by Leigh Witchel
An eternal question: How do we respect the past while bringing it to the present? “One Dance,” presented as part of Lincoln Center’s Korean Arts Week, had some deft strategies.
The show, performed by the Seoul Metropolitan Dance Theatre, was originally created in Seoul last year and titled “Ilmu.” It’s a study of traditional dance and music in four parts. The first two sections were each further divided: a more traditional exposition of a ceremonial dance followed by a contemporary variation.
The mise-en-scène was by Kuho Jung, who was credited with everything about the concept and design except the steps and the music. Hyejin Jeong (the director of SMDT), and Sung Hoon Kim created the choreography, as well as Jaeduk Kim, who also composed the recorded score.
“One Dance” fed on the power of a group. Most movement was unison, at the beginning separated by sex, gradually mixing. The lighting was dramatic but simple, augmented by thin fluorescent tubing that – like the dancers – reconfigured slowly.
The performance began with a moan, the tapping of a drum and 18 women in ceremonial white robes and towering black hats, arrayed in two long lines stretching from the front to the back of the stage. Each woman carried a baton and a wand with a dangling tail. They drifted from two lines into four uneven ones, still posing as the percussion hammered.
The group continued to shift, from four lines to three or to two tight groups, in a way that that you might not have noticed until it had already happened. The women walked off and 14 men entered, clad in orange robes and broad black hats with two tall feathers sticking straight up like antennae. The men carried swords. The score echoed with bells and chanting.
“One Dance” was very deliberate and willing to take its time. There was no attempt to grab you in the pacing, and yet it didn’t lose you. If the slow communal unison dance might remind us of anything as New York dancegoers, it was “Union Jack.”
The music changed to a more modern sound, of grinding strings. The pace of the group changing and reforming sped up; unison was swapped for dancers moving one at a time, like a Busby Berkeley chorus line. After a scene change, a bell tolled and the women reclaimed the stage, wearing green robes with sail-like white sleeves that slowly folded and unfolded like semaphore flags. Eighteen places were marked with floral red panels that gradually were occupied in a random pattern.
After a while, the mats were lifted to the heavens by thin threads that seemed to appear from nowhere. The technology in “One Dance” was a mix of discretion and flamboyance. Like the show’s pacing, it was a deft balancing act. This could have been boring, or empty sensationalism. It was neither.
The score steadily ticked as the women continued to pose from spot to spot. The slowly changing formations stuck with you, but like other performances in this deliberate clock time, there was space for you to zone out and then return. And things did not just repeat; there was a slowly developing arc.
After, the men assembled in lines while the static in the music grew slowly louder, then dropped out. A pose, and the scene ended. A low rumbling opened an interlude for three men in white sleeveless robes and tall black hats. Their movements were more martial, like tai chi, graceful and coordinated. Like the rest of “One Dance,” the segment moved on its own time, and ended on its own time.
The stage grew again. Twenty four women with interlaced arms, their massive white sleeves looking like a curtain, moved slowly and inexorably forward. The music had become more electronic, a modern take on traditional sounds. The women moved their arms, leading with cocked elbows.
The pace was picking up, as was the volume of music and movement. The soundtrack shifted to almost industrial rock. Above the dancers a projection created a moiré sawtooth effect. Eighteen dancers rotated, then rushed off. Ten women took their place, then a duo, and another duo, all coming out, bowing, racing off.
The projection above the action changed to a blended effect of red, white and blue. It resembled Indonesian Ikat weaving, and also echoed the costumes. The outfits were now unisex as the stage swelled with dancers.
Somehow, “One Dance” went from a pageant to a dance. Twenty four women were now springing and jumping, and floor work was mixed in. The unison movement still retained the ceremony of pageantry.
Thirty five dancers were onstage, in five lines of seven. The motion increased in volume, the dancers’ arms slashed and retracted with massive force that was finally, unapologetically sensational. They turned away from us, and the score moved to nothing more than an echoing resonance as the cast stopped in a pose.
“One Dance” succeeded because of how well-paced and structured it was, taking its time to explore its ideas, but steadily increasing in energy over 70 minutes to a larger and larger juggernaut without ever getting lost in the weeds. The man behind the idea, Jung, is a polymath. He started his career as a chef and he’s directed Seoul Fashion Week. Evidently, he’s got the goods. His work was clean, intelligent and well-structured. I’d be willing to try anything he cooked.
copyright © 2023 by Leigh Witchel
“One Dance” – Seoul Metropolitan Dance Theatre
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
July 20, 2023
Cover: Seoul Metropolitan Dance Theatre in “One Dance.” Photo © Hwang Piljoo.
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“One Dance” was presented in tandem with a visual arts exhibition, “Discovery: 12 Contemporary Artists From Korea” on view through August 27 at Rockefeller Center.
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