Two Cigarettes in the Dark | Photo: Jochen Viehoff

Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch: Two Cigarettes in the Dark

Two Cigarettes in the Dark | Photo: Jochen Viehoff

Two Cigarettes in the Dark opens on a stage that is anything but dark. Instead a brilliant white high-walled ballroom occupies the space, framed on three sides by room-sized glass-fronted vivariums – verdant tropical foliage in one, a mini desert and cactus in another, and a giant fish tank in the third. These decidedly artificial landscapes bring a jet of colour to an otherwise near-sterile environment and it is this interplay between muted and brighter/sharper tones that permeates this piece from 1986, showing at Sadler’s Wells as part of a double-bill with Vollmond. Typical of Bausch, it is a concoction of fragments featuring snippets of dance phrases, grotesque and ironic personae, and the expected social savagery. Two Cigarettes is not as rich as 1980, nor as redolent as Cafe Müller but it is interesting to see this lesser-known work and how it develops elements of both.

Although the title is taken taken from Bing Crosby’s song about a lover’s betrayal, Two Cigarettes in the Dark feels ostensibly concerned with display, both social and private, from the bird-inspired vocabulary of the dancers’ arms, to the ironic glances of the dinner-jacketed men and the supercilious smiles of the ball-gowned and be-furred women. The latter are of course regular features of many of Bausch’s works but here the empty, pointless preening of both genders is decidedly foregrounded: men dribble or spit fine champagne over themselves, skate across the floor adorned only in sunglasses and towelling shorts and slippers, women pull handstands to let their dresses fall over their heads, and our ‘hostess’ greats us with weighted pronouncements.

The first half is lighter and shorter, whilst the second is longer, darker, and richer in objects and colour. But the additional length and trappings don’t quite have the same power as the sparse brutality of the first half; and whilst there are some whimsical motifs that emerge throughout the work the brutality and futility of the action is the stronger thread, in spite of some sections of the audience’s response to the contrary. These stronger moments though are rarely the main vocabulary and instead they are the momentary glances or small actions that betray obscured emotional territories, only later to erupt into frenzied action or full-bodied hysteria. Here, then, is where Two Cigarettes is at its most evocative and psychological – articulating whole vistas of despair within brief moments. Interestingly, unlike some of Bausch’s earlier work where the group of dancers as a corps is a central presence, here the figures are rarely united and instead each individual dancer’s persona is more clearly articulated and drawn upon. Throughout this, Bausch’s long-term dancer Dominique Mercy is a celestial presence – whether it is his flirtatious glances to the audience, the beguiling lock-kneed bouncing ‘chef’ or the deadpan diver.

Since Pina Bausch’s death Tanztheater Wuppertal have opted to restrict their repertoire to her work alone. Only time will tell if this leads the company to becoming an ossified museum piece, but in this work the presence of dancers who worked with Bausch herself retains the impact of the work. In addition the presence of older performers alongside newer members of the ensemble brings a greater authority and bleakness to the work.

www.pina-bausch.de

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About Thomas JM Wilson

Thomas JM Wilson has been writing for Total Theatre since 2001. His own performance work lies at the borders of dance and theatre, with a particular interest in solo performance. He is an Associate Artist of Gandini Juggling, working as Archivist and Publications Author. He also currently teaches on Rose Bruford's BA European Theatre Arts, and is a co-editor of the Training Grounds section of the journal Theatre, Dance and Performance Training.