Encantado, Lia Rodrigues
Lia Rodrigues, Encantado © Sammi Landweer
The first five minutes of Lia Rodrigues’ Rose Prize-nominated work Encantado was accompanied by coughing. Shuffling. The nervous compression of sneezes. Because it was in complete silence.
The only action on stage was the slow unfurling of a large tapestry of interwoven scarves and fabric. Such a brave move from the choreographer, I mused to myself, humoured by the increasing discomfort and confusion growing around me. To have that much confidence that your work will hold an audience’s attention for that long.
Oh, my sweet summer child. How I miss your innocence. This was nothing. The bravest move was yet to be played.
Because it soon transpired that the work was to be danced by an entirely naked ensemble.
If anything has surprised me in my six months of dance reviewing, it’s how often nudity crops up in contemporary dance. Hofesh Shechter’s uncanny dreamscape Theatre of Dreams featured a man running starkers towards the front of the stage, while Pina Bausch’s Rite of Spring had flashes of bare breast. Sometimes nudity makes sense within a dance work: it has a narrative point or heightens an emotion. But more often than not, it feels gratuitous. A recent work at Resolution Festival finished with the soloist baring her chest to the audience – a move that was completely unnecessary in conveying the work’s meaning.
My initial reaction to Encantado having a whole company of nude dancers was that it could have been danced in underwear to the same effect. But after sitting with it, I’ve concluded that the wild, animalistic nature of the work simply wouldn’t have been the same had it been danced clothed.
Our dance commenced with bare dancers walking on to stage, one by one, and slithering slowly under the maze of cloth. They compressed and extended their bodies like worms, until the right cloth was located to wrap their bodies and pose in. Watching these forms rise from within the fabric at a snail's pace felt less dance work, more art installation. The figures were beautiful and at times it was like watching a safari as dancers combined into horse-like shapes while others draped themselves in fabric featuring zebras or screamed out.
Finally, a repetitive score made up of shakers, muffled Portuguese, drums and pipes kicked in. As the piece gained momentum it became more unruly. Bums were flashed, dancers bounced up and down, men caressed cloth around their stomach as if pregnant, and fabric was flared out like a mermaid tail, all while the company constantly sorted through and transported the mound of material. And their faces - full of wild expression! The work was inspired by the Brazilian Favelas and you certainly got a sense of the colourful chaos here.
This work will be for very few (indeed a couple of audience members abandoned ship), and I don’t know that I could, in my heart of hearts, recommend anyone to spend money on this (apart from maybe the most avid art students). But as a piece of art, a clever construction, I applaud Rodrigues. Her long career as a choreographer shone in her ability to manage choreography with such complex logistics (How long does it take to set up the roll of fabric? How do you ensure the pieces of cloth are in the right place?), and to pace a work to build it to such a frenzy in a way that you didn’t notice it building up at all. But beyond the construction? I left feeling overwhelmed, my senses more than a little assaulted, and uncertain as to the point of it all.
★★★
Encantado by Lia Rodrigues
Sadler’s Wells, London / 8 February 2025
Press ticket
Part of the Rose International Dance Prize Find out more →
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