Yearender by Joelle Jacinto
The week between Christmas and New Year is the best time to write a Top 10 Yearender list because everyone’s on holiday mode and there must be something else to do besides eating and watching kdramas on your iPad. When I was still a full-fledged highly productive dance critic, I was fond of making these yearender essays; they appear in the June 2010 print edition of Runthru, and I also made one for Kuala Lumpur in 2015 for Critics Republic. But I saw everything when I lived in KL, I mean, I went to all the dance shows. This year, though back in the Philippines, because of logistic challenges, I am unable to say the same, and so I emphasize that the title of this list is Joelle’s Top 10, because they’re not the best of the year in the Philippines, only the best of which I had seen.
I said in a recent Instagram post about yearend lists that these Top 10 Best of the Year things are usually dependent on the taste of whoever is in power/assigned to write them. I feel the same way about evaluating dance, and about reviews in general. I mean, look at me, I’m (semi) known as a dance critic, but only because I was writing when not many people were writing, and I always say that whatever I write is based on my own tastes and biases. The most objective thing I do is not write about something when I hate it. I believe that this is partly why I stopped writing reviews (and partly because I got so burnt out with the CCP Encyclopedia of Philippine Art, but yay it’s finally launched and the Dance volume is twice as thick as it used to be and, shameless plug, go look it up in the library nearest you when you have time!), whether I hate something or actually like it, who cares about my opinion anyway?
But I started to think it’s a disservice to the works that I do like, that they’re not being written about when there should be more people who should be liking them too. I was feeling this at the UP Dance Company anniversary show last year (see previous review), and while at the Last Quarter Intensives, a very impressively organized dance festival in General Santos. I found myself wanting to write about these dances, which I haven’t felt like doing in a while. I guess it’s time. So, I also write this essay with the resolve that I will write more in 2019. This yearender list is practice.
My Top 10 (emphasis again on my), in chronological order:
Maybe, Not Yet
Choreographed and performed by Sarah Maria Samaniego and Fauzi Amirudin
Dancing in Place Rimbun Dahan 2018
Main House, Rimbun Dahan, Selangor, Malaysia
January 13-14, 2018
Photo by Nazir Azhari
Dancing in Place is Bilqis Hijjas’ annual site specific dance festival, originally at artists residency center, Rimbun Dahan, and expanding to Dancing in Place City Site at Damansara Performing Arts Center in Petaling Jaya, and Dancing in Place Urbanscapes in Chinatown, Kuala Lumpur. At Rimbun Dahan at the beginning of the year, thirteen choreographers from all over Southeast Asia collaborate in groups of five to create new work on the site, joined by six other pieces from mostly Malaysian artists (mostly, because my sister and I also performed for that festival, our father Eli Jacinto’s Undertow, in the pond. It was slimy). Filipina Sarah Maria Samaniego collaborated with Malaysian Fauzi Amirudin; they were batchmates at the 2014 Southeast Asian Choreolab at Rimbun Dahan, and always displayed a chemistry when forced to work together. Although their rehearsals seemed like they were just goofing around most of the time, their resulting work, Maybe, Not Yet was a very poignant, somber piece seemingly about irreconcilable differences, but more about being blind to glaring similarities. They danced behind the window of the main house that overlooks the pond, while the audience sat outside the house, on the steps by the pond. They seemingly attempted to match their movements to each other, both unhappy with the outcomes, struggling with each other’s presence in the space without realising how perfectly compatible they actually are. Towards the end of the work, Fauzi goes downstairs to the foyer as Sarah closes the glass window. They look out into the distance, seemingly the same distance, their faces slowly moving from right to left and back again to scan the horizon, seemingly the same horizon. They do this final movement together, even if they’re in different spaces, and you’re convinced that they have to drop this pretense and get back together already. I saw every rehearsal and performance of this work, and would fly back to KL (with Sarah) to see it again. Since I wasn’t writing reviews at this time, this is what I wrote about the work in my Instagram:
Sarah Maria Samaniego and Fauzi Amirudin’s Maybe, Not Yet is a lovely anti-duet, where they do the same movements and breathe the same breath, even when they want to contradict each other, even when they think they are at odds, even when they feel like a future together is not possible, even when they feel like being in the same room together is not possible, even when they’ve physically detached themselves from one another, even when they cannot see what the other is doing, they do the same movements and breathe the same breath. As if they were meant to be.
Sonoko Prow in the pool for Bloom.
Photo by Nazir Azhari.
Bloom
Choreographed and performed by Sonoko Prow, Citra Pratiwi and Fadilla Oziana
Dancing in Place Rimbun Dahan 2018
Swimming Pool area and adjoining pond, Rimbun Dahan, Selangor, Malaysia
January 13-14, 2018
There were many memorable works at Dancing in Place that year, and in most years of Dancing in Place, but perhaps none as memorable and engaging as Bloom by Indonesians Citra Pratiwi and Fadilla Oziana and Thai Sonoko Prow. These dancers each came from different movement styles, yet didn’t attempt to fuse them together: Citra performed her contemporized traditional movements in the garden, Dilla perched on the ledge above the pool doing silat, and Sonoko was submerged to her neck in the pool scaring children with two Butoh faces, each performance as compelling as the others for different reasons, and it didn’t feel like one work, but three separate things randomly happening one after the other. And then Citra invites us to follow her to the lounge beside the swimming pool, while saying “I’m sorry, I love you, thank you...” over and over, until she is at the edge, where it drops into the larger natural pond. Dilla and Sonoko paddle up towards us in a small rowboat, and Citra climbs down a ladder to get into the boat, smiling and waving at the audience as they paddle away, saying “I’m sorry, I love you, thank you...” Completely charmed, we couldn’t help but wave back.
Photo by Joelle Jacinto
Etudes
Choreographed by Herbert Alvarez
Performed by Alexa Torte, Jam Chavez, Mark Robles and Marveen Ely Lozano
Sessions with the UP Dance Company
Abelardo Hall Auditorium, University of the Philippines, Diliman
March 23-24, 2018
Photo by Erica Jacinto
Contemporary ballet had come late to the party as contemporary dance became the world’s dominant dance style du jour, and ballet companies wanted in, and producing choreographers like Justin Peck, Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, Alexei Ratmansky, et al. In my humble opinion, Herbert Alvarez can easily join their ranks, gifted with the fluid manipulation of classical movement and having dancers such as Torte, Chavez, Robles and Lozano. Etudes is an exhilarating quartet that doesn’t attempt to be cutting edge, only to be beautiful. It is actually deceptively complex and succeeds because you do not see the level of difficulty, only that it is a breath of fresh air.
Duwa
Choreographed by Elena Laniog Alvarez
Performed by Mark Robles and AL Abraham
Sessions with the UP Dance Company
Abelardo Hall Auditorium, University of the Philippines, Diliman
March 23-24, 2018
Photo by Erica Jacinto.
Greatly contrasting to Etudes, Duwa is also a display of the talented dancers of UP Dance Company in a totally different style from Alvarez’s, that of Elena Laniog’s quirky body convulsions that are seen in most of her work, and in the work of most of her dancers who had become choreographers, but this time, it is hyped up, as if injected with steroids and taken to another level. I find this contrast of styles between husband and wife highly amusing, and is perhaps why UPDC dancers are so diversely capable, able to completely switch from one to another in a snap. That the piece was created last minute is testament to Laniog’s talent, but also to how much Robles and Abraham have embodied her style, looking even more whole and actualized than some of the other works in the program. It is somewhat sad that Robles and Abraham have spread their wings to dance in other dance companies - Mcoy in Singapore with Frontier Dance Company, and AL with Ballet Philippines - but also exciting for them and for new audiences who will discover them anew.
Te Deum
Choreographed by Denisa Reyes
Performed by Ballet Philippines
The Innovators: Carmen and Other Ballets
Cultural Center of the Philippines Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino
October 5-7, 2018
Photo by Erica Jacinto.
I had first seen Te Deum as an impressionable scholar with Ballet Philippines; at the time, Denisa was the artistic director and I was scared of her, but also very awed by her presence. To me, she was a choreographic genius, perhaps the first time I felt this way about someone who was not my father. I would watch the BP company members do For the Gods and Muybridge/Frames in rehearsal, and I wanted so desperately to be able to dance those someday (yes, I know that Muybridge is only all boys). The first time I saw Te Deum, I was so stunned, probably had my mouth open the entire time, and I remember standing up to clap furiously, along with the row of scholars beside me. When the scholar beside me said to me, “Wow, that was amazing!” I remember shrugging and saying, “Well, of course.” Fast forward 20 years, in a show celebrating BP’s innovators, and I’m thinking how naming your show that is like tempting failure, because even if the works were innovative during the time they premiered, how can you explain why that was to a whole new audience with new aesthetics? And then Te Deum comes on, with its straight lines and severe angles, its mechanical canons, its unflinching unisons, but also with its grandness, its majesty, its voluptuous earthiness, and the work is still relevant, still innovative today. At the final moment, rows and rows of people stood up to clap furiously. And all I could think of was, “Well, of course.”
Singap
Choreographed by Mia Cabalfin
Performed by Julie Alagde Carretas and Rhosam Prudenciado Jr, Marielle Baylocon, Ian Nick Tiba, Christopher Chan, and Jenica Tavarez of Airdance
Neo-Filipino 2018
Cultural Center of the Philippines Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino
October 6-7, 2018
What I really liked about Mia Cabalfin’s Singap (tr. Gasp) is that it was so well-composed, that Mia had apparently really put a lot of thought and effort into crafting this work. I don’t know if it’s something other people see also, or if it’s just me, so used to evaluating works-in-progress in a university setting and prepared to pick it apart to figure out how to improve on it, but either way, this version (I heard there were already several versions) successfully drew out such gorgeous movements from not being able to breathe, that it didn’t need to mean anything. And yet there was meaning, and possibilities for meaning. Definitely, the audience could feel this struggle of gasping for air, all manifestations of it, especially at the end, when her co-dancers attempted to silence Alagde Carretas’ “cry for help.” It was an arresting moment, given the sinister mob and how Alagde Carretas’ consistently strong, remarkable presence is eventually subdued, crumpling into the mob against her will, with fuller effect due to the video projections of collaborator Annie Pacaña. By the end of the work, from the audience, I found myself breathing really hard.
Photo by Erica Jacinto.
Photo of Jovie Ann Domingo and Shiela Mae Mantilla in Jodel Cimagala's My Gummy Bears
at the Wifi Body Competition by Erica Jacinto.
My Gummy Bears
Choreographed by Jodel Cimagala
Performed by Teatro Ambahanon
Liki 3.5 and The Best of Teatro Ambahanon, The Last Quarter Intensives
SM Trade Hall, General Santos City
November 8-9, 2018
Photo of My Gummy Bears full cast at the Last Quarter Intensives by Jhon Mark Rabago.
My Gummy Bears entered the Wifi Body Competition* as a duet, but was originally for six girls, all bitching about how difficult their life is and then breaking down completely. I’m usually wary of feminist work, especially when choreographed by a man, but I found myself really relating to these women and their issues, never mind if I don’t understand what they’re saying because it’s in Cebuano; really relating to how they grabbed their hair and pulled it away from their skulls in frustration, to how they violently threw their high heeled shoes to the floor and started running around the room, to how they started laughing hysterically in the middle of the suspense, which is actually quite scary, both to see and to realise that you are relating to it. It’s not just, oh we’re women and we’re crazy, there appears to be several layers to the cray, like, oh wait, we’re not supposed to admit to this mental instability, and then becoming more unstable as a result. It is so witty, too, and shows how intelligent and sensitive Jodel is as a choreographer. I was able to see his other works during the Last Quarter Intensives (non)festival, and I’m assured that My Gummy Bears is not a one-off, his Comfortably Numb and G Spot are both very witty and creative, though not quite as bold and vivid as My Gummy Bears. G Spot also challenges gender issues and I’m looking forward to seeing this work evolve as well.
*I missed the Wifi Body Competition because I teach all day on Saturdays and would have missed half of the gala if I still went to the CCP after my classes. I do regret missing it, and feel grateful for the opportunity of seeing My Gummy Bears, Harry Monteagudo’s Solitaryo, JMac Acol’s Muffled Headline, and 3rd and 2nd runners up, Sasa Cabalquinto’s Namoka and Jovie Ann Domingo’s Walk Without Pain (review below) at the Last Quarter Intensives in General Santos.
Compose + Disposed Mine Craft
Choreographed by John Michael Acol
Performed by Teatro Ambahanon
Director’s Prize Competition, The Last Quarter Intensives
SM Trade Hall, General Santos City
November 9, 2018
Peejay de Guzman won this year’s Director’s Prize because of his clever use of the cellphone flashlight to illuminate his piece, but my vote actually went to JMac Acol’s piece that unapologetically used the newspaper dance party game as a jump-off point for composition. I felt that it was more actualized as a choreographic work, more complete, and overall very satisfying. This year’s Director’s Prize seemed to have a theme as each work had a lead character dealing with the voices in their head (actually the theme was to have 4 or more dancers in your piece, and while it could be about insanity, it wasn’t imposed exactly how the insanity was portrayed. So it was mainly coincidental that everyone’s work was similar in this way, and perhaps subliminally influenced because many of the participating choreographers were also dancing for the works of the other choreographers). JMac’s lead crazy person was impeccably portrayed by Boom Dave John Panes, who considered the “voices” in his head as an annoyance, switching seamlessly from sane to disturbed and through many levels in between. Boom is also a good mover, his whole body displaying the frustration of dealing with his insanity. The “voices” are good movers, as well, it seems JMac knows how to pick his dancers, though they are also adept at keeping straight faces when they are doing the most ridiculous tricks to vex Boom, and when getting into their newspaper dance pyramid formations. This is actually my favourite part of the work - after getting over JMac’s audacity to actually complete the newspaper dance game until the tiniest paper fold, I had to admire how he crafted the ingenious formations and the smooth transitions in between, and how it wasn’t newspaper dance anymore, it was art.
If JMac has to learn anything from losing this year, I hope it’s how to lose gracefully, but not to change anything in Compose + Disposed Mine Craft, which should remain unapologetically as is, from start to finish. Well, except maybe the title. I hope he finds a better title before Teatro Ambahanon restages this work again. Which I think is soon because, seriously, more people should see it, and those who have seen it will most likely want to see it again.
Photo of Beauty Balaga in Jovie Ann Domingo's Here Comes the Bride by Jhon Mark Rabago.
Here Comes the Bride and Walk Without Pain
Choreographed by Jovie Ann Domingo
Performed by Teatro Ambahanon
Liki 3.5 and The Best of Teatro Ambahanon, The Last Quarter Intensives
SM Trade Hall, General Santos City
November 8-9, 2018
Photo of Beauty Balaga and Ralph Malaque at the Wifi Body Competition by Erica Jacinto.
I saw Here Comes the Bride before Walk Without Pain, which won 2nd place at the Wifi Body Festival New Choreographers Competition this year, and realized when I saw the other piece that it actually was a prequel, but if people were going to see both works, the sequence should be Walk Without Pain before Here Comes the Bride. Because it was only after seeing Walk Without Pain, and realizing what happens to Beauty Balaga’s bride character before she marries Ralph Malaque’s groom character, that I realize how sinister Here Comes The Bride really is, how deep and profound and not at all just about a bride giddy about her upcoming big day. Without the context of Walk Without Pain, Here Comes the Bride was simply this cute work where Beauty is drying her hair and getting ready to get married, while four brides seemingly painfully dance around her, like bad omens, or meddling titas. There’s even a repeated moment where they stop in a crouching position, turn to look at Beauty and, while bouncing, vindictively judge her. It actually looks hilarious when they repeat it the third time and Beauty is still drying her hair. But when you see Walk Without Pain, oh wow, it’s actually not that funny. Or maybe the sequence I saw it was the correct sequence, because right now, I'm freaking out while remembering the works to write about them.
I was thinking also that when you watch these two related works, perhaps they shouldn’t be seen one after another, and started thinking, I should discuss a full-length work that Jovie could work on someday...
Bulaklak
Choreographed by Eli Jacinto
Performed by Nina Sayoc of TEAM Dance Studio
Rehearsal photo by Joelle Jacinto
This work hasn’t premiered yet, but I saw it so much in 2018 as the choreographer (my father) worked on it, and even learned it myself to dance in the future (eventually in the future), and I’m quite enamoured with it that I’m putting it in my list of Best That I Saw. One of the things I really admire about my father’s skill for choreography is his use of music and, as all his dancers know, performing his work is only possible if you understand his musical phrasing - one of his former dancers is known to have said, “I’m starting to hear what Teacher Eli hears...” meaning she’s about to get the dancing right. Set to Raul Sunico’s piano rendition of Dahil Sa Isang Bulaklak (Because of One Flower), where every note has a corresponding movement, he has made it both about a flower coming to life, blooming in full color, then inevitably dying, and about a confident woman, proud to be her own person. Or, at least, that’s what I understood from watching/participating in rehearsals all this time. Generally, he says “It’s about a strong woman,” and scolds when the interpretation becomes flirtatious, I suppose because women are stronger than that, which I appreciate. When he coaches Nina, he sometimes refers to her movements as “the flower” as in “the flower chasing the bees away,” or “dew falling on the petals...” which may sound simplistic, but the movement of the petal that is reacting to these delicate drops of water is actually a complex convulsion from hip to shoulder to arm, initiating a series of steps that has her whirling in a frenzy and stopping abruptly, swaying slightly, as if the breeze had caught up. I also include this in my list because I would like to celebrate the process of the work, and how there is something new that is always discovered at every rehearsal.
As a dancer and choreographer, I wish that those of you who also dance or choreograph will have those moments in the studio this incoming year, and I hope that every rehearsal is always a new adventure. As a writer, I hope you were able to appreciate this list of dance I put together, that you may agree with my choices, wish to see those you missed, recommend your own list of favourite dances of the year, and bug me to see shows together in 2019. Game.
Banner: Rhosam Prudenciado Jr. in Mia Cabalfin's Singap, photo by Erica Jacinto
Cover on Home page: Jodel Cimagala's My Gummy Bears, photo by Jhon Mark Rabago
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