Dance theater speaks about the unspeakable.

The Görlitz Company makes a topic of what moves many spectators.

Sächsische Zeitung
Ines Eifler

Talking about dance theater, about the movements on stage, the impressions and associations is never easy. That's what the dance ensemble of the Gerhart Hauptmann Theater directly addresses in its latest production, which can be seen for the last time today in the Great Hall. "What you can't talk about" is the title. The program booklet begins with a sentence by famed dancer and choreographer Isadora Duncan: "If I could tell you what it means, there would be no need to dance it."

Like the previous production, "Wonderland," the current dance piece is full of color and beautiful sounds to which the dancers move with all the grace and expression possible to bodies. Musically, Dan Pelleg and Marko E. Weigert span the spectrum from Mignon's song "Kennst Du das Land" to waltzes, jazz piano and Arabic pop to the NDW cult song "Da Da Da". Frequently, sounds of nature such as birdcalls, jungle sounds, water splashing create special moods. And the two choreographers have included another sensory level this time: The scent of lemons and later of coffee wafts through the rows of spectators as a lemon tree, its fruit and, in a later scene, a laid coffee table can be seen.

The attraction of two people and the irritations that often accompany it are the one thing "you can't talk about". The loss of a person, the fear of it and the associated grief are the other. The piece tells in parallel about these relationships of two couples: one at the beginning, in the rapprochement, the other after a possibly violent separation, made clear by the search for "Felix", whom the dancer Naomi Gibson calls again and again fearfully. The unfolding of these two relationships is the central thread and anchor for all who are looking for a plot.

In between, there are always poetic, passionate and idiosyncratic passages about things that also "cannot be spoken of." These include the sadly despairing playing of dancer Joan Ferré Gómez with a black feather, as if in a nod to Swan Lake's darker side. There is the pleasure of mangling, of losing control and self-control, as lemons that initially exuded delicate fragrance are peeled with the teeth, crushed and eaten without restraint. Amit Abend and dancer Seung-Hwan Lee dance an impressive piece in which they seem to transform into puppets, guided beings with melting bones. The solos of Nora Hageneier or Rafail Boumpoucheropoulos, whose character in an oppressive choreography tells of violence and borders through walls and stones, are also very touching episodes.

In three film sequences, Marko E. Weigert, Nora Hageneier and Naomi Gibson talk about how much one can learn in theory about food, music or dance, but how little of it is necessary to be able to enjoy these things. Since this season, the dance ensemble has also invited the audience to speak. Not after the premieres, because the exhaustion after the tension is too great, but after all other performances. Once the applause has died down, the audience can stay in the hall until the dancers return to the stage and ask questions. Often audience members ask for explanations of the plot. And the ensemble's answers always open up the great space for everyone to make up their own minds and trust their sensations and associations.