Dance on Camera Journal November/December 2011

November/December 2011

Personal notes on Wim Wenders’ film Pina-by Alla Kovgan

Apples & Oranges…& Horse Races -by Marta Renzi

Re: 1-287754863 Sunscreen Serenade -by Kriota Willberg

Endless Possibilities: Dance Through the Camera -by Jaime Kight


Personal notes on Wim Wenders’ film Pina

-by Alla Kovgan

When I first saw the trailer for Pina, Wim Wenders’ 3D film about Pina Bausch, I thought to myself: “Finally, somebody has created a dance film masterpiece!”

Yet, reading first reviews from the Berlin Film Festival, I worried that I might have set my expectations too high. The Guardian quoted the festival’s blog: “…there were those in the audience … of Pina who expressed a desire to cut the documentary stuff and just watch the dance…” When I watched the film this summer in Amsterdam, I had the same feeling. I would describe Pina as a documentary–tribute to Pina Bausch. It presents a series of personal musings by members of Bausch’s company remembering their mistress. Those musings are, of course, very moving to Bausch fans but might not be as interesting to folks who are less familiar with her work. The interviewees are often seated in front of a dark-grey moody background. Their words are heard in voiceover while they stare at the camera. At first, I was interested in this approach but as the film progressed, I found these interviews to be distracting from the dance, which is the definite highlight of the film. Rarely in cinema does a choreographer’s work overpower the filmmaker’s but Pina is definitely such an example. The dance sequences in Pina include excerpts from four filmed stage performances Kontakthof, Café Müller, Sacré du Printemps, and Vollmond; archival footage of Café Müller with Bausch herself; and choreography shot on location. Wenders masterfully shot the live-action dance material. For those of us who have seen Bausch’s work on stage, watching the film is as close as it gets to watching Bausch’s performances live. I only wish Wenders had thought through his film as a dance/performance film rather than a documentary. Had he structured it just out of the dance sequences, he would have succeeded in creating a truly immersive spectacular experience of Bausch’s work. Chantal Akerman did exactly that in 1983 in her film “Un jour Pina m’a demandé”/”One day Pina asked me…” which is an unforgettable journey into Bausch’s world of almost 30 years ago. Akerman followed Bausch’s company on tour, which is what Wenders originally intended to do. The film is a vibrant collage of performances and rehearsals in the theatre and on location and scenes from dancers’ life behind the scene. Nothing was choreographed for the camera in Akerman’s film and yet it feels like it was. Akerman choreographed reality and the viewer’s eye in the most meticulous way. I would be curious how these two films would come across if shown back to back. A lot is made of Pina being shot in 3D. And it is true that when the 3D is used well, I could really experience its subtle and elegant magic. I felt that the dancers passed right next to my seat and I could “enter their space” hearing and feeling their breathing. Listening to Wenders’ interview on his website, I learned that he had intended this: “3D was the solution to my dilemma… I felt that I did not have the tools to be in the realm of the dancers –[in their] space… With my conventional cameras I did not have access to that… 3D allowed me to enter that space and be there and witness the core and the essence of [Pina’s] work in the appropriate way… And actually, I feel that 3D and dancing are made for each other… You are sharing the aura of each and every one of these dancers. You are really involved in a different way. And that involvement was necessary to really get across the emotion that I felt each and every time I saw Pina’s plays.” Although Pina undoubtedly represents a tremendous achievement in capturing dance on film, I can’t help feeling to some degree disappointed. Bausch and Wenders started talking about this project 25 years ago. It is maddening to learn that all these years Wenders “did not know how to approach dance theatre and film”. When, finally, inspiration struck with the arrival of 3D, Bausch passed away. Excruciating! I wish Wenders had not waited for technological solutions but instead looked for ways to resolve his issues conceptually. I wish he had developed a genuine interest in true dance film collaboration rather than in dance documentaries. Wenders has it in him, as he started to explore dance film ideas in the brilliant shots throughout the town of Wuppertal, which make the trailer so intriguing. But he never went far enough. You must understand that Wenders had been a big hero of mine in the early 1990s when I watched all his films at the Museum of Cinema in Moscow. I expected him to bring all the boldness of his early works to PINA and to make an absolute masterpiece. How could he not if he was lucky enough to have a rapport with Bausch? Her work lent itself to cinema because she was so masterful at finding precise and poignant physical shapes to human emotions and creating movement images – something that cinema has been concerned with for its entire existence. It is painful to consider all the unrealized possibilities of their true collaboration. A part of me feels that Bausch herself would have never agreed to have Pina be her last word on film. Despite my reservations, I salute Wenders for bringing Bausch and dance film into the spotlight and reviving interest in dance among audiences who have no interest in it whatsoever. Such interest has not percolated that strongly since Fosse’s Cabaret, Robbins’ West Side Story and Von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark. I cheer Wenders for demonstrating what 3D offers to choreographers looking to capture their work on film. And most importantly, I am grateful to Wenders for creating an astounding record of Bausch’s work. All four performances featured in Pina were filmed in their entirety and will be released on a separate DVD. I very much look forward to watching them.

Apples & Oranges…& Horse Races

-by Marta Renzi

It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of opinion that makes horse races. -Mark Twain, from Pudd’nhead Wilson

Earlier this month, as DFA prepared for its 40th anniversary Dance on Camera Festival, I was lucky enough to attend two European dance film festivals: Cinedans in Amsterdam and In Shadow in Lisbon. In all, I must have watched almost 100 films in 8 days! Like DFA’s Dance on Camera, these festivals are helping to create an audience. More than simply bearing witness to what’s being made, they are also taste-making — even history-making. Both offered the chance for the public to pick favorites through audience choice awards: like betting on a horse to win? I chose not to vote at either festival. It seemed to me, after shifting gears to appreciate each ensuing voice in a mixed program, that to decide good or bad was choosing between apples and oranges. And as an artist myself – all too aware of the delights and deficits in my own dance filmmaking – I’d rather picture my audience with a generous heart than a clipboard at the ready. For its audience award, Cinedans created a complicated algorithm for the number of high votes in proportion to the number of attendees for any one screening: an attempt to make it “fair.” Meanwhile, at In Shadow, I sat next to a voting couple who operated on their own complicated ethics: they decided that their favorite short had the unfair advantage of operating with a respectable budget – so they disqualified it! But I did have some highlights: WHEN WE MEET AGAIN in Amsterdam and THE ICE BOOK in Lisbon. Both festivals also screened LIFE IN MOVEMENT a beautifully made new documentary by Sophie Hyde, which reveals the work – and too short life – of choreographer Tanja Liedtke, who died aged 29 in an accident as she was poised to become director of the Sydney Dance Company. Liedtke is introduced to us in “The Cost of Living” as the long-legged ballerina floor-dancing with no-legged David Toole. Thanks to this moving tribute, audiences can enjoy the compelling work of her dedicated company – and mourn the loss of a promising artist. As it turned out, LIFE IN MOVEMENT won the Best in Competition and the Audience Choice award at Cinedans, and was also shown at In Shadow. Both festivals held events in other parts of the city, presented documentaries as well as dance film shorts. Both also offered interactive – and rewarding – mixed-media experiences. One of the key differences between the two was programming. Like a playlist mixed by a good DJ, the best programming can build appreciation without getting stuck in a groove. So, my most satisfying collection of shorts at Cinedans was its opening night, which offered dance films in a wide range of styles, lengths and formats. A particularly apt pairing was the short HET GROTE GEBEUREN of starlings in flight, morphing and gliding, followed by Thierry DeMey’s LA VALSE, an adaptation of a piece based on “flocking” choreographed by Thomas Hauert with dancers wheeling and re-forming on a rooftop to music by Ravel. Most other shorts during Cinedans were grouped based on style – the one-minute wonders; the black and white program titled “nostalgia”; the one focusing on advertising/fashion. During those playlists, I felt a little stuck, as if the dj was only playing songs with the same basic beat. Sometimes, the curatorial point of view overwhelmed the individual work, doing a disservice to a short which might have shone better in contrast rather than in comparison. On the other hand, each night of Lisbon’s In Shadow offered completely mixed programming, almost to the point of exhaustion. The “competitive session” of shorts involved five nights of programs featuring a dozen films each. (There was some minimal overlap with those screened the week before at Cinedans.) The programming revealed In Shadow’s commitment to an artist’s voice, even when result was somewhat incoherent. There also seemed to be a preference for simpler production values and fewer – or no – producing partners. At In Shadow, I felt the filmmakers more directly; at Cinedans, the influence of the curators. Now I’m looking forward to Dance on Camera 2012 – sure to be different in its own way. And that’s what makes horse-races!

Re: 1-287754863 Sunscreen Serenade

-by Kriota Willberg

Below is an exchange shared with us by DFA member filmmaker Kriota Willberg, as a result of her “highly entertaining experience of applying for copyright for my short dance film.” The short, SUNSCREEN SERENADE, was nominated for a jury prize in DOCF 2010, and continues to tour as part of our Dance on Camera Touring Program – next stop: Dance Films Kino in Chicago in March 2012.

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On Sep 28, 2011, at 3:11 PM, Copyright Office wrote: Dear Kriota Willberg: Your application indicated a copyright claim in “choreography.” Upon examining the work, we found only some very standard movements of performers and quite a bit of material that could best be described as “finger puppet” movements. We do not consider this to be copyrightable choreography as intended under the copyright law and therefore cannot include that claim in this registration. Here is the basis for our decision: The copyright law includes choreography as a category of copyrightable subject matter. In granting copyright protection, Congress did not intend to extend protection to all forms of dance. The legislative history makes it clear that choreography does not include simple routines or social dances. A work must contain at least a minimum amount of original choreographic authorship to support a claim in choreography. Choreographic authorship is considered, for copyright purposes, to be the composition and arrangement of a related series of dance movements and patterns organized into an integrated and coherent whole. After reviewing the above, may we have your permission to delete that term and register the work with claims in the remaining elements: “script/play/screenplay, motion picture/audiovisual”? If there are questions about the above, please let me know. Sincerely, Ralph Gingery, Registration Specialist U.S. Copyright Office, Motion Picture Section And the filmmaker’s response…. Dear Ralph Gingery, Thank you for your acknowledgement of my application for copyright for the dance film Sunscreen Serenade. I appreciate that the elements “script/play/screenplay, motion picture/audiovisual” of the film will be protected. However I must question the exclusion of my “choreography” as a protected element. Here’s my defense: The series of activities executed by my finger puppets is, indeed, choreography executed by professional dancers. The movements of their hands had to be planned, organized into a unique sequence and spatial arrangement, committed to memory, rehearsed, and executed. The performance of intricate hand gestures to specifically metered music requires the coordination of trained professionals and is not easy. Although the finger puppets are on a small stage, spacial arrangements are exact and meant to be an homage to musical extravaganza films from the 30s, 40s, and 50s. I would also like to point out that if someone was to re-mount my “finger puppet movements” on live dancers, the steps would be recognized as “the arrangement of a related series of dance movements and patterns organized into an integrated and coherent whole” and the audience would easily be able to recognize that the remounted dance fit my choreography of the dancer’s hands exactly. Busby Berkeley, Fred Astaire, and many contemporary choreographers create(d) choreographic sequences using “simple routines” and “social dance” steps. Additionally, many post-modern choreographers and filmmakers use not only simple routines, but pedestrian gestures in their performances and films. By legal definition as you describe it, much of the filmed “choreography” of Yvonne Rainer, Douglas Dunn, David Gordon, or Pooh Kaye is not copyright protected, as the work reflects “simple routines” created by the choreographers. Sunscreen Serenade was funded by a dance film grant from the Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center (EMPAC). I am sure they will be shocked to find they did not pay for choreography. The Dance Film Association has been touring my film as an example of dance and choreography in film. Imagine their surprise to find that this film’s choreography is not copyrightable. That bodes ill for many other dance filmmakers. So, I think you can guess that I would prefer you leave in the term “choreography” as a protected element of my film. If I have no recourse, and you will not allow it, then please do copyright the remaining elements. In either case I would be very grateful if you would notify me of your decision. Thank you, Kriota Willberg

Endless Possibilities: Dance Through the Camera

-by Jaime Kight 

Dance Films Association’s Solar 1 film screening presented a program as imaginative as a child’s world of make-believe. Live performers interacted with Bjork on screen; dark angels investigated a snowy landscape; a romantic attraction escalated into a bar fight. Blending dance with film, choreographers allowed creativity to run rampant. Several video shorts were shown and four little films particularly stood out. In Rebecca Kelley Brooks’ Miracle Tear, Bjork’s music video “Big Time Sensuality” played on screen while a trio of live dancers permeated the space. One performer mimicked the singer’s movements while others circulated among the audience, periodically inviting them to change their perspectives by picking up their chairs and moving to different spots throughout the piece. Brooks created the perfect tension between video and live performance by balancing movement, film and the unpredictability of the audience’s vantage point. The next film — Melt by Noémie Lafrance — began with a group of female dancers dissolving on a wall beneath the Manhattan Bridge. Dripping with lanolin, beeswax and thin muslin, the performers sat in chairs attached to the wall. Captivating, inwardly focused and almost apathetic, they awaited something inevitable, stuck on the wall until it occurred. Melt consisted of highly dramatic dynamics caused not only by its gravity-defying dancers, but by the idle and unresolved ambience. Pretty Big Dig by Anne Troake proved that size doesn’t always equal strength. Three massive industrial cranes glided through a construction site as gracefully as swans. The “dancers” used their trunk-like extensions to lengthen their swan-necks, to take a bow or to share weight. Amusing, clever and visually stunning, Troake’s film also proved that the strongest can embody tranquility. End Love, starring the music group OK Go, captured hipsterdom at its finest. Directed by Eric Gunther and Jeff Lieberman, the dorky group wore brightly-colored hoodies with matching skinny jeans and white Van sneakers. Awkward and beguiling, they danced with thrusting pelvises, Sumo-wrestler poses and gawky arm movements. End Love (about 5 minutes long) had the spirit of a flash mob where the gangly and untrained are revered and welcomed. Maladroit everything made this short totally alluring. All the videos expanded the possibilities of what can be thematically and logistically achieved. Each concentrated on various elements (i.e. space, equipment, or props) that were un-theatrical yet brilliantly utilized. The medium of film allows for a flexibility and freedom impossible to attain in proscenium and theater spaces. Seeing and shooting films from new angles and environments gave fresh choreographic weight to dance/film making, creating works with greater substance, multiple layers and new perspectives. “OK, Let’s Go!”
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