Review: Sharon Eyal’s R.O.S.E – the gimmick outshone the material

As one heads down the dark staircase at Sadler’s Wells East, getting ever closer to the house music already pumping, I was reminded of my own London-based youth in the mid to late 90s.

The theatre has been transformed into a nightclub environment: the DJ – Call Super – is in place, bashing out the very good toons, there’s a bar on the left-hand side for libations, and three sides of the space have very gradual raised platforms in the form of steps.

Sharon Eyal (and Gai Behar) want their audience to become accustomed to the space, so we all just basically wait/boogie to the music for around 30 minutes. It’s not a bad experience… but some of us, including me, probably didn’t fully immerse as we were on the watch for any potential dancers/dance action taking place in a dark corner of the room.

When the troupe arrived, they did so in a flash. The lights beamed in the centre of the space, and the 8 dancers were immediately of another world.

Initially placed in a type of nucleus, the dancers loosened and started to move around the space. Their placement felt of the moment but also hyper-aware, as their collective, magnetic connection allowed them to move as a (slightly) distanced whole, which in turn made the audience part ways in an organic response to what was happening around them.

The above analysis is basically the crux of the piece: Eyal is controlling the space through the movement of the dancers, so in turn she’s also choreographing the space and anyone who’s in it. And my fellow club patrons absolutely followed Eyal’s orders – ebbing and flowing around the dancers and environment like well-rehearsed lemmings. At one point I saw Eyal observing from a corner on the opposite side of the current action. Her raised, distanced position gave her a Svengali air.

The dancers come and go, generally offering excerpts of around 5-7 minutes of movement. And when they’re absent, the audience becomes the dance itself. We normally go to the theatre to observe, that’s how we engage with the art form, but here Eyal offers a deepened, embodied experience for her audience. Why only watch when you can become a part of the artistic moment in time itself?

It’s interesting to see the dancers/crowd from different vantage points. Fluid sightlines mean not everything can be fully observed, unless you want to spend your night second-guessing Eyal’s choreographic flight path and running around after the dancers. However, if fate is on your side, and a close encounter presents itself, the meeting is a special one.

Mine saw the dancers pass by in a possessed chain, linked by hands, moving forwards on tiptoe with an air of timid inquisitiveness. Up close their lithe bodies are covered in nude tone, lace lycra provided by fashion designer Maria Grazia Chiuri (of Dior at the time) and their faces are stained around the lips and eyes with what can only be described as Rouge Noir in tone, or blood.

Who are Eyal’s creatures? Part human, animal and mystical being, they seem physically aware, verging on the sexual, predominantly melancholy and ready to rage in movement at the drop of a hat. Like most club-goers, one could argue.

I appreciate Eyal’s movement language. The combination of articulation, isolation, low, constant energy and peaks of extreme form rock my boat. However, in R.O.S.E, I don’t feel the language went anywhere new or exploratory.

The experimentation is with the space, rather than what’s being done in it per se. And this is absolutely fine, enjoyed by the majority of patrons, I’m sure. But for hardcore dance fans, the gimmick outshone the material, and this is a shame, especially when considering the calibre of the dancers and Eyal’s idiosyncratic creativity. One could equate the experience to the true concept of luxury goods. The masses consume to find identity via a brand, whereas others purchase solely based on the quality of the craftsmanship. Which tribe are you?

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.