I saw the show at Warwick Arts Theater on 25 january 2011.

When I would mention in passing that I was going to see the performance, I didn’t quite know what to call it: “I’m going to a play – well, not a play,” I would say – “…a performance” – “I’m seeing Danish Dance Theatre,” I said by the end of the day, and it is appropriately, simply, named. In fact, experiencing the genre – “dance theatre” helped me to appreciate the art of performance in general.

Choreographed by Tim Rushton, the show is advertised as “classical beauty of ballet combined with the power of contemporary dance,” a combination that is both strong and poetic. The technical precision of ballet implies deliberateness, while the contemporary aspects invoke emotion. The rapid yet elegant motions tell stories that you can’t quite place.

The first piece, Enigma, opens with an empty stage and minimal effects – just enough lighting to simply cover the space. The dancers begin their fluid movements before any sound accompanies them. Throughout the piece the lighting shifts, first dramatically, throwing a pair of dancers into a harsh spotlight just as they strike a prominent pose, and later so naturally that the change is unnoticeable until it happens. Unnerving sounds fill the stage, resembling everyday sounds that are irritatingly unidentifiable. A memorable moment was when a male dancer spastically convulsed while a female dancer sat calmly still in a crouched position, unfazed.

Perhaps the most beautiful part of Enigma is the transition in sound to chimes as the stage fills with patches of light, subtly illuminating the dancers who are otherwise in smoky darkness.

The second piece, CaDance, features all men in an apparently effortless flow of movement – although the piece’s end, which focuses on one man who steps out from the crowd and begins to hyperventilate and shake violently, suggests a contrast between appearance and reality, between inner and outer experiences. This piece is illuminated by two prominent hanging lamps, and is accompanied by Andy Pape’s score performed by two live drummers. CaDance has more of an urban feel, but the music adds tribal-like rhythm.

Attempting to define the genre of this performance, I come to the phrase “poetry without words.” This interpretation is challenged by the opening of Kridt (“Chalk”). As dancers fill the stage, one remains at the back wall, which has become a giant blackboard, to write words across it. The letters overlap and there are no spaces or signs of punctuation in between: TIMETOLOVEATIMETOHATEATIMETOMOURN. The dancers in the foreground become the focal background as the audience struggles to distinguish the letters from another. Throughout the theatre I hear whispers of viewers sharing the words with one another. The blackboard guides through the story, as several of the dancers interact with it and modify what is written on it. One dancer traces the outline of another, creating a comical line of vague silhouettes, an interpretation of living movements. A third dancer traces over the same lines that were just inscribed as if she were learning it, or at least experiencing it through the scribe’s interpretation.

In these movements are embedded the essence of theatre: first there is an idea, then an interpretation, chosen by directors and actors, and then a third interpretation, from the audience.

The finale finds a male dancer center stage, surrounded by the other dancers in a circle, with sand pouring upon his head in a continuous streaming line. It was not until this moment that I thought of the dancers as human rather than representations of abstract concepts. The man’s single experience separated him from the crowd, which molds around him, and distinguishes him in his suffering. The entire piece is complemented by Peteris Vasks’s Musica Adventus.

For a theatre fan, Danish Dance Theatre provides an excellent introduction to the world of dance performance since it includes elements of theatre while also displaying talented performers and Rushton’s gracefully edgy choreography.