Navigating the Nightmare in Salt Horse’s ‘Titan Arum’

Corrie Befort in Titan Arum. 

Most nightmares frighten, and to wake up is sweet relief. In Salt Horse’s Titan Arum however (at Washington Hall through May 21), choreographers Beth Graczyk and Corrie Befort create a nightmarish world that intrigues and fascinates; a world through which dancers navigate, encountering mythical and sublime creatures, investigating power and leaving interpretation to the viewer’s discretion.

Created as a site-specific work, Titan Arum fits tightly into Washington Hall, and the choreographers use the space to the best of its capacity. Dancers appear in the U-shaped balcony, crawl over benches, explode out of creaking hinged doors and slither down walls. For most of the performance the dancers (Alia Swersky, Allie Hankins, Jessica Jobaris and Shannon Stewart, along with Graczyk and Befort) travel around the stage with stiff limbs, often frantic and fast-paced, seeming to move more for movement’s sake than to emulate any form of traditional (or even contemporary) dance.

Early in the show one of the dancers dramatically chokes and another figure emerges from the swinging doors at the back of the hall; the fallen dancer crawls into the bed as violins and cello creak and wail. One of the instruments hits a note sounding like the lone howl of a wolf. The nightmare begins to unfold. Hooded figures twitch around a hump-backed monster, a stiff, gold-faced queen holds dominion above the stage; a four-legged woman staggers about like a newborn fawn. Like the overused metaphor of rubbernecking at a terrible car accident, the grotesque characters are fascinating; they beg to be watched.

At one point, a dancer unravels the monstrous hump-backed creature revealing human arms and, eventually, a woman. In a clear-cut moment she encounters herself (or at least a form of humanity) within her own nightmare. 

The piece ends with a lengthy ensemble of the six women moving around the stage in entropy. Abstract movement rules, and the disjointedness of each dancer creates a chaotic scene until one woman emerges in a beaded headdress to close the work with a gyrating solo.

A visually stunning piece that presents the interaction (and intersection) of reality and the surreal, Titan Arum frightens in a fascinating way, leaving dreamy, intangible impressions that are hard to shake.

Tickets here. 

Image Courtesy of Salt Horse.