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Unlocking Édouard >> Exaucé explores La La La's finer pointes by MARITES CARINO
People, and not bats, gradually glide into the studio. Cloaked underneath their copious winter layers lie the explosive bodies of the La La La powerhouse. In his trademark black leather jacket, Lock strides in, taller than I expected. Attempting to shake his hand, he retreats abruptly, waving his hands. "No, no, don't touch me, I'm contagious!" says the cold-infested choreographer. Handshake abandoned, we leave the dancers' rehearsal and migrate to Lock's sunny office to discuss his latest concoction, Exaucé, which debuts at Place des Arts this week. The work resulted from a six-week residency in Japan, and premiered there last fall. It features 10 dancers, film and a musical trio. "It's a piece that's kind of hard to understand, because its cause and effect really isn't clear," Lock explains. "There's something about non-functional movement that people don't understand in a culture that is so goal-driven." Although Exaucé uses pointe in a way that strays from its original use in classical ballet, Lock doesn't think he's doing anything new. "Dance has matured enough and is starting to develop different styles--to create in an absolute virgin way is almost impossible," he says. The pointe shoe was developed in the early 1800s and aimed to extend the line of the foot, making the dancers look lighter and aiding them to dance on their toes without support. "I think people link pointe to fragility and romanticism--it doesn't have to be used that way," Lock notes. And in this company, the female dancers on pointe are anything but fragile porcelain dolls. Their razor-sharp windmill spins, dives and gestures exude power and strength. Emitting this same force, but barefoot, is dynamo Louise Lecavalier, who has been with the company since its beginning almost 20 years ago. However, Lock admires those who have mastered the technique. "It's getting the balance down to such a fine point. There are people who have one hell of a control over their balance." Inevitably, Lock had to try his foot at it: "It was kind of impossible for me to resist. It's kind of fun for a while when you try it, but it just doesn't work because the foot feels wrong." Because the work focuses on the legs and feet of the dancers, the Exaucé posters feature a leg elongated by a funhouse mirror. "This was a wink at ballet aesthetics and highlighting the leg... but we overly did that!" Lock says laughing. He bears some responsibility for the exaggerated image: since 1983, he's been taking many of the company's publicity photos himself. As for the work's title, Lock explains that he wanted to evoke a "visual symbol of a residue of something that's left after the living thing is gone." And after dancers and musicians leave the stage, if Lock has done his job, the show's images will linger.
Exaucé at Théâtre Maisonneuve, PdA,
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"When you leave the studio please close all windows--birds and bats are flying in." This sign is the first thing I see when entering the deserted studio of La La La Human Steps. Casting a cautionary upward glance, I sit and wait for the company's artistic director, Édouard Lock.