by Since the death of Pina Bausch 15 years ago, the peerless German choreographer’s company Tanztheater Wuppertal has been plagued with speculation about its future. The permanent question is not only how to keep the flame of her irrepressible theater burning but how to overcome the art of revival (no matter how carefully it is given) and push forward, combining her singular vision with that of new choreographers .
Most of Bausch’s 50-odd creations are strong enough to escape categorization as museum pieces anyway. But Boris Charmatz, who heads the company since 2022, has treated his 1978 masterpiece, Café Müller, to a bold new work that delivers and deconstructs the 45-minute piece. Charmatz’s adventurous framework for Forever honors the spirit of her sprawling later works while satisfying the Avignon festival’s desire for epic theatre. Over a period of seven hours, Café Müller is presented six times, by changing projection, with half-hours in between allowing the dancers to offer their memories of Bausch, present isolated segments of his choreography, and share new movement material. Viewers are invited to watch from the beginning or join in at three later time slots.
The audience lines the walls of a huge performance space, initially empty, where Tsai-Chin Yu emerges alone as Bausch’s enigmatic somnambulist figure: arms outstretched, palms upturned, eyes closed. We hear her breathing and she hums a few notes from Purcell’s Dido’s Lament. It is the first subtle impression of the pauses and gestures that appeal to the piece.
The floor fills with activity as dancers emerge en masse, carrying brasserie chairs and round tables, adding to the ritual precision of waiter service. Wuppertal’s characteristic age range is on stage; double-breasted suits are worn but so is sportswear. Plunge into darkness, then a dozen criss-crossed strip lights shine above, and Bausch’s endurance carousel with Naomi Brito and Letizia Galloni begins to splutter and sleep through the furniture maze, suppliant yet dangerous chairs, scurrying from their paths. fear, care or both.
Bausch’s pieces are marked by an obvious cruelty, sometimes employed by the large figures of Michael Strecker. Here, he is cast as the mysterious loner taking one partner (Galloni) into the arms of another (Simon Le Borgne) only for her to fall to the floor, and the routine repeated, faster and faster. Is it fixing the couple’s relationship or straining it? Is she being brought down, as in Dido’s libretto, by this grim conqueror – only to wake her up and cling tightly to her lover?
The complexity and universality of these distressing encounters progress with each new team. The scene where a man and a woman take turns hitting each other into a wall is heightened in the later performances by the stain left behind by the hands of the previous dancers. Bausch was drawn into unbreakable cycles of behavior – there is no suggestion of a solution even after six performances of Café Müller, let alone one.
The horror is spiked with humor without a beat, provided in the part initiated by Nazareth Panadero who shares that role with others here. In a tender interlude, recalling the creation of Café Müller, Panadero reflects on the red wig, lipstick and heels required, walking us through the part – literally so, as she embraces her trademark skittishness. The character’s persuasive attempt to be a kisser is also made great with a sweet tune from Tsai-Wei Tien in the third version of Café Müller.
Héléna Pikon played the role of Bausch at Sadler’s Wells when the choreographer fell ill in 2008 – the last time Café Müller was performed in London – and she repeats it here in the fourth telling, alongside Charmatz. In the first of the interludes, Charmatz combines the role of Strecker with that of director, placing a dancer in the hands of the other, judging the effect. It’s like we go into their exercises. Elsewhere in these fragments, another original performer from 1978, Jean-Laurent Sasportes, finds a connection only with the chairs. Frank Willens, who joined the company last year, steps out of the audience to discuss the business of taking over a part from another dancer.
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One row of seats on the stage offers proximity to the dancers whose personal revelations and reflections are similar to those in Wim Wenders’ 2011 film tribute to Bausch but which also matches the intimate tone of her more text-heavy works. Also in the mix here is the libretto from Purcell’s The Fairy-Queen, sweetly sung live by Julien Ferranti, and a narrative text about Bausch by Hervé Guibert when he was a journalist for Le Monde – a generous appreciation of the role of the critic with festival pool. where, this year, Angélica Liddell made headlines for reviewing lambs during her performance.
Bausch’s original has concentrated power and Charmatz’s concept risks being diluted but the cumulative effect, even when the new material is temporarily released between them, grows very emotional. This establishment will always be owned by Bausch but Charmatz has transformed Café Müller into a meeting place for old friends and new faces, offering an exciting inventory of the company’s past and future.
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At La FabricA, Avignon, until July 21. Tanztheater Wuppertal provided Chris Wiegand’s tour.
