The Silences between Satie’s Notes: A Review of José Navas’s S

It’s with the drama of the stage performance that S begins. The lights come on for the entrance of French pianist Claire Chevallier as she walks over to the piano dead centre at the back of the stage and sits down. And the lights are turned off, as if only to let us know that this was a moment that needed – in the most literal sense – to be highlighted. And when the lights come back on again, the eight dancers of S are standing in a single file, imposing in their stillness.

With his latest group work, José Navas takes one more step in the direction of pure movement. If possible, there is even less theatricality in S than in his previous ensemble piece, Anatomies, and the movement is that much cleaner. So it may not come as a surprise that Navas has picked music by that master of purity, Erik Satie. Even the costumes work in that direction, the dancers first appearing in white see-through clothing.

The dancers do break away from their file as they spread across the stage, each autonomously exploring their own space. As such, Navas is able to make great use of the large stage of the Salle Pierre-Mercure. The movement starts off slow, but then becomes swift before the dancers stop dead in their tracks and remain static; breathing tableaux. These rhythmic changes ensure that the qualities of each section are enhanced through contrast.

Despite the apparent simplicity of the choreography, Navas explores such contrasts on so many different levels that he creates a dynamic and complex work of art. The effect of synchronization is that much more breathtaking when it suddenly emerges out of nowhere, after the performers have been dancing independently for some time.

Navas also makes great use of his eight dancers, the biggest cast he’s ever had the chance to have at his disposal. The eight performers break down in two groups of four dancing in a round before dwindling down to four, to one, before swelling up again with two simultaneous duos… This constant variation in numbers gives S a more fluid and complex structure than was found in Anatomies, the sections being more smoothly interlaced and brief.

One also admires Navas for the way he treats male and female performers evenly. To him, a shirtless woman is no more naked than a shirtless man. He explores every possible pairing, never bound by heterosexist ideas. When the dancers trade in their costume for white briefs so sheer as to be almost invisible, they end up looking less like human beings than like Ken and Barbie dolls: hairless, genital-less, asexual. Probably all the better to feed the spiritual aura of the work.

Overwhelmingly, S is a work that values its dancers. Navas is not afraid to give each of them the stage individually. In fact, during rehearsals, the choreographer would often tell them to dance as if they were performing a solo even during group sections, but to of course keep an eye out for their comrades. Rare these days is formal dance in Montreal, and Navas’s S is a decidedly welcomed, not to mention sublime, experience.

S is presented at Centre Pierre-Péladeau every night at 8pm until Saturday, November 28. Tickets begin at 25$. For more information on this and upcoming Danse Danse shows, visit dansedanse.net or call 514.987.6919.