I tried to learn as much as I could about the production beforehand so that I could go to it with a vague idea of what to expect. The unfortunate part that I was not prepared for was the antsy, stand up, stand down, program fumbling, looking around every which way, burping, knee scratching man sitting next to my poor husband. It was really difficult because the performance starts out with a procession where the audience is nearly expected to be solemn and "sit with themselves" as Morgan Thorson said after the performance. This was obviously more than the man could bear, and it was making me anxious and angry because I was trying to let myself get pulled into the piece, but this own man's anxieties kept pulling me back out! Later on the piece became more rigorous and the man turned to the woman sitting next to him and said, "What the hell is this?" A while later my husband and I stood up to let the man pass through to the aisle and I held on to the hope that he wouldn't return back to his seat like he had earlier. A few minutes passed and I finally relaxed as I realized the man wasn't coming back. I'm sure the people behind us were thankful that we would no longer be interrupting their view. This kind of reminded me of being in a Catholic church as a child. A certain behavior is expected of you as you quietly sit and prepare for the beginning of Mass. The fidgety man was clearly not abiding by some unwritten religious code, and he was just plain rude.
To get back to the piece, Heaven was a wonderful synthesis of sound, light, space, and movement. The work opened with white light as one would expect Heaven to be like and later morphed into a variety of enlightening hues made possible by lighting magician Lenore Doxsee. I especially loved the part with the single bright white spotlight. The light nearly jerked across the floor as one performer would chase after it, jump onto it, only to roll slightly off of it. The dancer would then get up and try to hit the mark again. As the spotlight moved there were times the light would cross through the jewels hanging down from above the stage and as the light would pass through it would refract for one small moment in time. This part of the dance was probably one of my favorites. With the piece's idea of perfection I saw the chasing of the spotlight as trying to achieve perfection, but always slightly missing the mark, never being able to fully attain it.
Emmett Ramstad paid fine attention to detail with his costume design and implementing the white and ivory textiles into the audience space. Some of the male performers were outfitted in dresses and some female performers in pants. The performer's armpits were left unshaven and hairstyles were done in a way to further question gender. I was aware of this androgynous concept before the show and further the idea of angels not being male or female. I liked not having to think about seeing a man or a woman dancing, but rather simply a group of people who were simply being.
The performance offered up a variety of soundscapes. At times there would be just one small voice murmuring ever so gently and other times the whole group of performers erupted into a full bodied song. Sometimes the sound of gibberish was utilized and emphasized to show meaning instead of allowing words to plainly give definitions to the audience. Alan and Mimi were not just left to the sidelines to make the music either. Just as the dancers were very much a part of the music, Alan and Mimi danced in the piece as well.
As far as movement is concerned, dancers bowed, gazed, and even threw their bodies against the back wall. This was not a pretty little dance, but a performance with raw passion and wholehearted rapture. I wouldn't have wanted to see anything less.
After the performance we stuck around to hear the discussion. What Costume and Visual Designer Emmitt Ramstad said sticks out in my mind. He said that working on a piece titled Heaven was interesting due to being told that heaven is a place that he is not welcome to go to. That made me really mad. I don't care who you are or what you've done, but nobody deserves to be the subject of hate and it is never anyone's place to tell anyone that they are going to hell.
I thought about this as we stopped at a grocery store on our drive home. We drove past a church whose sign said, "All are welcome."
Do they really mean it?
It clearly isn't true everywhere.
