A Clean Look Makeup Experience
2023 Fall Dance Festival
University of Reno
Reno, Nevada
Nov. 2 – 4, 2023
Music wasn’t playing, but people were moving up onstage. It was a bit odd. Even odder was dancer Sam Shepard (not to be confused with the playwright) doing his best impression of Charlie Brown’s teacher.
“Wah-wah, wah wah…”
And the dancers were moving along to the beat he set. I’ve never seen something like that.
That was the opening to the fifth piece, titled “A Clean Look Makeup Experience” and choreographed by Andrew Paiz, of the University of Nevada’s 2023 Fall Dance Festival hosted at the Redfield Proscenium Theatre on the Reno campus by the Department of Theatre and Dance.
Following the initial scene, in which Shepard prances about adding makeup haphazardly to the faces of other dancers, the piece included dancers playing as angry barking dogs, slow motion, and even some musical-esque singing.
The slow-motion movement heightened the chaos in the story of the dance. It hit just as a basket of lipsticks clattered to the floor and kicked off a frenzy among the characters to grab a stick of their own. Some even took a bite out of their lipstick, making a parody of ’50s makeup commercials.
It wasn’t only the dancing that impressed me about that piece. The costumes pulled the audience into the world of the dancers and the lighting focused our attention.
That was true for many of the pieces, and added to the storytelling that flowed through each of them. There were nine dances in total, each choreographed by a student or recent alum. Each student choreographer worked with a dance faculty member to clarify what they wanted to do with their piece. That thoughtfulness was obvious to me in most of the pieces. They were complex, smart, and physically breathtaking.
One dance absolutely blew my mind with its interlocking physicality: “(un)ATTACHED,” choreographed by Emily Leech.
The piece opened with one dancer, Demiah Hunt, locked in a repeating set of moves while sitting in a corner of the stage. Another shortly joined her onstage, but did not immediately interact with Hunt.
Then a group of three dancers entered from the back right, completely attached and holding up one another in graceful movements. They demonstrated immense strength and timing to show the peak of interconnectivity. And they were so smooth that it looked effortless. Their connection contrasted with the isolation of the other two dancers.
As the dance went on, the other dancers were able to get Hunt to her feet. That change sparked a second act to the piece, as the five dancers built relationships amongst themselves in simultaneous action across all four quadrants of the stage.
It was a lot to process as new connections formed and others dissipated to the atmospheric sounds of ELSZ and Unloved. The simpler narrative of the piece and the open music behind it allowed the audience to fully enjoy the physical form of the dance and admire the elegant teamwork and skill of the dancers.
Hunt also featured in another one of my favorite pieces from the evening. “Pressurized,” choreographed by Maddy Regrut, who did not dance in this one but did in a couple of others, used tense, deliberate movement, scratchy sound design, and generally creepy vibes to tell a story living with anxiety. In moments, the dancers looked in-sync, on the same page, and in community with one another as lovely, clear notes from French interwar composer Maurice Ravel floated through the room. In others, the dancers scratched themselves and dragged themselves across stage while Ravel’s notes were interrupted by unsteady, uneasy static.
It was uncomfortable. The dancers seemed to be suffering from some strange affliction. But its nature and symptoms were hidden from us. They did an excellent job of displaying that through their pained, fearful facial expressions and slow-to-fast movement. The five wore silk night dresses, too, adding to my feeling that I was watching something I shouldn’t be seeing. This seemed to be some sort of private matter.
One audience member behind me turned to his friend at the end of the piece and said, “That was weird. I liked it.” That was my feeling, too.
While I felt many of the dances had some narrative power and a thoughtful style, “Wrap it up!” choreographed by Alyssa von Eberstein, unfortunately did not have either. It opened with a trio of tap dancers battling for supremacy in full-body neon suits before a group of shoeless revolutionaries showed up armed with bubble wrap and what seemed to be a goal to show that they could make sound with their feet, too. If that narrative arc had developed into a dance battle between the tappers and the bubble wrappers, I think it would have been an intriguing contrast in style and offered ample opportunities to display entertaining physical humor akin to “A Clean Look Makeup Experience.” Alas, it became a hodge-podge, spaghetti-on-the-wall mix of confusing group dance moves and abrupt music changes. All wrapped up in bubble wrap, blacklight, and those neon onesies. The tappers inexplicably joined the bubble wrappers for can-can at one point after taking off their shoes. Later, after they had all participated in a moment of waving themselves with bubble wrap fans, the tappers returned to close the piece. It was all a bit confusing; I’m not entirely sure what the goal of the dance was. It felt unnecessarily rushed and haphazard.
But overall I enjoyed this festival. Its diversity in tone, style, sound, and narrative made for an engaging experience. At the end of each piece I found myself ready for the next short story I was about to witness. The dancers, and a supportive, interested audience, kept the energy up with their impressive, determined, and strong movement. The production felt professional, but risky and personable in an experimental collegiate way.
What’s next for the UNR Department of Theatre and Dance: From Feb. 9 – 18, it will do a run of Stephen Sondheim’s Assassins in collaboration with the School of Music.
