A double-bill in the Dance Reflections festival unintentionally pairs two pieces in which you feel the minutes very slowly passing. In Boris Charmatz’s Infini, the performers themselves are tracking those passing moments. A dancer’s life is soundtracked by counts, but these dancers are on a journey way past “5-6-7-8”. They count out numbers from the smallest fractions towards infinity, rising and falling, doubling back and changing direction like an Escher staircase. The digits resonate as ages, years, historical anniversaries, countdowns, counting sheep, and move towards anticipated climaxes, time racing and slowing.
It’s all very clever, a feat of concentration for the performers who are also cavorting around in snatches of dance moves – from ballet to krump to playing an invisible violin – with a general air of absurdity. The experience of watching teeters between interesting and irritating; you can sometimes feel the sense of eternity the choreographer is exploring. A stage full of spinning flickering lights are physically difficult to watch. “Tiring,” said my friend. Later she amended herself: “Tiresome.”
