The cathedral-like monumentality of Tate Modern's Turbine Hall is a spot-on setting for Michael Clark, the British dance-maker whose choreography gets more subversively hieratical as the years roll by.
For long dubbed the bad boy of British ballet, the 50ish Clark has created a new work for the Tate's holy of holies, and its processional, pageant-like allure is accentuated by the costumes of episcopal red, white and silver. Clark also
includes 48 untrained members of the public whose black draped costumes remind you of priestly day-wear.
Clark stacks his religious references high to trigger their associations and thereby give his work the subversive appeal we none-too-secretly enjoy, even as we bemoan its having been rather recycled and not all-new as the programme promises.
Talking of the programme, who writes this stuff?
The two-page photocopy has no dancer biographies, nothing on the lighting or costume designers, and no background on the amateur performers who have endearingly uneven abilities. Instead there's a half page of theorising that drones drearily on about "creating a unique sense of totality that exceeds the possibilities of the theatre stage's picture view". It also talks of the "complex history that underlies mass choreography" but doesn't explain what it is or how Clark parries it.
The cryptically named Th is an in-the-round, or in-the-oblong piece occupying all of the easterly end of the Turbine Hall. The audience are located on low banked seating which takes you close to the dancers but provides an only so-so view unless you sit on the top tier. The production has a stylish, monochromatic design by Stevie Smith and Clark himself, and the music is a selection of Pulp, Kraftwerk and David Bowie, of whom there is vintage film in Marcel Marceau mode. The 48 amateurs open the piece with simple routines in lines and chevrons, after which the 13 professionals arrive - one pleasingly pregnant-- and perform Clark's signature moves that splice ballet's classical formality and the rigidities of Scottish dancing with a mildly S&M mood. Clark himself puts in his usual cameo.
The result is a visually striking and, excepting the lag in the middle, a compelling show, albeit a rather self-conscious one.
Until June 12 (020 7887 8888, tickets.tate.org.uk)
Michael Clark Company At Tate Modern: Part II: A New Commission
Tate Modern
Bankside, Holland Street, SE1 9TG
