<BR><small>Déjà Donné in 'Aria Spinta'</small><P>Here are the calendar details from the <A HREF="http://www.danceumbrella.co.uk/menu.htm" TARGET=_blank><B>Dance Umbrella website</B></A>. Click on the coloured dates for programme information and on the venue name for theatre details.<P>This sounds like great fun, which can be a rare commodity in contemporary dance.<BR>

WHO: DEJA DONNE<BR>WHEN: FRI 9 - SAT 10<BR>WHERE: THE PLACE ROBIN HOWARD DANCE THEATRE<BR>TICKETS: 020 7381 0031<P><B>FLORY & SANDRONI: NO LIMITS</B><P>Aria Spinta is an approximately 70-minute romp by the young, Europe-based company Deja Donne. Created in 1999 by artistic directors Lenka Flory and Simone Sandroni (both former dancers of Belgian choreographer Wim Vandekeybus), the show is a post-modern kinetic screwball comedy. Surrender to its inviting energy and you could end up having a whale of a time.<P>Flory and Sandroni are partners, and parents, offstage. She is from Prague, and doesn't dance any more. He is Italian, and still does. Both are in their mid-thirties. They founded Deja Donne in 1997. "Usually I stay more inside and make the movement," Sandroni describes their creative process. "It's very round. I break the circles, or give a phrase and cut it somewhere and then find a way to re-connect it." Flory's role is to watch, checking the quality of movement and editing and shaping the material as a whole.<P>Aria Spinta - roughly translated from the Italian as 'pushed air' - consciously ropes in and tries to harness one of the bigges theatrical metaphors. The space jointly occupied by cast and audience generates parallels with that messy, unpredictable and absurd performance known as daily living.<P>The venue becomes an arena of contingencies and exigencies into which the cast is thrown like gladiators fighting for their performing lives. It's play-acting, of course, but with a fairly simple, two-fold purpose: to amuse and somehow touch us. "Our philosophy is to not exclude the audience from the performance," Flory says. "They don't have to be involved physically, but emotionally for sure."<P>"You can't explain for audiences how they are going to see something," Simone expands on her thoughts. "But we want them to feel something, not just sit in their seats and judge if we are good or bad. We want them to be judging their own feelings. For some the show is very sad, for others very charming. Someone who saw it told me, We started to laugh because we wanted to cry."<P>Sandroni is one of five in a multi-national cast. "We are characters whose job it is to dance," he explains. "You're not attracted by what we dance, but by us." The almost manic pleasure some performers take in being the centre of attention is one of the issues the show alights upon.The flip side is the requirement of pleasing an audience even when you don't feel like it; even when it makes a performer, as happens here, visibly uncomfortable. "If you give pleasure without having it yourself," he says, "it becomes prostitution in a bad way" But is performance still a form of prostitution even when it's mutually satisfying? The question is rhetotical. Onstage, Sandroni is the one most interested in ensuring that theatrical proprieties remain unviolated. Yet there he is, soliciting contributions from the audience like church offerings or hawking a tray of company t-shirts and soft drinks.<P>The bigger picture in Aria Spinta is the old adage that, no matter what happens, the show must go on. Deja Donne takes such fortitude to frequently farcical, even slapstick extremes. From the start the performance functions in an increasingly madcap state of choreographus interruptus, as cast members claim to have forgotten some of their steps or accuse one another of changing the order of taped music. The edge of comic exasperation in their arguements is a cue to the audience to engage with the show free of anxiety. Humbled, harassed, embarrassed or energised, the five players are skillful sillies desperate to please and then, as the theatre starts to fall down around their ears, just desperate. Frequently driven by crazy klezmer-type instrumentals, the show becomes both a send-up of theatrical temperament and a celebration of resilience.<P>"In the last part of the show," Sandroni says, "it's like we don't have limits, or we're always trying to cross the ones we have." He, Flory, and the dancers pepper their manic cartoon of breakdown and surprise with plenty of fast, fresh motion. The moves are loose, lush and laced with quirky rather than harmful aggression. The dancers sometimes talk to themselves as they breathlessly jerk and flow. The orchestrated chaos from which they spring leaves you wanting more of them, in a good sense, and more of dance.<P>Flory says that, for her, Aria Spinta was "motivated by living and performing in the eastern part of Europe. By days and months of work without any result, any movement forward. Once achieved, results can break down or get lost any second. Yet an incredible energy and will can make something grow." Fair Copy, the new Deja Donne production due to premiere this autumn, will be about frustrated idealism. "Nine persons will use the stage to try and get their ideals through," Flory reveals. "Not successfully each time. We would like to use the comparsions of those two extremes, hopefully finding a balance."<P><P>------------------<BR>This interview was posted by Stuart Sweeney on behalf of Donald Hutera.<P>Donald Hutera writes regularly on dance and arts for The Times, Evening Standard, Time Out, Dance Europe, Dance Magazine (US) and Dance Now. He is co-author, with Allen Robertson, of The Dance Handbook.<P>This interview first appeared in either the Spring or Autumn 2001 editions of Dance Umbrella News. <BR> <BR>Join Dance Umbrella's mailing list to receive future editions of Dance Umbrella News. <BR>Call: 020 8741 5881 <BR>Email: mail@danceumbrella.co.uk <BR>Web: <A HREF="http://www.danceumbrella.co.uk" TARGET=_blank>www.danceumbrella.co.uk</A>

This review was posted in another thread by <B>Shawn Renee Lent</B>:<P>**********************************<P><B>DÉJÀ DONNÉ - ARIAL SPINTA</B> <BR>The Place, Robin Howard Dance Theatre 10 November, 2001 - 8pm<P>With their evening-length production Aria Spinta, the multinational Déjà Donné company provides a unique dance farce with a wide appeal. Founders/Choreographers Lenka Flory (Czech Republic) and Simone Sandroni (Italy) have created a piece that, at times, is uneasily sensual and merely on the verge of making a point; yet at most other times, is brilliantly intricate and representative of how completely exhilarating dance theatre can be.<P>Aria Spinta contributes to both Dance Umbrella’s 2001 international festival and the Funny Bone at The Place series, “a rolling programme of danceworks (at The Place’s Robin Howard Theatre) which inject comedy into choreography and put a smile on your face.” This Déjà Donné’s production, which premiered in Belgium in 1999, successfully weaves slapstick with contemporary dance. Sandroni’s movement in itself contains little humour other than well timed groping and animated facial expression. The comedic brilliance, you see, lies in the unexpected situations and hilarious multilingual text.<P>Déjà Donné has been performing internationally since 1997. Aria Spinta, one of only two pieces in the company’s current repertoire, is centered on a generic show within a show storyline that lends itself to hilarious tangents. Three self-centered, domineering women and two pitiful, immature men attempt to salvage the world of their deteriorating show. After numerous tantrums and antics, their stable world surrenders to chaos. Discreetly, our five mates panic, yet--after more than 100 performances—possess a peculiar precision. <P>The energy of Aria Spinta, although not completely infectious, is astounding. With a bizarrely appropriate soundtrack, it enwraps you in a vivacious night of theatre. Flory is a master of manic pace and spatial design with her ‘interprets’ tinkering with and within the audience. Largely due to Vincent Longuemare’s active lighting design, Aria Spinta (loosely translated from Italian as pushed air) seamlessly swaps between participatory and spectator sport. <P>Technically, the five performers are as adept at involving the audience and holding attention as they are leaping and shifting weight. Each of them has at least one moment of absolute abandonment; the conviction with which they carryout these wild moments is to be more than commended.<P>Unfortunately, substantial subject matter fails to be genuinely explored or incorporated. An ingenious idea of ‘the false enjoyment of a entertainer being a form of prostitution’ is aroused but not awoken. With her shirt acting as a low-budget peep show, Sofia provides an exceptionally intriguing performance. Nevertheless, the characters are generally two-dimensional and sustain very little development. We leave the characters just as we found them. But, I do say, we are thrilled by their quirkiness all the same.<P>The whimpering final moment of the production is followed by thunderous appreciation. The young audience, who just 70 minutes earlier push their way inconspicuously through the entrance in order to claim a good seat, leave with a pleasant smile in their eyes and a sense of community. <P>Definitely look for Déjà Donné when they tour the UK in April/May 2002 with their latest production, Bella Copia.<P><BR>

<B>Deja Donne, The Place, London<BR>John Percival<BR>The Independent</B><P> <BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>The kerfuffle while we sat waiting for this show was the more surprising since The Place is one of the few theatres in London that give a free programme to every spectator. Yet there was this young woman making her way up the steps providing copies to many people who apparently lacked them, and making a great fuss about it in noisy altercation with a chap on the other side of the hall.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE><P><A HREF="http://www.independent.co.uk/story.jsp?story=104788" TARGET=_blank><B>more...</B></A><P><BR>