Dance review: Compagnie Catherine Gaudet's Les jolies choses offers bold reflections on conformity
At DanceHouse, work that builds on repetition is a testament to five dancers’ stellar stamina and attention to detail
Les jolies choses (The Pretty Things). Photo by Donatas Ališauskas
DanceHouse presents Compagnie Catherine Gaudet’s Les jolies choses (The Pretty Things) continues at the Vancouver Playhouse on November 23 at 8 pm
BY THE END of Compagnie Catherine Gaudet’s Les jolies choses (The Pretty Things), the five dancers on-stage are drenched in sweat, and rightfully so. This piece is a nonstop display of physical prowess in which the performers are overtaken by mechanical repetition that’s riveting throughout.
Minimalism is at the core of the work, which demands serious precision from dancers Scott McCabe, Lauren Semeschuk, Caroline Gravel, Dany Desjardins, and James Phillips. When the lights first illuminate them, they’re outfitted simply in grey, white, and beige unitards, standing motionless on-stage facing different directions. Then Gravel starts to move; for a solid few minutes, she repeats a short pattern in which her arms bend at the elbow and then project out and down, while everyone else remains still as a statue. There’s no music, either, and the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.
It’s an effective start to the piece that allows ample room for the build-up of intensity that follows. As the rest of the dancers stir to life, they operate like cogs in a machine, all stony-faced and compliant while moving right-angled arms and rigid torso turns. Later on, those stiff robotic movements become more full-bodied and flowing; it’s a welcome change in texture that hints at the possibility of freedom.
What’s at play here is a series of sequences, angles, and formations that may look simple enough, but are strung together in a way that requires the utmost attention to detail. The dancers execute all this unbelievably well. Their pattern memorization is off the charts, and there’s a great sense of spatial awareness demonstrated by everyone on-stage. At one point, for instance, the dancers form ranks centre-stage to make a straight line that begins turning on itself as they step counterclockwise around the space. Within that line, their individual angles and moves are also matched. It all seems to require a great amount of focus; when someone steps even the slightest bit out of line, it’s immediately corrected, emphasizing this group’s impressive unity. After a while, it becomes apparent that Les jolies choses must take an incredible amount of stamina and athleticism to perform, too. But commendably, at no point do the dancers look physically tired.
Les jolies choses (The Pretty Things). Photo by Donatas Ališauskas
A few moments of rebellion help keep the piece’s intrigue alive. McCabe in particular really excels at these; when the dancers are rotating in their line again, all of a sudden McCabe breaks out into a series of celebratory punches and head bangs, loosening up their limbs and dropping all inhibitions for just a few beats, before reintegrating seamlessly into the surrounding synchronicity. Spotting that sliver of freedom amid so much restricted movement is like a breath of fresh air.
A soundtrack by Antoine Berthiaume fades in near the start of the work, soft and meditative, with a high-pitched monotone voice repeating “dun, dun, dun” to keep everyone in time. The dancers also chime in sporadically with counts of their own—some in French, some in English—like “Six, sept, huit!”. Then there’s a sequence in which they sing out “la-la, la-la, la-la-la” to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” in an eerily childlike sort of way, bearing huge grins and letting out laughter.
Even their amusement feels structured, though, as they continue jumping back and forth in unison. So when a heavy-metal track blares over the speakers near the end of the piece, it’s exhilarating to watch them give in to unfettered individuality.
Les jolies choses is a true testament to both the athleticism and technical abilities of the artists performing it. By going back to the basics of spacing and timing, Gaudet has created an enduring work that offers larger reflections on the concepts of conformity and getting stuck in cycles—and in all honesty, it’s a wonder the dancers didn’t collapse on the floor by the end of this huge feat. The standing ovation was definitely in order. 
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