Theater archives

Two Takes on Primal Rage—One Global, One Personal


Translated literally, the French entorse means “sprain”; used figuratively, it denotes “infringement.” Both pieces given by La Compagnie de l’Entorse—the French David G. Trétiakoff and the Danish Charlotte Schioler—tackle transgressive extremes. Both—essentially simple, raw depictions of escalating hysteria—depend almost entirely on Schioler’s gift for expressionist dance. In Lynndie England, named for one of the vilest subjects of amateur photography in the American military, Schioler verbally tortures her victim-prisoner (a passive Trétiakoff, hooded with a crumpled paper bag). Soon she works herself up into a bodily sexual frenzy that seems intended to explain the woman’s unconscionable behavior. Finally, the tables are turned, with a weak attempt to make a moral point about events in which morality has fled the scene. In No Space, Schioler’s on her own, potently acting out a claustrophobia that’s simultaneously physical and, contagiously, psychic.

Seaside shenanigans make good buddies

Regina Nejman makes dances driven by spunky female agendas and irrepressible rhythms. Her latest, The Velocity of Things, takes us to the beach. Four luscious young women join Nejman, whose beauty is seasoned and wise, and a lone lanky guy. Everyone wears bathing togs that hark back to ’40s movies. The ladies switch between shiny screaming-red stilettos and bare feet, not for the sake of costume change but to propose different physical stances and emotional attitudes. Tin buckets abound, filled with “sand” that gets poured back and forth like the contents of an hourglass. From the title of the piece, you’d expect investigations of varying speeds; what you come away with is proof that postmodern tactics can benefit from an infusion of the color, pulse, and spirit Nejman absorbed in her native Brazil. The hour-plus piece goes on far too long for its content, but any 15-minute segment of it can safely be called gorgeous.