Nocturne
Therese Gahl and Elizabeth Gahl
Le Notre
Atlas INTERSECTIONS Festival
Washington, D.C.
February 27, 2020
Therese and Elizabeth Gahl brought innovation, mastery, and whole-heartedness to contemporary ballet with their three literary-inspired premieres Thursday night at the Atlas INTERSECTIONS Festival. Their first-ever collaboration, Nocturne, focused on the importance of family.
The curtains parted to reveal two barefoot women in burgundy leotards and gauzy wrap skirts, arms draped casually over their heads. This heartwarming piece began with a reading from Jandy Nelson’s book The Sky Is Everywhere discussing the strong and loving bond between two sisters, before transitioning to a lilting Yann Tierson song from the Amelie soundtrack. Appropriately named “Two Sisters,” sisters Therese and Liz Gahl melted into deep plies, rested their heads on each others’ shoulders, and playfully pranced around the stage.
“Cinderella” featured classical ballerina Eleonore Dugue, hip-hop b-boy Karim “Pepito” Ahansal, and flamenco bailaora Rosa Herrador Sousa. Their three distinct styles allowed for creative partnering work, Dugue holding classic poses like an arcing fish dive while Ahansal clutched her around the middle in a more utilitarian, less balletic way. The combination gave the pose a feeling of intimacy and urgency.
Sousa, dressed in yellow pants, a white men’s shirt, and dark red lipstick, began with a slow deliberate walk to center stage. She sensuously slid to the floor, bowing low to hit the ground with a yellow fan before flicking it open. Ahansal pop-and-locked a pantomime tightening of his tie and smoothed out his blue button-down, left open over a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Dugue, in a white slip and pointe shoes, looked like Bambi trying to stand for the first time, her legs wobbling as she attempted to rise after tripping into the spotlight.
Dugue and Ahansal, dancing the parts of Cinderella and the Prince, emitted innocent joy and playfulness as they chased each other in circles, balanced on an imaginary tightrope, and rolled across the stage like children barrelling down a grassy hill. Reminded of the time, Dugue dashed off. Ahansal desperately clutched at her foot, then air.
As he searched for his lost love, Ahansal’s hand seemed to operate on its own. It dodged through trees and careened down rivers, pulling his body along after it. His waving arms comically transferred to his arching eyebrows. His knees knocked inward as he sunk to the floor, then he kicked his legs out like a Russian Trepak dancer before spinning atop his head, legs akimbo.
Sousa reappeared in a huge hoop skirt with over two dozen pointe shoes tied to the frame. She moved with such deliberateness that we were spellbound as she took a slow ten seconds to raise her arms.
Predictably, Cinderella and the Prince were happily reunited. After using the pointe shoes to make various patterns on the stage, Dugue lovingly picked them up. She stared at each one reverently, then tucked it into her arm until she was cradling a bouquet of two dozen shoes. Miraculously she danced without dropping them, extending her leg up overhead as her torso dipped low. As she slowly walked backward, she let one escape. A spotlight shown on the lone pink satin shoe as the curtains slowly closed.
Dylan Thomas’ words, “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” echoed over the sound system as soloist Therese Gahl stood amongst seven black stools of varying height. Projected against the backdrop, ink splats slowly unfurled in water. The heaviest piece of the three, “Do Not Go Gentle,” detailed how the loss of a loved one forces you to confront your own mortality.
Gahl draped herself over the first stool, gently traced its contours with lingering fingers, and flipped it on its side to precariously balance along the edges of its legs. Another dancer approached and pried the stool away, carrying it to the back of the stage. Gahl danced around, over, and on top of the stools, fruitlessly trying to protect them as one-by -one they were carried off. When all the stools had been removed, male soloist Peter Green picked the grief-stricken Gahl up off the floor. When she collapsed again, he held onto her foot as she effortlessly swung around him like an ice skater.
As the poem ended, the music changed to haunting instrumentals. A tight group of eight dancers exploded into a large X facing every which way, each contracting into a hunchbacked gut-punch. With linked arms, the dancers spun so fast one was suspended by momentum, her back arched, feet reaching toward her head.
Gahl’s creative choreography incorporated many pleasing elements of surprise: the lines of one dancer’s extended arms beautifully parallel to her partner’s extended legs; another dancer caught midair in a stag leap. Gahl adeptly tailored movement to each dancer’s strengths.
“Do Not Go Gentle” was filled with memorable images, including the final tableau: Green held Gahl high in the air as she desperately reached for the departing dancers, pain evident on her face, she extended an arm out in longing.
Therese and Liz Gahl’s passion and mastery of ballet technique brought familiar stories to life, showcasing a well-honed cast of international dancers and familiar D.C. area faces from companies like Motion X DC, Gin Dance Company, and Bowen McCauley Dance Company. The sisters’ complementary choreographic styles knit seamlessly together, celebrating family and connection.
Photos: top, Therese Gahl, Glenn Cook Photography
middle, Courtney Papenta and Elizabeth Watson, photo by Ruth Judson
bottom, Patrick Green and Therese Gahl, photo by Ruth Judson