In Between Spaces opened with a serene image—Amsterdam’s Cherif Zaouali and Vincent Verburg (choreographer), kneeling under spotlights, eyes firmly shut. Luscious colors saturated the backdrop and several video monitors. A soundscape offered only gentleness—a chiming bell, electronic blips. Each man raised a hand to his chest or drew it to his side. Then, still sightless, they sliced open and began to dump out a big bag of interactions—sculpted, primal, remarkably improvised—even spilling into the aisle between the club’s clusters of tables. (Perched on a folding chair within an inch of muscular men lunging, tussling, repeatedly slamming against the floor, a viewer feels—and fears—the energy.) One segment featured loud music and an explosion of clips ripped from Dutch television, hammering home Verburg’s less-than-fresh ideas about technology pulverizing human life. The men’s dancing was solid throughout about 40 minutes of visceral distress, and well worth the upset.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on December 28, 2004