Unlike painters, say, it’s rare for a choreographer to have a retrospective. But in Play, Charlotte Vincent has created her own: 30 years of work skimmed through in 90 minutes. The piece came out of the reckonings of Covid times, brutal for performers who were suddenly stopped in their tracks and forced to stay home and evaluate their purpose in life. In her programme note, Vincent paints a pessimistic picture – artists leaving the sector, the closure of dance degree courses, culture funding being cut – and what she presents on stage is a mix of the ominous and strangely hopeful.
Play is a journey through Vincent’s back catalogue, video clips on a screen, then choice scenes reenacted on stage. It’s fascinating to glimpse the worlds she’s created – wry, amusing, wistful, eccentric – and her progression as an artist, from the energetic contact improvisation of 1994’s Noli Me Tangere; to Pina Bausch-esque scenes in the early 2000s; to 2012’s Motherland and a switch into more forthright politics. Then Vincent began a series of works that used real voices, powerful testimonies reflecting on subjects including teenage sexuality (Virgin Territory, 2016/17) and the care system (In Loco Parentis, 2020).
The twist in this retelling is that live on stage, four of the five performers are teenagers, dancing steps created before they were born. They’re very impressive performers, but they’re not stagey – there’s a naturalness to their movement, a hint of naivety and unjaded energy about being on stage. It’s a way for Vincent to get back in touch with her own youthful enthusiasm, perhaps, even though the mood descends into the glum. At one point, the adult cast member, Aurora Lubos, picks up the mic, breaks the fourth wall and goes off on one: “Nobody smiles any more!” she opines, blaming it on the director – more of this meta commentary could really elevate this show.
But Vincent’s commitment to working with young people (she’s made a number of shows with young casts) suggests a faith in the future, or perhaps a passing of the baton, although the young dancers look mildly terrified as Lubos leaves them to it. There may be uncertainty about what’s to come, but Play does make you think we should appreciate dance’s back catalogue more often.
