Cunningham | Little White Lies

Cun­ning­ham

13 Mar 2020 / Released: 13 Mar 2020

Words by David Jenkins

Directed by Alla Kovga

Starring Ashley Chen, Carolyn Brown, and John Cage

Two people in bodysuits with spotted patterns, performing a dynamic dance pose in an arid, desert-like setting.
Two people in bodysuits with spotted patterns, performing a dynamic dance pose in an arid, desert-like setting.
3

Anticipation.

Will they ever run out of artists to make documentaries about?

3

Enjoyment.

This one is worthwhile, even if the dance sequences are lost in the editing.

3

In Retrospect.

Seek out Tacita Dean’s Craneway Event for the Merce Cunningham hard stuff.

A scenic and idea-focused biog­ra­phy of one of dance’s true vision­ar­ies, Mer­ce Cunningham.

Were you to try and place dance on the spec­trum of mod­ern arts, you might think it would sit clos­est to the­atre, pos­si­bly of the more exper­i­men­tal vari­ety, with music just a lit­tle fur­ther over on the oth­er side. In the case of vaunt­ed chore­o­g­ra­ph­er Mer­ce Cun­ning­ham, who devised some 180 rou­tines in his 90 year lifes­pan, his work per­haps exists in that strange space between music and abstract visu­al art.

He seemed less inter­est­ed in such dance sta­ples as rhythm, emo­tion and con­ven­tion­al cohe­sion than he was cre­at­ing spec­ta­cles which act­ed as a show­case for both the body and the space the body inhab­its. His col­lab­o­ra­tors includ­ed Robert Rauschen­berg, Andy Warhol and Jasper Johns, with audio accom­pa­ni­ment from his part­ner, John Cage. The mal­leabil­i­ty and phys­i­cal poten­tial of the human form remain at the core of his project, and this can be viewed and under­stood in Alla Kovgan’s infor­ma­tive 3D doc­u­men­tary which skips through Cunningham’s career.

In between the archive footage and record­ings of an inter­view with Mer­ce him­self (focused on pick­ing apart the intel­lec­tu­al and philo­soph­i­cal aspects of the dances rather than deliv­er­ing tit­bits from his per­son­al life), we also get to see mod­ern inter­pre­ta­tions of var­i­ous events” filmed for gim­micky 3D effect. It’s an intrigu­ing con­cept for a doc­u­men­tary, espe­cial­ly in the way it empha­sis­es how a choreographer’s work is entrust­ed entire­ly to the dancer and thus changes as it is rein­ter­pret­ed and reframed in dif­fer­ent ways and by dif­fer­ent bod­ies. Yet for an artist who was so immersed in the pos­si­bil­i­ties of human move­ment, some of the cre­ative deci­sions here seem wild­ly out of synch with that essen­tial impulse.

The dance sequences are often filmed with an intru­sive, rov­ing cam­era which applies a wan­der­ing, sub­jec­tive focus, often leav­ing dancers out of the frame, or occa­sion­al­ly key parts of their body as well. In one sequence, a dancer is filmed from the tor­so up and we are left with the audio of the move­ments being made by her feet, which is a tad infu­ri­at­ing. Else­where, the archive footage is deployed in a frame and is over­laid with text, pho­tos and graph­ics. Here, the dancers are framed cor­rect­ly, but are too small to amply appreciate.

The artist Taci­ta Dean made an extra­or­di­nary doc­u­men­tary in 2009 called Craneway Event which, with­out any kind of voiceover or crass styl­is­tic inter­fer­ence, cap­tured a wheel­chair-bound Cun­ning­ham at the end of his life and in the messy jaws of cre­ation. Cun­ning­ham is a light starter, where­as Craneway Event is a hearty main course.

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