Dance review: Story, story, die. crackles with intensity
Moments of playfulness pop up in arresting full-length work by Norway’s winter guests
Story, story, die.
DanceHouse presents winter guests’ Story, story, die at the Vancouver Playhouse on June 22 and 23 at 8 pm; a pre-show chat with artistic director Alan Lucien Øyen takes place at 7:15 pm
“DO YOU LIKE ME? I follow you. You’re my friend. I like you.” These are some of the phrases that the microphoned-dancers say in Story, story, die., a fiercely intense full-length work by Norway’s winter guests that explores our obsession with social media—and all the angst that comes with it.
If you’ve ever found yourself scrolling through Instagram or going down the rabbit hole that is Facebook only to realize how much time you’ve wasted—possibly fooling yourself along the way into thinking that the lives of those around you are far happier, fuller, and more successful than your own—you’ll be able to relate to the accelerating anxiety that pulses through the piece. Choreographed and written by winter guests artistic director Alan Lucien Øyen in close collaboration with the performers, it digs into the ways people present themselves to the world, the lies we tell and the lies we buy, through cleverly crafted gestural phrases, many of which are executed on repeat—bodies lurching, lunging, crawling, or collapsing; limbs jutting out, circling oneself, or slicing the air. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth: these sequences are like the Boomerang feature on Instagram or so many looping thoughts. Along with Øyen’s cinematic staging, dramatic music intensifies the effect; recurring passages (including an especially haunting, spare piano section in a minor key) crackle throughout.
While there’s a predominance of mental torment here—why do we make our quest for love, belonging, and happiness so complicated?—such moments are punctuated by playfulness. There’s a sly crow reference that locals will love, as well as a tune by Mr. Rogers. One of the dancers speaks of self-deprecating thoughts while cavorting across the stage and contorting her body every which way; another dons a bear suit and breaks out into dance-club moves. Whatever that furry costume is meant to signify isn’t clear, but no matter; just like on the Interweb, all sorts of wild and seemingly random images pop up in the work.
What is evident is the dancers’ rigorous training and technique; they’ve mastered Story, story, die.’s physically sharp and emotionally gutting language. The score, assembled by the crack team of sound designers Terje Wessel Øverland and Gunnar Innvær, features everything from a disembodied voice to footsteps that get faster to piercing gunshots along with the most moving piano-based compositions and some sultry jazz.
Story, story, die. would have had just as hard-hitting an impact with a slightly tighter edit in terms of duration. But maybe that’s the point: when something sucks you in, it can be hard to pull yourself out.
There’s just one more chance to catch the visiting company’s arresting work, with Story, story, die. bringing DanceHouse’s season to a close tonight.
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