Ivanova (2003b:6) sees the ensemble choreographer’s role as the ‘mediator between the traditional image of the dance and its stage variant’, or to put it another way, I would consider they maintain the interdependence between the local cultural aesthetics and the performance aesthetics as they take existing (local) material and arrange it for stage presentation rather than, as in art dance genres, creating from a blank sheet bounded only by rules of the dance genre in question. Nahachewsky (2012:152) acknowledges the dichotomy that the ensemble choreographer can be recognised either as the ‘person who arranges traditional material’, or ‘as an artist’. I do not have space here to explore the debate between choreography as a work of creative art and the role of the choreographer in preparing presentational performances of local or regional dance. I would just say that if we view the role of choreographer as a mediator we implicitly bestow upon him a sense of ‘responsibility’ to the material he uses and that can involve maintaining a delicate balance between retaining continuity with the local source or, borrowing from MacCannell (1973:595), producing a ‘staged authenticity’ that presents local dance ‘as a contemporaneous phenomenon rather than as a museum piece’ (Bakka, 1999:79, also see Mellish, 2009).
Shay (2002:39) in his seminal work ‘Choreographing Politics’ acknowledges the ‘unique artistic vision’ of the artistic directors or choreographers of the ensembles that he studied, where he said that there is often ‘one individual who is responsible for the entire choreographic creation of the company’ who frequently understate their own contribution because of the ‘tension between the traditional elements and their own individual, highly personal choreographic and aesthetic vision’. Bendix commented on how scholars do not always recognise the ‘all-important role organizers or performers play in the maintenance and alteration of cultural facts’ (Bendix, 1989:137), due to a tendency, deriving from the ‘folkloristic’ viewpoint, to ignore the role of the individual choreographer in the creation of staged folk dance choreography in favour of the romantic view of the unknown origins of folklore. As Kealiinohomoku (2001 (1969):35) said many years ago ‘[u]nless the non-Western performer has made a “hit” on our stages, we seldom bother to give him a name in the captions, even though he might be considered a fine artist among his peers’. In Romania, although the name of the ensemble choreographer is always mentioned by the presenter at a cultural performance, as previously discussed they seldom appear on the stage, in most cases preferring to remain within the back region.
Snapshot: a new choreography – first steps
One evening in June 2010, when I arrived at rehearsal it was suggested that I should go upstairs to the choreographer’s office as they were ‘trying something new up there’. Upstairs I found two couples dancing to Toma singing the tune of a fast De doi (practicing new figures). One of Timişul’s lead saxophones players was there. When the dancers stopped he made some suggestions about suitable tunes from the correct ethnographic zone and some discussion on the various options followed. After several times through the new sequences the smaller group returned downstairs to join the main rehearsal, and Toma called the ensemble to order to start practicing his new work.
In Banat, the performance aesthetic focuses on synchronised movement of the pairs of dancers, giving the visual impact of a mass of dancers in perfect unison. This emphasis on synchrony of movement and homogeneity, and the ‘integration of the individual into the group’ (Giurchescu, 2001:116), was characteristic in staged choreographies of Romanian dance from the late 1960s when there was a turn away from the more theatrical Moiseyev models of choreographic styling (see Appendix F), to an arrangement of specific local dances in a presentational manner that was closer to the way that these dances were done in a social setting. The choreographic strategy of stringing together a number of local dances into a ‘suite’ is termed as the ‘first’ (or least elaborate) choreographic principle by Nahachewsky (2012:193). This style of
choreography was similar to that used by choreographers in the former Yugoslavia in this period. Sremac (2009:104) commented that, at this time, the repertoire of Lado (Croatia), ‘choreographic intervention is most frequently oriented towards the creation of connective tissue between the individual dance elements and the dances’ and ‘the dance and spatial elements, the music and its interpretation (the style elements) remain close or identical to the original forms and their essence’. The synchronising of movement, common in Banat social dance can be smoothly adopted into presentational dancing with minimal choreographic arrangement. The ‘macro’ view for the outsiders in the audience is synchrony of movement, but the insiders can recognise the style nuances of individual dancers that are within the cultural norms of local ‘Banat dance’.
The majority of the choreographies in Timişul’s repertoire were created by Toma and have remained largely unchanged over the years with evolution in the minor details of their performance. His personal choreographic style involves a more complex development of the first choreographic principle and comprises an arrangement of a sequence of dances which originated in Banat villages, with patterning introduced to move around the stage, performed with the musical accompaniment gradually stepping up in tension throughout the suite. Lăiţă uses a similar style to Toma, although they both have their own vocabulary of dances local to their birth villages. For both of their choreographies the music and the dance figures fit together so the dancers can move seamlessly from one position to another, performing more and more complex motifs as the choreography progresses and as it moves to a climax the musical accompaniment becomes faster and faster, yet the dance style remains graceful and smooth. Their arrangement of dancers on stage, and ways of moving round the performance space, merge the dances into one continuous flow, but without losing the individual differentiation between them. One of the strengths of Toma’s and Lăiţă’s choreographic strategies involves the use of the music in connection with the dance building up to a climax at the end of the suite. Over time the tempo of Banat dances, especially De Doi has increased (see Giurchescu and Bloland, 1995:265) and the musical instrumentation has changed from the melodies being played on violin to the emphasis being woodwind, and the choreographic styling has responded to this change, although some consider that the older (pre-1970s) choreographies were more graceful.
A few weeks before the evening mentioned above I had asked Toma whether he would be introducing a new choreography for Timişul’s gala performance at that year’s Festivalul Inimilor (see Chapter 7). Toma had replied ‘yes’, and explained to me that this would be a new type of choreography that he termed as a choreographic ‘moment’. He also explained to me that in a ‘moment’ the dance and song is the main
element of performance as opposed to acting, which sets this choreographic strategy apart from the classic Moiseyev ‘subject choreographies’ which centre around play acting. Toma elaborated on this by telling me that this ‘moment’ would include Andreea Voica, one of the most highly regarded Banat singers who regularly collaborates with Timişul, and would incorporate short portrayals of several customs from a specific ethnographic zone in Banat that would be interwoven by using a mixture of dances in an open circle and faster dances in couples. The custom portrayals that he planned to include on this occasion were a depiction of the Sunday village Hora (see Appendix E), the celebration of a young man leaving for the army and a custom for the remembrance of the dead.
Toma considers these ‘moments’ as new choreographies, but how can this be so when the dancers had told me that they had not learned a new choreography since 2005? Over time I came to realise that in the Timişoara choreographer’s eyes, their idea of a new choreography was a different combination of the dances, or the figures within a choreography that the ensemble already performed or maybe a readjustment of the positioning on the stage. This can be understood in connection with Toma’s comment that ‘good dancers learn a new choreography in two days as it follows “a pattern”, the figures and dances include normal things for Banat’. I asked members of the present main group of Timişul if they minded dancing (repeating) the same choreographies for many years. Some of them told me that they would like to learn more complicated dances, and a greater variety of motifs, and that, although they have around fourteen dance suites in their repertoire covering all regions of Romania they mainly danced five suites from the various ethnographic sub zones of Banat. In Timişul the dancers constantly change but the choreographies remain (more or less) the same. This can be viewed as one way to achieve continuity. In Doina Timişului the dancers change as the intakes of student finish their courses and the choreographies change gradually, but still some of old choreographers remain. Ivanova commented that the changes in 1989 did not have an ‘impact on the status quo of the repertoire’ in Bulgarian ensembles (Ivanova, 2002:3), this is seen, in both Timişul and Doina Timişului where the choreographies from regions of Romania outside of Banat have remained unchanged for years. This contrasts to professional ensembles where the dancers stay the same for many years, especially since the retirement age for professional dancers throughout Eastern Europe has been increased from 40 (women) and 45 (men) to 50 and 55 respectively, whilst, the choreographies change regularly. This is because, as one choreographer told me, ‘professional dancers rehearse daily so can learn more complex choreographies’. Thus in general, the professional ensembles have a larger and more continually varying repertoire (this is one of the conditions of their continued funding).
Snapshot: the new choreographic ‘moment’ in the rehearsal
Returning to the rehearsals for the new ‘moment’ choreography, downstairs in the main hall Toma organised the dancers into their positions. The repetition of the new choreographic arrangement was done in sections. The choreography commenced with the enactment of the Sunday village Hora with the men coming on from the stage sides, greeting each other, then stand chatting in groups on centre stage as they would have done in the village square, as part of the choreography, meanwhile (to my amusement) the girls, in their offstage positions, were standing in groups chatting just as they would also do at village Hora, but not part of performance! The men started by dancing Brâul batrân (see Appendix E) moving in an open circle round the stage, after a while the girls joined in between the men. After several circuits of the stage, the music changed into a Hora as the singer, Andreea Voica, took up her position in the centre of the circle and started to sing while the dancers danced behind her provided ‘moving scenery’ (Image 22) as is commonly seen during folk television broadcasts (see Chapter 8). The song finished, Andreea left the stage, and the choreography moved into the next ethnographic ‘moment’, a young girl is welcomed into the dance and a young man is called to dance with her (Image 23). Throughout Toma was giving directions even when his mobile phone rang and he took the call, talking against the volume of the loud music. Then the second moment, portraying the widow coming back into the dance after a year of mourning, with her parents being played by Lăiţă and Duşa. Toma called ‘stop’ whist the lead saxophonist checked the repeats of the music with him. Toma signalled for the dancing to restart. Then the four couples who were practicing upstairs moved forwards to take centre stage and danced a fast sequence of De doi with the rest of the dancers dancing in an open circle behind them, the music became faster and faster until the last bar was reached and the dancers took up their final positions (see Appendix G YouTube link 2)
Image 23. A man is called to dance as a girl is welcomed into the dance (2011)
This snapshot gives some insight into the process of creation of a new choreography and on this occasion I found it interesting to observe that only the older members of Timişul were comfortable with the acting parts of the choreography with the younger members appearing rather self-conscious and unsure what to do. Much of the material was already familiar to the dancers, but the precise order of the elements, the stage entrances and exits, the co-ordination with the singers and the precise ethnographic ‘snapshots’ included in the ‘moment’ were new, as were the complex De doi figures. Of the various depictions that I have seen, from my own, and from the audience reaction, the favourite was the wedding ‘moment’ in 2011, that focused around various elements from local wedding customs including the arrival of the wedding party at the bride’s house, the bargaining for the bride at the house entrance and the procurement of the ‘false bride’ (Sandu, an ex-Timişul dancer, beautifully dressed-up as a woman (Image 24)) who was swiftly rejected, then eventually the ‘right’ bride came out and joined the wedding party. As Toma predicted the dancers learn these new choreographies during a minimal number of rehearsals. Once they have formed a mental picture of the layout, and the sequence of the elements, they only need a sufficient number of repetitions until their ‘body understands’ and ‘they can execute the steps’ with precision (Wulff, 1998:103).
Image 24. The ‘false bride’ beautifully dressed-up as a woman (2011)