A series of one-on-one performances prompts participants to reflect on the nature of intimacy in personal life and immersive theatre
“Who was the last lover you danced with? When you were dancing, was there music playing? Do they smell like me?”
A woman asks me these questions as we slow dance on a small landing draped in fabric so it feels like an isolated room. The scene is illuminated only by Christmas lights. Quiet music is playing and the woman’s hands are warm and soft. This was the beginning of my journey through Duet-ed, a series of five, one-on-one experiences set in multiple, dimly lit rooms and nooks of Vital Joint in Brooklyn. It is a site-specific, interactive performance by What Holds Heat, a collaboration between Nic Adams and Cori Marquis, reflecting upon intimacy, fidelity and trust.
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| Photo by Lee Rayment |
Some of the scenes are conversational pieces, where a character leads you into dialogue, while others occur in complete silence. One of the rules of Duet-ed is that you shouldn’t speak unless a performer addresses you, so it’s easy to know what to do. I chat with the barmen about open relationships and our preferences regarding being a big spoon or a little spoon. Lit by the giant moon behind his back, he pours me some red wine and explains the concept of “compersion,” the joy experienced while watching or thinking about your partner being with someone else. But then he shows me something that creeps me out a little, ruining a newly developed trust.
How far can we stretch our acceptance of a loved one’s choices? I find myself reflecting, while listening to a woman as she completes the finishing touches of her makeup before embarking on a night out. Being in such intimate proximity with a character intensifies the involvement in their life drama, but also turns the reflection inwards. What would I do? Are my relationships anything like that? The small bathroom has a bluish glow and is filled with the smell of nail polish. She asks me to type a text for her, and, as she changes her mind about the wording, she tells about her experiences with open relationships and marriage. As soon as the text is sent, I am asked out as abruptly as I was accepted into this circle of trust. I move on to the next encounter.
We often look for a specific virtue in a partner, something to fulfill our own shortfallings, perhaps. Before the show starts, audience members are asked to write their preferred trait on a piece of golden ribbon and tie it around their wrists. This bracelet acts as sort of a charm and each performer leaves a mark on it with a Sharpie throughout the performance. At first I thought that it was designed to keep track of which one-on-ones you’ve experienced. But since the maximum number of audience members is five, it is relatively easy to rotate them. Later on, I thought of the symbolic meaning of the bracelet: each encounter, however brief it was, leaves an impact in you. The Sharpie threw me off, making me feel like I was participating in a bureaucratic process rather than a personalized experience. It’s incredible how the smallest detail in the design of an immersive show can transform the perception of it.
Whether it was the smell of essential oil (which reminded me of a yoga studio) or the “waiting area” filled with books (a little like at a doctor’s office), I immediately felt like I was in some kind of therapy. Verbal interactions were done in low, soothing voices and gentle, physical contact of variable length and intensity had a soothing effect. The rules are established from the beginning and performers guide the participants with verbal and non-verbal cues but it took me a while to get used to the amount of tactile interaction. Yet managing expectations isn’t always easy when it comes to physical contact. I felt extremely vulnerable in a couple of instances, like when I was spooning with a performer and just breathing. But I can only imagine how vulnerable she must have also felt.
Duet-ed makes you reflect on emotional intimacy and uses touch as one of the narrative tools, along with dialogue, smell, and taste. To keep the interactions between the audience members and the performers within the frame of theatrical experience, the show borrows not only from therapy but also from ritual. One of the ritual-like experiences I went through was reminiscent of a session with a fortune-teller or a spiritual healer involving cards and matchstick cabins, silent directions and a sip of tea. The obscurity of it was a little puzzling and peculiar.
The other ritualistic practice I experienced was a group dance performed by the audience members and actors together. As two or three audience members met between the one-on-ones in a common area under a canopy made of ribbons, they began to teach each other an unsophisticated but beautiful round dance. Learning and practicing each combination separately, we then put them together at the end of an hour-long show. (I personally have a soft spot for communal dances.) These simple patterns are accessible for nearly everyone, as there was no judgment of your performing abilities and everybody goes through the learning together. Throughout the night each audience member was all experiencing one-one-one performances, sharing their thoughts, secrets and regrets. But as it turns out, there is another type of intimacy that can be achieved through a group dance. No matter what kind of moves we perform in our individual duets, in the end we are all parts of a bigger circle.
(This review was published on noproscenium.com)
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