OK, it was a brief quest to lead a more cultured life, but it was quite an interesting experiment. Apparently, Steve got some free tickets to a "dance" show at the university. Rather than tell me about it, he decided to make it a surprise and refused to tell me what our Friday night plans were until we actually got there. When I arrived in jeans and an old sweatshirt and saw the other guests in dresses and ties, I knew this was a bad idea. Poor CT had no idea the torture he was about to endure.
We made it to our balcony seats and settled in. The program listed 5 dance numbers and described how this 100-year old dancer had started this dance company and choreographed the dances we were about to see. I was expecting some sort of musical or tap dancing of some type. Those are bad enough, but none of us were prepared for the show at hand. Each dance had a little story that went along with it. I think the first one was something about a lady stuck in a labyrinth battling a monster, but it turns out to be just in her head. You can see how bad this could get. Anyway, when the performance started I had a small amount of hope that it could be ok. For the first 5 to 10 minutes CT actually watched and studied the dancers. I could tell he was really concentrating and focusing. Finally, he turned to me and whispered "Mom, I don't get it. What are they doing?" I think PK and I were asking ourselves the very same question. It wasn't dance at all. The stage was blank with no background and only a few meager props...something that looked like metal V sticking up out of the floor and a white string winding its way across the stage. The "dancers" (and I use the term very loosely) were stomping around making strange faces. The male dancer (I think he was supposed to be the monster) held a large stick above his head as he galumphed around. This went on for at least 20 minutes. I swear there was no talent involved at all unless you count my own uncanny aptitude for holding in my giggles so I wouldn't make a scene. Still, we did not give up. Maybe the second number would be better. It was supposed to be about love...a ballet perhaps. I was so wrong. This time, all the props were removed and it was a totally blank space. When the curtain opened with a male and female dancer posed together on the stage, CT said "Mom, he's naked!" in a not-so-quiet whisper of shock. In fact, he was not naked, but had on very disturbing flesh-colored tights and no shirt. CT was mortified. We endured another 20 or 30 minutes of weird gestures and more tromping around the stage. Finally, mercifully, intermission came. We snuck out discreetly and agreed that this would be our last attempt at civilized culture for quite a while. We'll stick to more meaningful entertainment pursuits...like watching bowling on ESPN or taking in the beauty of the goldfish swimming around the filthy tanks at Wal-Mart.
dance, performance, culture, weird, art