Choreographer Neil Ieremia took the stage in the Ted Shawn Theater at Jacob’s Pillow and issued the first of many surprises as he spoke for several minutes in Maori.
His language was musical, fluent, and gestural, as he obviously expressed his gratitude to the Festival for inviting his company to perform for a third time. Switching to fluent English without a pause, he said, “I welcome you in the spirit of humility,” by “the first nations of this land.”
Acknowledging Jacob’s Pillow’s honoring of the Native American peoples and their elders who first inhabited this particular land and the Pillow’s distinguished previous director Ella Baff, who was in the audience, he described the first dance, Minoi, choreographed in 1999, which had been previously presented at the Pillow by Ella Baff and is now reprised by request of her successor Pamela Tatge.
Ieremia promised to return to the stage after its performance to introduce his second dance, Fatu (2002) as well as the final work in the program, the world premiere of Life, commissioned by several American dance companies, and performed here for the first time.
The company’s home is in New Zealand, or by its preferred name, “Aotearoa”, which means “land of the long white cloud” in Maori. Ieremia’s parents brought him there from Samoa as a youngster. As a child burdened by a chronic illness, he couldn’t participate in the typical sports that obsessed local boys. His interests focused on art and, propelled by his parent’s interest in English culture and the sense of community in their church, he became deeply immersed in traditional and Christian religious observance.
There is a vital cultural connection between religious observance and community solidarity in Samoa. As described by Rev. Featunai Ben Liua’ana, Lecturer in Pacific History at Malua Theological College and pastor of the Congregational Christian Church in Samoa, in a 2008 interview:
Communalism, a key value in Samoan culture, may also contribute to the image of ‘inauthentic religiosity.’ In a place where family is revered highly and individualism is looked down upon, people will often act in certain ways to fulfill their duty to their family or community. As Reverend Featunai Ben Liua’ana points out, in Samoa, “being religious is about solidarity. It’s about being in a community.” Even those who don’t feel religious will go to church and try to uphold the semblance of ‘being religious’ for the sake of their community. “Being religious in Samoa doesn’t necessarily mean perfection, but it does mean wholeness…The community has to think the circle isn’t broken.” Thus, “Sometimes it doesn’t even matter if you go every Sunday and aren’t committed…that’s part of being religious in Samoa.”
This evening reflected these engagements and conflicts, as artfully summarized by Apollinaire Scherr, in her review in Financial Times, October 31, 2019, of a New York performance by Black Grace:
“Its belated return justifies that early bedazzlement. Director-choreographer Neil Ieremia roughs up central European contemporary dance (as it well deserves) by rooting it in Pacific Islander traditions.
“The steps demonstrate the indigenous form’s vibrancy; the dramas suggest what happens when native culture—and native lives—are shunted to the side. The smartly assembled, emotionally vast show begins with a suite of ancestral Samoan dances that Ieremia has not so much amplified and cleaned up—the usual procedure by which ritual becomes theatre—as intensified. Accompanied by their own body slaps and yelps as well as Isitolo Alesana’s alternately gross- and fine-grained drumming, a wedge of 10 dancers shift lines, hypnotizing us with the rhythmic patterns of their scything limbs.
“Ritual persists in the dance’s drawing us into its warp and woof. Meanwhile, knots in the design exhilarate, such as when four men throw their arms over each other’s shoulders to kick their legs and toss their heads with the swagger and bounce of a hip-hop shuffle.”
Minoi (1999)
When Ieremia was thinking of the song, Minoi Minoi, which is projected in various forms in this dance, he recalled that it’s the Samoan childhood equivalent of the theme from Sesame Street.
As the curtain rose, three male dancers in darkness vocalized the song, first in unison, and then in quiet, modal, three-part harmonizing.
Immediately after this contemplative beginning, three more dancers joined the trio and there commenced an astounding sequence of fast, layered counter-rhythms, composed of singing and then shouting fragments of the numerical sequence of numbers between one and ten, which were exclaimed from one to nine with forceful downbeats on 1, 2, 3, 4, 5; and 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, along with vigorous stomps, claps, and thigh slaps by the dancers, as well as shouted Samoan greetings and exclamations. A child’s colonial rote arithmetic class was thus transformed into a splendid send-up.
The traditional Samoan dance, Fa’ataupati, or Slap Dance is the foundation for Minoi. Here, however, we were taken beyond the village to a stage in one of many national dance festivals in contemporary Aotearoa. Integrating gestures and floor work from modern dance, and energized by devastatingly swinging, jazz-inflected rhythms, and dramatic lighting effects, the performers were pushed into the creative exploration of a vast stage. The hall was filled with delicious sound and gasps from the audience.
Wearing shiny black sarongs, leaping individually and in close formation, bodies joined in the air, twisted, and rolled in geometrical formations. In the end, they kneeled with their torsos bent forward in a gesture of respect to the audience, to a unison shout of “Hey!!” They never seemed to tire from minutes on minutes of explosive athleticism.
No wonder that Pamela Tatge wanted to see this dance for herself! And plaudits to Neil Ieremia for—as he put it—finding the particular dancers who recalled his old choreography, especially for this very appearance.
Fatu (2022)
The distinguished painter and sculptor Fatu Akelei Feu’u is a longstanding personal friend of Neil Ieremia. His work inspired this dance. His first name, Ieremia noted, means “heart” in Samoan. During one of the national COVID lockdowns, Fatu sent him some gems of poetry, which in turn inspired him to include “grand red and white sweeping swirls” in the dancers’ costumes. Another old friend from his childhood, the drummer, Isatolo Alesana, also played an important role in its conceptualization.
The dancers, Demi-Jo Manolo, James Wasmer, and Rodney Tyrell, performed to three different rhythms, with Isatolo Alesana at stage left, employing a large horizontal tom-tom with a pedal operated by his right foot, a rectangular box with metal sounding elements on his lap, tapped and shaken with his right hand, and two timbales on a rectangular box struck with a drumstick in his left hand. His conjuring rhythmic and sonic variations with impressive virtuosity, creating layers of shadings and subtle beats, elevated the dancers, whose gestures of joy, devotion, and respect for the earth, the sky, and one another were expressed with gorgeous synchrony and spirited, high-energy extensions.
The hall was filled with Alesana’s expressive drumming, inspired in part by the group Te Vaka, in this recorded, energetic performance of Magalogolo.
O Le Olaga – Life (2022)
Neil Ieremia’s own words describe the memories and emotions that drive this work:
“As I watch my parents transform with age, my appreciation for them and their
journey through life grows.
“O Le Olaga – Life, is a tribute to my parents and ultimately a celebration of life. Like my parents, I am a survivor from a place where cultures collide, and it is through this lens that I am inspired to collect and reorganize elements of beauty, rhythm, and color.
“Set to Antonio Vivaldi’s Gloria in D Major, the dance is made from my memories influenced by the traditional beat of my parents’ beloved Samoa while navigating the tidal shifts of time and space.
“The beautiful explosion of color and pattern in my mother’s dresses,, the pride with which my father exposes his traditional tattoo that covers his skin from below his knees to his ribcage when he dances, the murmuring of their nightly prayers, and the cracking of their combined voice as they lift their hearts in traditional hymns of praise.
“It is these and many other images that serve as creative inspiration.”
(Quotations from Jacob’s Pillow’s Program Notes)
His inspiration is set to dramatically contrasting, musical performances, a gentle pop vocal quartet singing a sweet tune with Hawaiian guitars, Mala a’e le afiaafi, and a choral and orchestral recording of the 12 movements of Vivaldi’s c. 1715 composition, Gloria, by the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, and the Academy of Ancient Music, conducted by Sir Stephen Cleobury.
Musicologist Jane Jones describes the structure of the Vivaldi Gloria:
“The Gloria itself is a joyful hymn of praise and worship divided into 12 relatively brief movements, ranging from festive brilliance to profound sadness. Yet it’s a mark of Vivaldi’s skill that the work overall maintains a cohesive structure.
“He prepares us from the very beginning, with the distinctive opening chorus, yet within minutes we’re deep in meditation with the second poignant movement ‘Et in terra pax hominibus’. From lilting soprano solos to solemn choral singing with duets and four-part harmonies, this really is a masterclass in choral writing.
“But Vivaldi, always the great instrumentalist, doesn’t forget his musicians. There are opportunities for tender, lovely countermelodies played variously by the violin or the oboe.
“The finale brings the work together in a vivid but effective composite of all we’ve heard before. Vivaldi has thrown in music which feels part concerto, part opera – but the effect is one of sacred music’s most uplifting choral works.”
Memories are brought to life in the context of Vivaldi’s interpretation of Christ’s resurrection, where, through a veil of memory, a family is reassembled, with an animated adult figure and smaller individuals, first stationary and then playful.
As a robed figure plays a traditional Maori game with two balls—like larger tennis balls—attached to strings. In the air and in collision with the arms and torso, the balls emit clouds of chalk dust, a vision of childhood through the cloud of memory. In the foreground lay still three deceased community members, over whom crouches a man with a wooden stick, who through the dance, authoritatively shepherds and occasionally dominates over the dancers. His pose here suggests a frightening military figure, perhaps symbolizing the colonial forces that impelled Ieremia’s parents to depart from Samoa for a life in the British colony of Aotearoa.
The propulsive rhythms of the Gloria and its mournful lyric—sung by a countertenor—propel their dynamic engagement and the mixed feelings of their recollections.
Just as Iremia’s father danced, proudly displaying the tattoos that begin below his knees, so does Jasmine Leota show hers in a touching gestural dance with hand and finger movements that suggest classical Pacific Island expressions of adoration, devotion, and spiritual connection.
Referring explicitly to Iremia’s mother’s devoted care to his father in his declining state as old age overtakes him, first one, then several male dancers are assisted to stand and walk, embraced, and gently carried by females. All are clothed in cotton garments with muted, printed colors. A circle of caring surrounds a man whose eyes are closed, lying on the floor before his grieving family.
To Vivaldi’s music, conducted at an andante (walking) pace, their processions and controlled floor work are intense, sinuous, and vivid.
A scene of persecution dominates the penultimate scene. As the Christ figure, danced affectingly by Aisea Latu, is beset by people threatening him with long sticks that they tap ominously on the stage, he cries in anguish.
Then, to Vivaldi’s exultative Gloria in Excelsis Deo, he is transfigured. He walks forward, with the troupe behind him, and approaches the audience, arms open and begins the troupe’s bows.
A standing ovation follows, befitting the inspired performance and its messages of cultural pride and the transformational power of love and care.
