Since working together 15 years ago, Molly Lieber and Eleanor Smith have done dances dealing with trauma – slow, tender, intimate portraits of women who are alternately innocent and knowing. Some were silent, others contained text; often Lieber and Smith played naked, but it was the kind of persistent nudity that made you forget they were naked. The way their bodies locked themselves into the same vibration, rhythm, or mood was more phenomenal than their physicality.
As fluid as her body is, the focus of her work has always been the excavation of an inner landscape that takes the objectification of women into account. In their latest “Gloria”, a dance of perseverance, Lieber and Smith dance vigorously to a pop song – extended cuts from the Laura Branigan hit – on the two lowest levels of the outdoor amphitheater in the Abrons Arts Center.
As an extremely feminist work, “Gloria” adopts the idea of female objectification and uses it like a weapon: What begins aerobic and lively – the dancers hop and hop with swinging arms and high knees – gradually turns into something more lascivious: legs widen. A playful jump descends in the top. The split turns into a sad, silent lament.
Seeing Dear and Smith (in person!) Felt a bit like a favorite band. They are still dancing together; They’re still as tight as ever. If anything, they are more grounded, more precise, and more precise. Sometimes their synergy is almost confusing. With a subtle touch, Lieber in a bathing suit and Smith in a mesh bodysuit – both wearing vintage shorts from the 80s – show how flexibility can overshadow strength or how the right combination of endurance and spirit can make a sexual moment seem sporty.
With increasing exhaustion, the lyrics of the song become stranger and more threatening: “You really don’t remember, was it something he said? Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria? “(I’m afraid I can’t get the song out of my head.)
The subtle shifts are creepy and even disturbing as Lieber and Smith twist themselves into images embedded in shadows of grief: Lieber flexes her chest in the crevices and throws her head and – in short – touches a chest. When a standing smith rounds over straight legs, she is doing something more than just graceful withering; it dissolves in itself. The setting changes over time as Thomas Dunn’s lighting changes from pink to ice blue. The temperature of “Gloria” changes from hot to cold.
But what really holds this world together is James Los’s gorgeous sound design that mixes chirping birds and rippling water with his reinvention of “Gloria”. In a moment it’s full and booming; in another case, it’s scratchy and low-fi – like it’s playing on a car radio three blocks away. In short, he overlays Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow” with the familiar texts: “I don’t have to dance, I make money.”
To be honest, I was initially confused about the decision to name a duet “Gloria”. The choreographer Maria Hassabi created an often seen duet with the same title in 2007. But that’s different. It cannot be a coincidence that Branigan’s “Gloria” was playing in the background as the Trump family and their inner circle – Kimberly Guilfoyle’s dance was particularly notable – gathered to watch the January 6 riot.
Towards the end, when dusk falls, the dancers find each other again – Lieber sinks to the floor and touches Smith’s hair, fluffing her curls before they both bend forward and touch her forehead. You made it to the other side. Her “Gloria” is about taking back the song. Her “Gloria” is strong, raw and so soulful that it almost bursts as it shows how powerful the language of dance is. It’s a new “glory” for the here and now.
Gloria
See you Saturday at the Abrons Arts Center, Manhattan; abronsartscenter.org.
