Dance review: Murmuration's skaters soar through a phenomenally liberated performance
In the DanceHouse presentation, Le Patin Libre’s artists emulate bird flocks with unfettered glides and layers of emotion
Murmuration. Photo by Nora Houguenade
DanceHouse presents Le Patin Libre’s Murmuration with community partner Canada Ice Dance Theatre at Kerrisdale Cyclone Taylor Arena to March 23
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN the chilly ice-rink air, but more likely it was the truly jaw-dropping skill of Le Patin Libre’s virtuoso performers that raised goosebumps during Murmuration.
At Kerrisdale Cyclone Taylor Arena, 15 skaters glide effortlessly over the ice, moving in and out of formations as they mimic flocks of birds. Changes in arm movement instantly shift the tone: graceful flaps allow them to float gently around the rink, while blade-like speed-skating pumps propel them powerfully through space. They soar within millimetres of each other with the unflinching confidence that they won’t collide.
It’s a one-of-a-kind combination of ice skating, contemporary movement, and street dance from the minds of performer-choreographers Alexandre Hamel, Pascale Jodoin, and Samory Ba—and it’s downright breathtaking.
There are some delightfully comedic moments in Murmuration that elicit laughs from the audience. Take, for instance, the sequence when all the skaters scooch close together against the rink board and hop backwards onto it in sudden unison, sitting there like birds on a telephone wire while clacking their skates against the board in a cacophony of chirps and caws. Elsewhere, they form a flamboyance of flamingos and stick their arms up one by one, curling their hands into beak shapes. They putter across the ice, jerking their “beaks” to and fro (hilariously, it’s how the pink birds choose their mates in the wild). Cheeky instances like these, all perfectly executed by the skaters, really add levity to the piece.
But there’s also great emotional depth in the way Murmuration addresses isolation. This is most apparent when the flockmates take turns skating toward one performer at top speed, diverting themselves at the last second and covering him in a layer of ice shards. He curls inwards in defeat, ankles sickled and shoulders hunched, an image of sheer sadness that tugs at the heartstrings. Later, Hamel takes on the energy of a bird of prey; gliding around with strong, sweeping arms, he tries to separate the flock, chasing the other skaters down and sending a few hurtling to the ice. Despite all the division, the performers eventually come back together. It’s a surprisingly profound comment on the importance of uplifting one another in times of hardship.
At one point in Murmuration, Le Patin Libre’s bird-like performers cover one of their own in shards of ice as they hard-stop inches away. Photo by Nora Houguenade
Murmuration’s dreamy symphonic soundscape by Philippe Le Bon and Jasmin Boivin is fit for an uplifting wildlife documentary. The ASMR-inducing tone of skates scraping against ice is an equal part of the auditory experience; at one point when a reverberating beat starts up, the artists use the sharp whooshing of their skates to create a boom-clap noise pattern.
Yoann Tivoli’s lighting design is just as essential here. There’s a cool scene where neon-green laser beams project a grid onto the ice, illuminating the rink in an eerie glow as the performers skate in neat, mathematically precise rows. Deep red imparts an intensely ominous feel to the performers, while a bright spotlight beams sideways as the music crescendos, creating the intensity of a sunrise.
At one point in the piece, a clever breakdance influence sweeps in. One performer does a six-step in his skates, then places one hand on the ice and kicks his legs up into a freeze. The other skaters whirl around him, forming a breakdance cypher. The scene is packed with off-the-charts choreographic innovation, and the soloist whips his blades around with unfettered bravery.
Perhaps most impressive is how Murmuration turns the basics of ice skating into a brand of artistry all its own. Hamel is the only performer to deliver major tricks, a few rotating jumps throughout that are executed so cleanly he makes them look easy. But while sensational, somehow they’re not essential to the piece—they’re just the cherry on top of an already captivating show.
As the skaters soar across the ice, stripped of all human inhibitions, it’s clear that Le Patin Libre (French for “free skate”) epitomizes the meaning of its name. With how phenomenally liberated these artists look, Murmuration is just as exhilarating to watch as it surely is to perform. 
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