Patience, please for Ruri Mito

Ruri Mito offers her North American premiere of "Where we were born" at PS/21 Center for Contemporary Performance in Chatham.

Ruri Mito drives in the slow lane. As seen on Saturday at PS/21 Center for Contemporary Performance -- this Japanese dancer and choreographer moves like molasses – at least that was the case with the two works that received their North American premieres -- a solo “Matou” and her group work “Where we were born.”
 
And because of the speed, or lack thereof, Mito’s observers must be curious. Otherwise, one can easily be lulled into a state of indifference or sleep.
 
The thing is, Mito doesn’t seek to entertain, which is something most American audiences prefer.  Rather she aims to take her viewers on a painstaking journey where bodies are sedated, but moving sculptures that emphasize effort – the muscular and tensile strength to raise an arm, to cock a head or curl an ankle.
 
It’s not for everybody but it does remind long-time contemporary dance spectators of other Japanese dancemakers, primarily the team of Eiko and Koma. They made their life’s work to move imperceptively. It would take this couple hours to move from point A to point B.
 
For a lot of people, that is agony. And Mito’s solo felt that way at first. In quiet, in a shoulder stand with just her back and buttock facing the audience, she did nothing what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, she sunk one hip to slide out of the shoulder stand to expose the top of her head, then an arm and then another arm. It was like watching a yoga class, an advanced one, in slow motion for 20 minutes.
 
The piece was meant to explore how the body constantly renews itself, but it offered more of a feeling that the body struggles to transcend and coordinate its seemingly disparate pieces to work as one, high-functioning, intelligent organ.  
 
The group work that followed, for eight dancers, was much the same. But in this case, with music by Chie Nakajima, “Where we were born” felt like a nucleus striving to support and uplift its DNA in a landscape that was untested. The music sounded like a humming, distant wind, threatening to topple the structure. At times their unity was challenged and interlocking arms and hands were pulled apart. In this way, Mito created some suspense and tension, enough to keep eyes and minds awake. But for the most part, this body stayed integrated as a single undulating creature.
 
In the end, the dancers landed where they started, essentially in a heap. It wasn’t an optimistic ending, as if Mito was saying that exploring outside the circle was dangerous.
 
Regardless, it is clear that Mito does have something to say. One just needs a ton of patience to see it.