Over-Literal Mime-Dancing

Adam and I went to see Edward Scissorhands at BAM on Friday, and I had one of those theatrical experiences where I was left thinking “did I miss something?”

This production was directed, conceived, choreographed, and for all I know, lit and designed by Matthew Bourne. He’s allegedly one of those polymath types, who’s hailed as a genius in his native England for his bold steps in moving modern dance in a brave new direction. He’s done shocking – shocking! – productions of Swan Lake where all the swans, and the corps de ballet are – gasp!- men! He’s responsible for a ‘re-imagining’ of “Carmen” entitled – wait for it . . . – “Car Man.”

Adam saw “Car Man” when he was in London and was distinctly unimpressed with his introduction to over-literal mime-dancing. As per Adam:

-dancer indicating ‘it’s so hot’ - wipes brow torturously –

-dancer indicating ‘but I must work on this car, man.’ – makes levering motion with arm -

And so on . . .

So when we went to see Edward Scissorhands at BAM, my expectations were already low. Over-literal mime-dancing just doesn’t really appeal to me. And over-literal mime-dancing is what Mr. Bourne does best – no, it is just what Mr. Bourne does.

Adam’s take on the show is far more insightful than mine, so I’ll limit myself to general bitchery. If I hadn’t seen the movie umpteen times in my youth, I would have had no idea what was going on, despite the O-L M-D. Maybe it’s just that this plot doesn’t lend itself easily to ballet, but that’s bullshit, because I’ve seen plenty of ballets in my day that have had complicated plots that were crystal-clear, despite their lack of scooters, slutty neighbors, and barbeque grills on-stage.

There’s the dream ballet towards the end of the first act, where Edward and Kim dance with the topiary-come-to-life, where the topiary dancers are wearing leafy cubes on their heads. If some costume designer came up to me holding a leafy tutu and a cube and told me that was my costume for the anemic attempt at an homage to Jerome Robbins scene, I would have jete’d my ass out of there, pronto. I know Jerome Robbins, sir, and you are no Jerome Robbins!

At one point during the dream ballet, Adam turned to me, forlorn, and mumbled, “Where are his scissor-hands?” They were just not on, but it wasn’t like they were dramatically removed to indicate Edward’s opposable-thumbed dreamscape, it was just like the dresser had forgotten to put them on for the scene.

I am a big believer in theatre etiquette, and that means dressing up for the theatre, sitting back in my seat instead of leaning forward, not making out with my companion for the evening, if my companion is someone with whom I make out (ahem, people sitting in front of us!). As such, 99.99% of the time I stay for the duration of the show, out of respect for the performers. I left at intermission at The Cape Man, but that was just so inexcusably bad I felt I had no choice.

When Adam murmured to me “It’s OK if you want to leave at intermission,” I heaved a sigh of relief, and felt oh so much better when we made our way down Lafayette and had drinks to restore us. Not sure how the second act went, and really can’t say that I give a damn.