This is difficult to write. Not only because I don’t enjoy ripping apart a production, but because when it comes to a solo show it’s a very personal criticism, even more so when it applies to firmly held spiritual beliefs. However, it has to be said, matter of fact, there’s a great deal of pretension and very little genuine product in this unfortunately painful performance.
Ridade the free dancer promises an enthralling, personal tale of self-discovery. Apparently in touch with her past lives, Ridade professes clear insight into the possibility of enlightenment, advocating a life free of needless wants and values. To some reincarnation is a genuine spiritual belief and I’d rather not delve into the question here.
Beliefs aside, the concept of reliving past lives and benefiting from the experience of a multitude of personas is an interesting premise. If only there had been less insincere posturing and more genuine acting that could truly revive characters of the past, there might have been an engaging story here somewhere. Instead the text is delivered through dry and didactic monologues, through which Ridade seemed anxious and uncomfortable, shifting in her stance, revealing cracks in her grand and serene façade.
Snippets of past lives portrayed Ridade as a warrior, a merchant, and newly born girl growing up in a contemporary world, struggling to communicate. These recollections were expressed through dance, of a sort; needless arm waving; mechanical, clunky pirouettes; wooden, inelegant posing. There’s also some singing but I’d rather not talk about it. Besides the ineptitude of the performance, any sense of flow and concentration was lost as prolonged costume changes broke up the scenes with awkward gaps of silence in the darkness. These actually became a relief as the show progressed.
Ridade is trying to communicate the need for spiritual and internal calm, healing through positive energies, and letting go of greed, ego and the self-satisfied compulsion for success. Yet, for all her declarations, this solo performance reeks of hubris and a lack of genuine human feeling, self-questioning and essential communication with the audience. Not once in the monologues did Ridade address me, look me in the eye and express real belief in the words she preached. Instead her eyes glazed over the heads of the audience, cold, unconnected and unfeeling.
