into a gentle slow-dance, and we’re left feeling that connection is still possible in the face of fear.
Fortress. Photo by Benjamin Peralta
Connection figures interestingly in Fortress, too. Ellis and Margolick have crafted a duet that examines their evolving relationship to femininity, drawing on references to matriarchs. Outfitted in silk short-sleeve button-ups and dark slacks, they engage in languid movements, mirroring each other’s images glacially slow as they arch their backs to the ceiling, heads flung back and arms scooping up and over their heads. When finally they connect physically to bear weight on one another, it brings relief.
The pair’s unison falters momentarily, partway through the piece, noticeable only due to the incredibly slow pace of the movements. But otherwise, the amount of control demonstrated here is impeccable. When the piece starts to pick up the tempo, scenes of repetitive rocking from heel to toe exude a soothing energy, while periodic blackouts see the pair halt mid-movement and then flawlessly pick up a new phrase when the lights return. A standout moment comes during a solo from Ellis, in which she stares at the audience with a hopeful expression, caressing her face with tender hands. The stunningly intimate choreographic choice invites the audience into a scene of pensive self-love.
There’s also a powerful moment of nudity in which Ellis and Margolick are on their knees facing the crowd, fully hinged over at the hips with fists planted firmly on the stage floor and hair dangling down. We bear witness to the raw strength rippling through the duo’s back muscles in unison as they slowly transfer weight from arm to arm. It’s an especially striking commentary on how femininity can also be expressed through physical prowess.
A coat rack packed full of clothes that looms in the corner of the stage throughout the show finally comes into play when Ellis and Margolick dress up a folding chair like a classy elderly woman. It’s outfitted with a shimmery navy top, gold skirt, floral cardigan and scarf, primly poised hat, stockings in kitten heels, and rose-coloured glasses—perhaps a subtle nod to how femininity is often depicted—before the dancers plunk themselves down on two more folding chairs, hunched over and staring blankly into space.
The orchestral theme from Days of Our Lives rings out, and a few chuckles arise from the audience as the soap’s opening line crackles over the speakers: “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.” It’s a refreshing acknowledgement that a woman’s relationship to her femininity evolves with the inevitable passing of time.
The comprehensive take on femininity in Fortress feels relatable and balanced, while About Time is intensely memorable and ever-relevant. In their own way, each provides insight into the passing of time—and how it doesn’t have to be negative if we can find connection along the way. 
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