“Dance has this capacity to really create empathy”: Rambert x (LA)HORDE is liberating our bodies and brains

One dancer pulled away from the horde of ten or so dancers moving their bodies in a way that can only be described as pulsating at a rave — electric, addictive, breathless. Perfect, chaotic harmony. He stopped, hands on knees and breathed. So did I. Without realising it I’d been more or less holding my breath for the last few minutes. For the first time and, given the reception, probably not the last, London-based dance school Rambert partnered with French choreography trio (LA)HORDE for a five-night run at the Southbank Centre. The result was ninety minutes of choreography that was as addictive as it was uncomfortable, exploring themes like sex, oppression (think: makeshift bloomers, raised arms and the French revolution) and freedom. 

Two of the three choreographed pieces had been previously performed by the French troupe, now reworked for the Rambert dancers. Weather is Sweet and Room With A View channeled classic swing dancing from 1920s Harlem, complete with partnered dancing and frenetic footwork — only it was set to the beating D&B of a rave, and interpreted through the lens of our post-internet culture. In these reinterpreted performances, the dancers answered some of the most poignant questions modern-day culture raises about dance — how we move our bodies in a club setting, the impact the internet has had on raving and how gender as a construct becomes less important as the night wears on.

Hop(e)Storm, however — the first routine of the bunch — was crafted specifically for this particular group of dancers. “Most of the time we are very aware that our bodies are, kind of, vessels for functionality,” Marine Brutti, one third of (LA)HORDE, says. “We’re using them for going from one place to another. There is a very strict way for how to behave in different environments. And for (LA)HORDE, the stage is a place of transgression.” This transgression, Brutti explains, occurs through bringing something often concealed in the darkness of a warehouse of the privacy of one’s bedroom into the light. “You can explore movements and total human freedom in a very specific time and space, and have witnesses to it,” she continues. “It’s not the same as dancing on your own in your room when no one is looking — you are actually doing this act while people are watching, and while people are receiving your energy.”

To Brutti, the beauty of intimate human connection is only made more special when done on a stage, with fellow artists and nowhere to hide. “We are firm believers that dance has this capacity to really create empathy, because there is nothing else but the body’s movement to connect with your soul,” she says. While Weather is Sweet was the most sexed-up performance of the night, covering all bases from heavy petting, grinding, aggression and consent, Hop(e)Storm was about division. The curtains opened to reveal the male and female dancers evenly divided on opposite sides of the stage. With a cry, the first dancer ran to tackle her male counterpart, the other four following suit, leaping at the others with reckless abandon. Then their pace slowed, defeated, and, arms linked, they fell into a Rockin’ Robin meets river dance rhythm — a trance designed to make the audience ponder.

Camille Bavera: How does choreography like this help us, the audience, to see the world differently?

Marine Brutti: Because it doesn’t come with subtitles there are more possibilities for interpretation. When the audience is in the room and witnessing what’s happening on stage, their mind can really drift to create new meanings. And it’s open enough so that, even though people can still anchor themselves to the general tone of what we’re trying to share, there is still a lot of room for interpretation. It becomes kind of like an incomplete story where the audience has to actively participate to make it make sense for themselves. It’s not words, it’s not your ‘very easy to digest’ kind of sentences. It’s like a very wild language that reaches everyone’s soul differently.

CB: What is this performance bringing to the current dance space that wasn’t there previously? What do you want to say with this work?

MB: I think the beauty of the programme is that you get to be in touch with the work in the most raw way, meaning that, normally, we love to bring context to our shows by always featuring very consequential sets — we love to give a landscape to the type of movements we’re creating. So, suddenly, when we were creating this programme, it needed to be lighter. We had a white floor instead of black, and the costumes are just to give a certain kind of context on the movement they are showing to the audience.

Because we are directors of the Ballet National de Marseille, we have been on the other side — inviting and commissioning artists to come and create for our dancers. To give them the chance to explore different movements and visions. To have different experiences in their body and in the way they dance, or they create, or they relate to an artist’s voice. So we’re very happy to be on the other side of it and to be, for the first time, invited to share our repertoire and to create new repertoire for a company that is not ours. It’s a kind of taking care of the community and bringing together a wider community of dancers to share an experience.

CB: What is it about club and rave culture that you find the most exciting and engaging?

MB: Firstly, I think it’s a personal story because this is a little bit like how (LA)HORDE was born — and we inherited many of the ideas and the behaviours from queer club culture. It allowed us to be more inclusive, welcoming and understanding of the intersectionality of the fight for rights. We remember from very early on when we were in queer clubs, the owners of the clubs would say to us, it’s not only about being gay or who you’re able to love, it’s also about defending people who are in prison, people who are drug addicts, people who are marginalised, people who have had aids. It’s really about being able to protect everyone. And I think it has opened our mind forever about creating safe spaces that are not sterile, where there is still room for debate, for understanding and for widening your ideas and your horizons.

I think this will forever be something we carry in our heart and in our work. And this is why it always transpires somewhere in the choreography that we create — we can’t help but celebrate this part of ourselves because this is what brought us here today. And then there is also the most simple thing, which is, it’s a place where we can liberate our bodies and we can really dance. Be protected by the night and by the darkness. By the anonymous kind of way one can move towards the night. And I think this is something, a feeling of freedom, that we cannot necessarily find anywhere else.