There are times when you hear so much about a work or performer that you eventually lack enthusiasm and expect to be disappointed. Not as a contrarian, but just because your specific experience (like being an arts critic) teaches you to temper your potential reaction. What’s more, hearing that something is youth-oriented will shape your impression further: You may be inclined to be (too) lenient in regard to the young performers or you may just want to slam everything they do because you think doing so will “toughen ‘em up for the real world.”
These thoughts were nagging at me as I brought an open mind to GIRLFLY’s 2024 summer show, A Bed, Affection, and 30 Languages (ran July 24 and 25 at CounterPulse). Mind you, my primary concern was the COVID safety of the venue—which some of the adults in attendance tried to ruin—but I’ll admit that I arrived with a genuine curiosity about what the next potential generation of dancers had to show the world. GIRLFLY creators Flyaway Productions have built a cross-country reputation on trying to bridge the gap between “novice” dancers and the polished pros one usually sees on the CounterPulse stage.
Speaking of that stage, its all-white minimalism is broken up only the site of the titular “bed”—a black-metal-framed cot with no bedding and a flat, which surface—suspended centerstage. An intriguing first visual, to be sure. It wasn’t part of all 10 movements of the hourlong show, but it’s the sort of apparatus one would expect from a professional circus act.
The first sequence features most of our juvenile troupe gathered onto the sides of the hanging bed, slumber party-style, as they seem to pantomime a tea party of sorts. This leads into several “tug-of-war” style swings of the bed from one side to the other as the dancers hang from the head and foot of the bed frame. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but the impression one gets is that we’re witnessing how teenage girls tend to be pulled in every direction at once.
Thus begins an hour of movements that incorporate everything from Latine ritual dances, a Japanese theatrical mask, and even a clown pantomiming as a marionette—all to show off the skills of the dance troupe of various skill levels. Secret panels opened in the upstage wall and one dancer took her movements into the audience itself. One piece integrated social justice spoken word adjacent to the physical movements.
We’d later be told that the young dancers had an active role in conceptualizing and choreographing the segments (the clown sequence, in particular, came from the dancer’s confusion at the mainstream phobia of clowns), so watching the entire show, with its melding of traditional styles and contemporary messages, seems almost like a peek into these young folks’ minds. Given how adults tend to draw their own conclusions as to what those things could be, it’s refreshing to actually hear it from the youngsters’ own mouths (or, rather, movements) than to hear some boomer give their dusty impression as to what “these damn kids are goin’ on about these days”.
Taking the show at face value, one gets the impression that this particular group carries previous generations’ concerns about how they define themselves, individually and collectively. The use of music by SZA and Beyoncé suggests a longing for self-empowerment, with the Latine and Japanese segments showing a deep connection to with the heritage that led them this far. There was nothing specific to any current headlines (so far as I could tell), but it’s the sort of work that reminds an established artist of what it was like to be passionate when you still had your entire life ahead of you.
I’d like to say that the sentiment was shared by the adults in attendance—which, for the most part, it was—but some of the grown-ups couldn’t help but bring a few of their worst tendencies along with them. To my delight, CounterPulse’s COVID safety policy was very much in effect, as masks were required for audience members inside the theatre. Still, a group of Karens seated behind me felt particularly compelled to kvetch about how oppressed they felt having to wear the “stifling” masks that protected them, their fellow audience members, and the young performers on stage.
When people involved with the show (particularly, the director) appeared unmasked, the Karens took note, with one of them approaching the director in an attempt to talk her way out of wearing the mask. (One behind me didn’t even wait and took hers off immediately.) When they were told CounterPulse’s policy, they kept their faces covered for the entire show, no doubt much to their consternation and everyone else’s good health. For the record, my Aranet4’s CO² readings peaked around 996ppm at the end of the hourlong show.
Despite that attempt by certain adults to ruin the fun of these kids, it was intriguing to finally see what it was about Flyaway and GIRLFLY that got it the buzz that caught my attention. By sight, it’s easy to tell which dancers had more training than others, but it appeared that all of them truly wanted to be there and felt a purpose in expressing themselves through movement. From the perspective of cynical adulthood, it’s nice to have those kinds of reminders of what youthful optimism really looks like. And as an observer of the arts, it’s always nice to remember what made you “fall in love” with performing arts in your own youth.
GIRLFLY 2024: A BED, AFFECTION, AND 30 LANGUAGES ran July 24th and 25th at CounterPulse. Further info here.
