Diavolo's performance at Grand Park was delightfully simple. There were no big tricks and tumbles, no complicated dances, but the simple, gracefully executed moves were captivating nonetheless.
The dance crew appeared in identical bright blue body suits, and the movement intensified in tandem with the music. They began in simple formation along the part of the fountain you can walk through, and as the piece progressed, they danced all over the fountain, climbing to the top tier where a large fountain is operated with a blossoming water display.
The piece culminated in a jubilant explosion, with the water fountain bursting to the sounds of joyful mariachi music.
After the show, it was great to see children playing in the fountain - some of them dancing.
We learned about the dance troupe, Diavolo, through Steve Connell - a spoken word artist we saw last year in his two-man show, The Word Begins (co-written and performed with Sekou Andrews).
We enjoyed The Word Begins so much, that we saw it twice, and we were sold on any future projects Connell and/or Andrews participated in in the future. So we had been waiting for Diavolo's show for months with much anticipation.
It's difficult whenever you build up that much hype for yourself about something: you run the risk of being let down. But Diavolo's performance The Broad Stage far surpassed any expectations we could have had. Going to a Diavolo show is like seeing a stripped down version of Cirque du Soleil: excellent dancers/performers/athletes with no elaborate costumes, props, light, set changes, trapeze, etc. With Diavolo, you get a piece where beautiful movement interacts with an intricate architectural element, combining dance, gymnastics, and in the the case of Transit Space, spoken word.
Trajectoire
The first piece Diavolo opened with was Trajectorie, a piece that first debuted in the 90s. It's obvious why they still do it: not only does it show us tremendous feats of athleticism, but it also conveys a story of struggle. Of teamwork. Of the beauty and difficulty of a journey.
The architectural element in this piece looks like a boat that rocks back and forth. It gets turned 360 degrees, deconstructed and even stopped completely. The dancers perform around it, over it, below it, inside it. The movement is exciting, keeping you at the edge of their seat wondering what they're going to do next or how they can possibly top the previous trick. The piece plays with you, scares you, make you think the dancer might fall of the boat, or get caught below, or won't make their landing.
But the constant movement also renders the moments of silence - of stillness - beautiful and tender.
Transit Space
This piece aims to reflect Los Angeles, echoing Dogtown and its skater culture. To that end, the piece contains more props and moving pieces, such as skateboards with no wheels and a network of wooden and steel slides.
These slides get connected, separated. They become bridges, walls.
The spoken word aspect of it brings forth themes of discovery, journey, belonging, escaping, going home. Through its different voices, both male and female, it reflects the ethnographic diversity of the area and the shared conflicts between people and the sense of community. We see the dancers as lovers, friends, and neighbors, trying to find themselves while also reveling in the moment.
The piece itself moves like the slides, with highs and lows: movements of great intensity evolve into moments of stillness - pausing for reflection.
It's meaningful that both pieces are about journeys, both physical and internal ones, yet they're expressed in very different ways, through a variety of means. It's wonderful to note how much of that expression comes through movement along, how a single hand gesture can carry emotion that we struggle to articulate.
