REVIEWS Wallflower, Grupo Raiz Exciting

By Ann Bender

Generally speaking, there are not many politically sponsored artistic performances (other than campaign gimmicks), and there are even fewer American performances with a political orientation of preventing further U.S. intervention in Central American and Caribbean countries.

Nothing about Grupo Raiz, Wallflower Order br their performance at Cleveland State on November 18 was typical of an artistic event. Members of the audience might attend a politically motivated concert for several reasons-certainly to be entertained, sometimes in spite of (or regardless of) the politics. At the other end of the continuum are those who might attend in spite of the entertainment, but because of the political motivation; and, of course, there are those who, attend for a myriad of social reasons, perhaps ambivalent to both the political and artistic aspects of the performance. Regardless of their reasons, members of the audience brought with them a high degree of energy and excitement which was felt all through the auditorium even before the performance began. Fed by the performers, the energy and excitement remained and continued to ⚫ build throughout the concert.

Grupo Raiz created an unusual musical blend through their collection of multi-national songs of pain, acceptance, suffering, achievement and hope. From boisterous, full-bodied sound to haunting melodies, they smoothly shifted both sound and style. Just as the audience adapted to one kind of sound, Grupo Raiz would carry them to another time and place and offer something totally new, while never faltering from their primary purpose. Other differences included the members' ability effectively to exchange vocal and instrumental parts whenever it suited them, and the refreshing equality of the two women within the group. Their Chilean ballads had the most impact on me. They were beautifully written and arranged, and I understood the message despite the language barrier.

In support of the South American people's plight in general, and in sympathy for the situation in El Salvador in particular,. Wallflower Order joined Grupo Raiz for the second half of the performance. That Wallflower-Order conveyed messages was not unusual. It is almost impossible to leave any modern dance performance without feeling you've been told something, a basic ingredient which has, historically, set modern dance apart from other dance forms. There the similarity stopped. Wallflower Order conveys messages which can be, and are, different from other dance groups because there is no male imprint upon their work. Additionally, Wallflower Order is a women's dance collective. That in itself is different, but the real impact of this difference is felt through the process of collective choreography.

From such modern dance pioneers as Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham to more current established choreographers such as Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp, I usually feel a personality stamp on every piece, so that the choreographic style becomes recognizable. Collective choreography, on the other hand, is a much more difficult and time-consuming process which gives style recognition to the group as a whole rather than to any one person. Because of the personal investment of each dancer, there is a better chance of seeing a wider range of movement and a higher level of intensity through which a particular message can be conveyed. Instead of movements being structured and utilized through the self-image of the single choreographer, Wallflower Order's use of movement was restricted only by the strength, technical ability and creative input of each dancer. While their offerings included capable technical®

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skill and conveyed clear messages, those pieces which made a particular mark upon the audience and which I will not forget included Prison Poem, Wushu, and especially Endangered. Prison Poem made a

frightening yet memorable statement through excellent timing of both vocalization and movement. Wushu combined two dancers' raw strength and technical power in unusual movement patterns. As I watched movement boundaries being stretched, redefined and even ignored, I remembered the years of frustrating ballet training when I could only continue to try to master the prescribed repertoire of

“Arthur”:

steps included as appropriate for women dancers. Several times during Wushu, in particular, I could hardly stay seated, wanting to join in the joyous expression of freedom for women in dance.

Endangered was the most polished piece presented by the dance collective. The choreography, costuming and technical effects were professionally incorporated to give an opportunity for Grupo Raiz and Wallflower Order to combine talents and complement each other. Endangered flowed smoothly and its messages of human/political/environmental/ ecological conflict were subtly woven into the theme.

Pieces of Lies, a comment on the American socialization of women, while entertaining, seemed overstated and philosophically inappropriate as part of the evening's performance. However, I did not see the same reaction by others in the audience; perhaps they needed the change of pace.

One unfortunate result of these two groups working together was that they rarely seemed to become unified. Regardless of their single purpose, when the dancers were present, the musicians seemed to become overly concerned about being too conspicuous. The dancers seemed, at times, tentative on stage with the musicians. Separating the performance into half music and half dance did not help; in fact, it probably served to accentuate any existing discomfort between the groups.

Artistically, both groups offered a unique experience to their audience. Politically, there may be some question of their efforts having any actual impact on the events in El Salvador and other South American countries. However, at one point, when we, the audience, received reassurance that the South American people do not blame "us" for actions which continue to affect them by the government of a supposedly participatory democratic nation, it left me with something to ponder. That is a successful beginning.

'Arthur": Myths and Reality

By Edith Schwede

Feminists, it is posited, have no sense of humor. We're so touchy! We can't relax and laugh any more about things everyone else thinks are side-splittingly funny. I mean, it's all well and good to have a cause, but if you can't laugh, what's the use?

Have we lost our sense of humor? Speaking for myself—yeah, I guess I have. Not lost entirely, but narrowed considerably. Take the movie Arthur, for instance. I saw it last holiday weekend. I went with an open mind, knowing nothing about the plot. My sense of humor was ready to be engaged because I had virtuously spent the Thanksgiving weekend working on a research project and I was ready for something light and entertaining.

I laughed at some of the lines. I wasn't bored. The acting was fine, especially John Gielgud as Hobson, the acid-tongued butler. I wasn't laughing the morning after, however. Let me share with you some of the things that bothered me about Arthur. They revolve around how cultural myths are perpetuated through story-telling.

Dudley Moore plays an alcoholic, lovable playboy. He plays it perfectly. He does it so well, in fact, that it becomes easy to fall for the myth that getting drunk every day is playful and fun, that drinking releases in one the spontaneous child that refuses to grow up, and that this is charming and heartwarming. Arthur staggers around, laughing as he falls out of automobiles and crashes into furniture. And so we are conditioned again to view the things

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that drunken people do as hilariously funny.

All of us know an alcoholic. Some of us are spouses, children, or friends of alcoholics. Some of us are alcoholic. We all know something about alcoholism and we all know it isn't funny, at least not after the first few parties. We know that about 80 percent of fatal auto accidents involve drinking. It's hard to laugh as we see Arthur tooling through New York streets, foot heavy on the accelerator and mouth heavy on the bottle while he's driving. There is nothing comic about a severely disoriented man behind the wheel of a car, oblivious to his environment.

There's also nothing funny about a person who is oblivious to the needs and feelings of people around him. At restaurants and social gatherings, Arthur is noisy, disruptive, clumsy. He slurs his words and slurps his drinks. He is incapable of genuine interaction; those with him are offended and humiliated.

On the mornings after, the estimable butler Hobson has coffee, juice and aspirin ready for him. Our hero, however, is almost as bright and bouncy as he is when drunk. No morning-after symptoms: no vomiting, diarhhea, sick stomach. No self-hate, shame, terror at not being able to remember what he did the night before. Distillers of the world can rejoice that this movie reinforces their message that booze just makes you feel good, good, good.

So much for Arthur. What's this got to do with feminism?

Well, it's with Linda that I had problems. Linda,

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