Ten/With Raised Arms
Firkin Crane, Cork
****
There has been debate recently about the placement of the word "homophobe" on the spectrum of hate. In With Raised Arms, choreographer Liv O'Donoghue poses a similar question about misogyny. As she dances alone following the instructions from a male theatre technician, her slowly exhausting body makes the audience consider the proceedings on a scale between just a bit of fun and downright abusive. The choreographer also poses questions of self-determination and audience expectations.
Historically, dance can be accused of breeding misogyny. Modern-day preoccupations about the dancer’s body image can be traced back to the pre-Photoshop 19th-century paintings of Marie Taglioni, with her impossibly small feet and thin waist. The female body was not only controlled metaphorically by patriarchy, but often literally, such as the doll Coppélia who was physically manipulated by Dr Coppelius.
While abusive depictions of men manipulating women, like those in With Raised Arms, are no longer shocking, they are unsettling. More so, because the choreographer also implicates the audience as co-conspirators, as the technician (Bryan O'Connell) asks for suggestions as to how O'Donoghue should move. Furthermore, in the beginning he says, "You know more about this than me", subtly empowering the audience and passing responsibility to them.
With Raised Arms doesn't just play the blame game. It also questions choice and responsibility. At one point O'Donoghue and O'Connell walk backwards away from each other towards the edge of the stage. They pause, and then O'Donoghue begins walking back towards O'Connell – a small moment that depicts the dancer's Stockholm Syndrome-like dependency.
There's a warmer glow to Ten, as O'Donoghue is joined by Maria Nilsson Waller in a beguiling duet full of flowing sequences and stillness. Tom Lane's sound score is an apposite partner, providing gentle shading and texture to the dancing. Occasionally, whispered instructions emerge from the prevailing birdsong and sounds of swishing movement, telling the dancers to pause and resume action.
Both works show O'Donoghue confident in her creativity, whether the full-on theatricality of With Raised Arms or the subtle abstractions of Ten.
