photographed and written by CHRISTINA CAMPODONICO
I’m knocking my knee into my dance partner’s chest. He curves his torso up into a grandiose, Martha-Graham-letter “C,” as if I’m socking him in his sternum, again and again, like metronomic rhythm—punch, arc, punch, arc, punch, arc…
Though on stage, we’re in an imaginary world. We’re a boyfriend and a girlfriend, stranded on a hot desert road, boiling beneath a sweaty, Southwestern sun. Our car has broken down halfway to Rosarito, Mexico, and instead of seeking out help, we’re just duking it—couple’s therapy getting physical.
There’s something about a road trip that can make or break a relationship. This breakdown could be the final straw or a new beginning—at least that’s what our director told us at the time.
So what is it about long drives that makes them so transformative? This same question I asked myself a few years ago came to mind again as I watched Heidi Duckler’s “Parts and Labor, Redux,” a re-staging of the choreographer’s 1992 Cadillac dance, “Parts and Labor.”
This dance performance is the kind of car ride that gives away no definitive answers, but it does take us on a joy ride.
Americans have had a long love affair with their cars—or so says the charismatic car salesmen who attempts to sell us his wears (Mike Dunn). That sense of romance permeates Sci Arc’s parking lot on this desert cool, January night, as an almost arachnid-like black, sculptural contortion towers above the scene below.
A woman (Zoe Nelson), dressed in a royal blue jumpsuit emerges from the belly of a golden, 1970 Cadillac low-rider. Sitting in the driver’s seat, the woman adjusts the review mirror, presumably to focus her vision on the road behind her. But a more titillating subject comes to mind as she brings her finger to her lip, as if to smear on some more lipstick. Is it to replenish some gloss lost during a passionate kiss, or to pucker up for the man, who comfortably slumps in the passenger seat beside her (Chris Bordenave)?
But such clandestine matters of the heart soon unfurl into the open as another dancer (Teresa Barcelo) spills out of the passenger side and then another (Nick Heitzeberg) is discovered to be hiding in the Coup de Ville’s trunk.
A private getaway for two turns into a group venture, as the quartette of dancers jam on the car’s black vinyl top, then steal inside, shaking to the beat of a bumpy ride and psychedelic, Mozart-infused funk.
All the way, they’re accompanied by the percussive rhythms of Robert Fernandez and MB Gorby. Dressed as seasoned mechanics, they tap the car with their drumsticks, like doctors seeking out a pulse. And eventually they do find that elusive heartbeat, striking the Cadillac with the same fervor that the passengers show in their frenetic shakes and shivers.
The car itself cannot contain such excitement, however, so the dancers find release from the vehicular claustrophobia. Escaping from the Cadillac—like uncapped atoms—they manically swirl around the car, switching from passenger to driver side in frenzied games of Chinese fire drill.
Later on, we’re off to the races as the women wave checkered flags like racecar gals.
From start to finish, the Cadillac becomes all things to all people—a make-out spot for lovers, a shelter from a storm, a plaything and an instrument.
Maybe then a car is not so much a thing, but a transformative dream, bringing all who ride within it closer together—in love, in laughter, in fear, in fun—even as the mileage count increases and the destination—wherever it may be—nears.
& Extra
Heidi Duckler Dance Theatre’s “Parts and Labor Redux” performed on the parking lot behind Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions (LACE) on January 22 and 23rd. It visited the Southern California Institute of Architecture (Sci Arc) on January 24.