Company:  Rogue Dance Productions

Choreographer: Jacody Weathers

Performers:  Victoria Bennett, Zachary Birdwell, Casey Charlton, Brittany Corrigan, Lily Deatherage, Tiffany Franco, Brekyn Knowles, Arielle Lemke, Breckell McGowan, Emilio Minto, Nance Stevens, Paige Tamarkin, Shanna Trigili, Bailey Waters, Keylee Watkins, Jacody Weathers

The recent production of Animal Farm by Rogue Dance Productions presented us with a creative interpretation of this classic dystopian novel by George Orwell. This will always be a bit controversial, but I believe that the best criteria for a derivative work is not how true it is to the original source material but how valid it is on its own terms. A faithful rendition of a famous work can still be bad art. For many of us in the audience, Animal Farm, the novel, is a distant memory and I suspect most have not read it at all. This was theater. It was performance art. And – oh yes, dance. It does not exist without an audience, and as an audience, we are the ultimate interpreters. Regardless of its source or inspiration, all that matters is the imaginative world that it helps each of us create.

As far as I was concerned, what I was observing was less Animal Farm, the novel, and more Animal Farm-flavored chaos. I readily supplied my own characters and plot lines. If there are big lapses in my recollection, if my observations and references don’t conform to the original novel, I really don’t care. I’m going with the movie in my head. It was terrific.

For example, I identified an outstanding female soloist as the Evil Fairy. I think that was initially inspired by her costume – a beautiful, black, full-body affair with feathery elements that vaguely suggested wings. I was informed later in a Q&A after the show, that she actually represented the character Moses in the novel. First, my dim memory of the book doesn’t include a character named Moses, and as for the guy parting the Red Sea – forget it. Whichever one you pick, Moses was never a thing of fierce beauty descending on the entourage. Moses couldn’t spin effortlessly on one foot or casually raise an ankle above his head. Moses’ outstretched arms did not threaten to take flight. And as for the “Evil”, Moses did not appear, unannounced, like the embodiment of frightening grace, dominating the stage and our attention. It may be their dance but it’s my movie. She was the Evil Fairy and she was terrific.

Just like pro wrestling is nothing without its heel, every good drama needs a great bad guy. Rogue (slowly, methodically), built a terrific anti-hero. At first, the male lead blended into the mix, distinguished only by some slightly more aggressive behavior in a frequently combative environment. He represented a particular character (unknown to me) for which he adopted certain identifying characteristics. Assume you had broken your instep arches and had to shift your weight to the balls of your feet – and then tried to cover for this aberration so that it wouldn’t be that noticeable. You would then be closely replicating his walk. Gradually, his aggression escalated and his character degenerated, becoming more furtive. Finally, he became this hunched, aberrant thing, whiskey bottle in hand, with a smoldering, furious glare.  It was this attention to physical detail and actual character development that elevates this work from an interesting dance piece and places it solidly in the realm of a thoroughly engaging theatrical production.

The opening number provided a foretelling of both the dance/performance style and the storyline. It began with an effective blend of high-energy hip-hop and contemporary dance styling, clearly presented as such by the entire ensemble in an orderly dance line. That quickly broke down into paired dancers who appeared frightened and seemingly attacked by others. There was a particular movement – dancers confronting each other forearm to forearm, the crossed forearms becoming a motif for hand-to-hand conflict. The introduction of a person with a whip signaled an overarching external threat which the ensemble rallied to disarm, then reassembled into the dance line they had formed at the beginning. So – from where I sat, we had established internal strife, external threat, and non-stop, high-energy dance – and the rest of the program continued accordingly.

What was interesting was that as the program progressed, the energy level stayed high but the dance style became more difficult to discern. Other than the isolated solos, it was so thoroughly integrated into the dramatic action on stage that it seemed like its own thing, performers struggling and reacting, seamlessly following the imperative of the plot. This was either theatrical dance or theater with non-stop movement. This is to say that while a lot of the movement was chaotic, it didn’t feel abstract or unmotivated. There were only the briefest moments where it existed as a “dance routine” in isolation. I really can’t describe it much better than that. There were battles, confrontations, posturing, celebrations and so much more. Maybe if I saw it again, I could be more specific about the movement associated with each but I’m not at all sure that would be informative, because mostly – it just kept kicking ass.

Identifying performers as specific characters from Animal Farm proved to be impossible for me.

The group which, after some reflection, may have been meant to represent pigs from the novel (I don’t know) were, in my mind, clearly Nazi butchers attacking the entourage with serious malintent. Again – my movie, don’t ask. They wore butcher-esque aprons and had a signature gesture, both hands over one hip, that made them look oddly formidable.

Were the embattled performers hunkered on all fours being animals or simply cowering? Did it make a difference?  The irony of presenting a literary analogy inherent in a novel where animals are representative of humans, here being presented in dance as humans representing animals representative of humans was not lost on me. Fortunately, I just didn’t care. The essential elements were clear enough. Infighting. Oppressor. Oppressed. Resistance. Joy. Let the struggles begin. You shouldn’t have to read the book to enjoy the dance.

To my mind, the clearest representation of actual animals were the beautiful, black-clad attack dogs who were introduced on all fours, the sparkling, jewelry-quality elegance of their muzzles assuring us that if they ripped out a throat, it would be done very stylishly. The long red leashes, attached to each of their necks, were held from aloft by our resident anti-hero standing on a platform. The initial reveal of this scene was calculated and stunning. Coming up from black, focused lighting seemed to flash among the leashes, making them appear in the dark like lasers or tracers. As the reveal continued, I was first aware of the glow from the performers’ shining muzzles and the final reveal exposed them all as a beautiful, fearsome assemblage, commanded by a now thoroughly committed malevolence. It was an inspired piece of theatrical staging, simple in concept, elegant in execution, that few dance companies aspire to and fewer yet accomplish.

The costuming was simple but effective. I’m beginning to think that “homeless dystopian post-apocalyptic” is an actual clothing style category, and this consistently worked for the bulk of the ensemble who represented the downtrodden. Key roles were treated to their own version of off-kilter fashion and there were a few standouts, like the Evil Fairy with her impressive black, flight-optional costume and some unnamed types who showed up in modified steampunk. And who doesn’t love them some good steampunk? The outrageously clever goggles and punk paraphernalia were a real touch – surprising and adroitly used for effect – though I would be perfectly willing to see it done to excess.

The music selection was commendable, and while we usually take that for granted, I give it special mention here because it worked so well both artistically and structurally. Each of the seventeen acts was defined by its own song, making for clear transitions in a long, non-stop production. Speaking for the audience, knowing when things start and stop is very reassuring and helps us anticipate the inevitable “now for something completely different”. And there was a lot of “different” – the music providing us with elements of driving rock, rap, and occasional bizarre variations of otherwise recognizable songs that seemed to perfectly fit this semi-recognizable dystopian world. Thanks to the musical cues, I was able to keep up with the chaos.

Invention, and the act of reimagining the world, are the essence of art, and while the references to George Orwell’s novel, Animal Farm, were scattered about the stage – such as the barn-like backdrops, hay bales and occasional barbed wire, Rogue Dance Productions co-producers, Jacody Weathers and Mia Grady, were committed to transforming the material, not duplicating it. They stated a commitment to literacy and this production would certainly support that.

You didn’t need to plumb the depths of this production to get meaning and enjoyment from it. It had much to say about oppression, protest and survival that was obvious for all to see. But here’s the thing about integrity in art. If you dig deeper, there’s still something more there. Each of these performers was a named character in George Orwell’s narrative. And if you were curious enough to pursue the source material, there was a lot of that “more”, to be found here. For myself, at a distant remove from the novel, I could only skim the surface, supplying my own impressionistic characters and imaginary content – but that was as it should be. Rogue Dance Production’s interpretation of Animal Farm was an energizing, thought-provoking treat, a complex narrative which only required that you show up and experience it – which I’m very glad I did.

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