In This Case, Seeing Is Believing.. Grupo Corpo at the Kennedy Center by Ashayla Byrd

In This Case, Seeing Is Believing 

By Ashayla Byrd (she/they) 

Friday, March 1, 2024, 7:30 p.m.

The Kennedy Center Opera House

Sometimes it’s just better to go in blind. For me, there’s a certain beauty that comes with walking into a dance experience with little to no preconceived notions or expectations for what I’m about to witness. I know–from the fundamental practice of reading my program before the show–that Grupo Corpo is a formidable Brazilian dance company sure to fuse worlds of movement I’ve met in varying degrees: Brazilian, modern, ballet, and contemporary dance. Dreamt up and spearheaded by Paulo and Rodrigo Pederneiras, the evening of movement boasts two “kinetic, spectacular works,” two celebrations of movement, fusion, music, and bodies connecting through space and time. I will believe it when I see it. 

The stark wash of white lighting across the stage is brightened further by the presence of femme-presenting dancers dressed in crisp white button-downs and roomy shorts draped over their sinewy bodies. The masculine-presenting dancers wear the same white button-downs, but this time, with white, loose pants to match. The full company wears dark brown hard shoes on their feet, punctuating each rhythmic step they take. The soundscore provided by Gilberto Gil’s drums and guitar colors the space with a sense of playfulness. The buoyancy of the dancers’ leaps and the intricate quickness of their footwork are reminiscent of the acquired taste of the petit allegro portion in any standard ballet class. Rather than maintaining the often unyielding upper body carriage that ballet demands, the dancers’ spines billow, expand, and contract with refreshing pliability. 

I, for one, could never make it through petit allegro without rubbing my calves and massaging my feet between combinations that seemed like they would never end. And then the combinations would be reversed, of all things. 

These dancers move with a boundless, uninhibited flair that carries them across the vast expanse of a somewhat bare stage. Somewhat bare. A rustic, otherwise indiscernible image is projected onto the back wall of the stage. My first guess is something woodland. As the images morph at a painfully slow rate, I continuously wonder: are they plants? Fungi? Trees? Roots? Something is shifting, growing. The image continues to slowly evolve, juxtaposed against the animated flexibility and athleticism of the dancers weaving in and out of each other’s pathways. At certain points, so many groupings of uniform phrase work occur simultaneously that the progressions seem to flirt with chaos. Unwittingly, the dancers ask me, “How much of this can you catch?” Whether their hips jut out and propel them forward, or their legs soar to heights that can tell time, these dancers demand my undivided attention. 

It’s undivided until I start to realize that the woodland figures cast across the back of the stage are actually dead sunflowers. What an intriguing, and dare I say, spooky choice! As the music shifts to a more electronic, otherworldly realm and the lights warm up to dim down, I am curious about the relationships between the partners of a series of duets. Those wearing the pants–no pun intended–seem to handle those in shorts with a detachment and sense of control that at first felt off-putting. The pants-dancers grab the shorts-folk by their upper arms and manipulate them somewhat harshly. Some couples strip down from their button-downs, shorts, and pants to reveal nude, form-fitted clothing. What do they mean to each other, if anything? Are they two parts of a whole? Are they at odds with one another? I continue to ponder this relationship each time these pairings coalesce. 

Speaking of a different coalescence, the synergies between Brazilian and African movement are clearly exemplified. With their supple hips and undulant spines, the dancers’ movement can both marry and respond to the sounds that fill the air. Their rhythmic footwork and grounded legs maintain a groundedness found in both the Brazilian and African cultures. Its fusion into a not-so-secret, third style–Afro-Brazilian dance–is a natural, altogether enticing and engaging synthesis of the two forms. 

Gilberto Gil’s musical stylings create a fascinating environment in which the dancers can play, grow, connect, and diverge. The first work of the evening, Gil Refazendo, or “Gil Remaking,” is invigorating, enlivening. The dancers close the number by standing, huddled together, to observe the finally-clear image of the decaying sunflowers reviving, coming back to life in full color, form, height, and bloom. What are we willing to rebuild, remake, re-imagine, and revive together? How can we be brought back to life?

The ethereal dancers take their bows to the audience’s resounding applause, creasing at their hips and nodding their heads ever-graciously. Well, I really hope that’s not it! I sit in my seat and wait. I once again consult my all-knowing program, desperate for answers. Thank goodness. There’s one more. After intermission, I can look forward to another round of movement hypnosis. 

The curtains rise, and a single row of small, amber lights wrap around the midpoint of the stage’s perimeter and backdrop. They are neatly spread apart from one another. The dancers emerge onstage with the familiar lofted jumps and complex footwork. This time, all of the dancers don ankle-length white skirts. Nonetheless, each person’s hair is either braided or slicked down, and all of the dancers’ upper bodies appear to be nude. (I later realized that the presumably female dancers were wearing sheer tops.) A thick band of red paint covers each person’s neck. Suddenly, these exquisite bodies have taken on what feels like a spiritual persona. The stage maintains the warm, amber wash of lighting that we met in the previous piece. 

The dancers continuously emerge from and disappear into the black, veiled seats stationed below each of the small, amber lights around the stage. It forms a kind of ghostly arena. Gira, inspired by the rituals of the Umbanda religion in Brazil, compels me to wonder, “Are the dancers conjuring the spirits, or have we conjured the dancers who embody the spirits themselves?” An ancestral presence inhabits the space as the dancers circle around themselves and one another, skirts swelling and descending in their wake. 

More voices are incorporated in the soundscore, and there are often so many layered over top of one another that I cannot decipher the language they speak. Stringed instruments, cymbals, and drums add flavor to the already hearty voices, driving the pulse of the movement and trajectory of the work. As the work continues to progress, the dancers’ energy continues to climb and soar. Hailed as “a poetic view of man’s primordial need to connect with the divine,” the urgency with which the dancers move demonstrates this hunger. 

Two striking, impassioned solos, a peppering of duets, trios, and calculated large groups often make me forget about the sheer size and volume of this cast as their limbs swing, their shoulders shake, and their bodies tremble. They quake at varying moments, overtaken by the presence that inhabits and surrounds them before erupting into jumps that launch them across the stage and into their next display of veneration. When the dancers converge as a full group, my breath catches. Transparently, my anxiety climbs. Their force and intensity knows no ceiling. I know they must be tired, but how far are we willing to push ourselves to commune with the divine? What lengths will we go to in order to reach the trance-like state of release, respite, or freedom? 

Rodrigo Pederneiras’ fusion of Brazilian, African, ballet and modern dance is deeply admirable; he has managed to conjure up a new form completely. With movement lineages as clear as these, it can be easy for one style to dominate the other or for the binding of these styles to become unwieldy. I appreciate the depth of the Pederneiras Brothers’ research and commitment to culture. This evening of performances enraptured me; the skill with which the dancers’ performed this rich material is unparalleled. 

This was a “kinetic, spectacular” performance indeed. I can add a few more words to the list: Virtuosic. Captivating. Mesmerizing. Hypnotic. Spiritual. 

I needed to see it to believe it. Now that I’ve seen it, I definitely believe it. 

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Ashayla Byrd (she/they) (@abyrdnyca) is a DC-based dance artist and writer who is dedicated to amplifying the voices of BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ folks. Originally from Virginia Beach, Ashayla is eager to explore the richness of DC’s dance and writing communities!