I understand now why it is untitled. How can you put a title on a work that’s very purpose strives to undo the titles and labels we assign to each other? And perhaps even question those we give ourselves. At the end of the performance Friday my lips were incapable of placing only a few words, to what I had just experienced. There was no title to be given.
I laughed, cried, felt overwhelming anger, yearning, hurt, and freedom, along with a strange combination of both happy and sad. This performance captured emotions as only movement and music can, and took the audience along for the ride. So much so that when one of the performers was acting angry and frustrated and then ran into the audience flinging programs, getting in people’s faces, flinging more programs and people’s jackets along with it, I too understood the urge.
As people filed in, instead of pre-show music, there was the soundtrack of breathing in the background. It was kind of hypnotizing. To start the show the performers walked down the aisle, breathing deeply.
The interesting thing is that after the first number, I didn’t really even notice that they were completely nude. I mean, yes I noticed, but I got over the concept quicker than I expected. The choreography eased my transition, as well.The show acknowledged that nudity makes some theatergoers uneasy while at the same time disregarding such feelings. In the first piece, the movements weren’t as… nonchalant about what or how they showed anything. It might still have made you uncomfortable but it was intentional. By the end of the show, the movement was the movement and if an audience member was not comfortable seeing everything happening on stage at that point, the production no longer cared.
The only other times we ever remembered to feel self-conscious of their nudity was when the lights would make a sudden shift to stark white nothingness, giving the performers not even shadows or tinted lights to hide behind. Or when the house lights came up occasionally to make the setting more intimate and suddenly remind us that we were watching 6 naked women and that now, everyone could see us too.
In addition to the group pieces, each performer got a segment in which they were featured individually or with a partner. These contained a nice mixture of humor and pain. And they weren’t always dance or movement based either. Some were pantomimed or used sounds because the production was not completely wordless, like I had thought going in. Occasionally vocals, like “la la” and laughter, were incorporated. Their rareness made them all the more powerful.
“Untitled Feminist Show” is one that I believe is a unique experience for everyone. And contrary to the misconception some hold, this is not just about exploring the spectrum of female identities; it is about the spectrum of all identities. What I mean is that, yes it focuses on women’s experiences (only women are in the show) but, as is often misunderstood with the term feminist itself, it’s not just a show for women to see. Feminism promotes freedom of expression; it promotes the idea that anyone should be who they are and want to be. So, yes, the spotlight in this show is thrown on women (literally and figuratively) but that that doesn’t mean there isn’t something for everyone to gain.
I saw a portion of myself in each of those women on that stage tonight. I experienced one of those rare phenomenons: I can not begin to paint for you a suitable picture of all the scenes or even most of the movement in “Untitled Feminist Show”. There would be no satisfaction in that for either me or you. Even what I have described gives you a poor idea of the individualized potential meaning it has. This is not a show to be described, this is a show to be experienced.
