Seeing Dance from a Critic's Eye

“I liked it…but I have no idea what I’m looking at”: my dad has some said version of that, more than once, when he’s joined me for dance shows. Each time I’ve gently pushed back on the sentiment, noting that as long as he liked it – felt something – it’s not important for him to “know” anything. I stand by that, and could just about shout it from the mountaintops. Every experience of dance art, so long as it is receptive and good-natured, is valid. That’s my professional opinion: signed, sealed, delivered.

At the same time, my father’s response to concert dance underscores a fundamental lack of fluency in dance as an art form (at no fault of their own; it’s largely due to the nature of our education system as well as cultural values…that’s a whole other conversation). What more could he, or any audience member, experience if they did “know” something about dance? How much broader and deeper could the experience be?

That is part of my mission as a dance critic and journalist, to broaden and deepen understanding of concert dance. With some basic guidelines and vantage points, this often abstract art form may not be as abstruse as some may think. Let’s look at how one can see dance from a critic’s eye!

(CitiBank Opera House, Boston, MA)

Before the curtain rises: setting up your understanding

To start at the very beginning, what should you wear to the theater? Business casual is completely acceptable (for example, a nice shirt and slacks or skirt), perhaps dressed up with nice shoes and/or jewelry.

If at all possible, get to the theater with a little pocket of time to comfortably get to your seat before “curtain” (the official start of the show). At the same time, don’t be surprised if that’s a good five to ten minutes after the official start time (just as with film and television sets, where performers often must “hurry up and wait”, there are many ingredients that must be ready before the show starts – and sometimes it is also simply a matter of holding for known ticket holders).

Unless you are a medical professional “on call”, or in another situation where you must get an urgent message, turn off your devices. Savor the time to not be looking at a screen (I assure you, it’ll be entirely fine).

If you’re watching dance film at home or in another more casual location, still turn off devices you don’t need. Enjoy the time immersed in kinetic art. Get cozy, grab some snacks and drinks…why not?

(CitiBank Opera House, Boston, MA)

9.9/10 dance programs come with a written program, either in paper or digital form (the latter often accessible via QR code, increasingly common these days as a more environmentally-friendly option). Feel free to browse it before curtain, if you have time – but, in my humble opinion, it’s also completely valid to receive the program without prior knowledge, to see what you see without that.

You’ll want to read the written program eventually, however, to learn about the artists and their perspectives on what they’re presenting, how the work evolved, et cetera. It could be interesting to compare and contrast what you see with what the artist intended to convey, or whatever vision and concept with which they created their work.

Before any of the following, I think this is a fundamental understanding when it comes to dance art: it may “mean” something, and it may not! There may be narrative or theme or idea undergirding the onstage action. The point could just be movement and/or atmosphere, kinetic energy and/or mood. Dance art can be any or all of that…how wonderful, I think!

Watching dance: the choreography

The curtain rises (or, if you’re watching dance film, someone hits “play”), and the dance commences. Some fundamental questions can help scaffold understanding of choreography.

• How many dancers are there, and what is the effect of that number? Do they fill the stage with their bodies and energy, or is there more open space? Do they seem to be connected, as a moving unit, or more separate entities? Is there a sense of community, or rather individuality?

• How close are the dancers to each other as they move? Do they move into each other’s “negative space” (the space where their bodies are not)? Do their bodies touch, almost touch, or stay separate? What sense of their moving relationship do you get: sensual, adversarial, tense, uncertain, somber, supportive, hopeful, uplifting?

• How fast or slow do the dancers move, and what is the relationship of that tempo to the score? How does that tempo make you feel? Do they move at the same (unison) or different (non-unison) tempos – and how does that influence your impression of them as a unit or as separate entities, of a moving community or more isolated personas? Does a shift in tempo occur at any particular time, in a way that feels significant?

• Also with respect to the score, how does the movement seem to relate to its mood/feeling? Does its energy seem to match that of the dancers (for example, soft or vibrant, tender or explosive)? Are there any particular lyrics or voiceovers that seem to speak something meaningful, in the context of all other elements at hand?

• How lifted do the dancers seem in their bodies? Do they dance close to the stage or even even right on it, or rather at their full height? Traditionally, a more lifted physicality characterizes ballet movement, while a more grounded and weighted feeling characterizes more contemporary dance forms as well as non-Western cultural dance forms. Yet these days the genres are blurring, so anything really goes – depending on a choreographer’s vision and inclinations. Whatever that may be, how does that influence your sense of the emotion onstage: more weighted and somber, or more lifted and hopeful?

• What is the movement quality: fluid and soft, are stronger and more accented? Are there changes in movement quality at any point that seem significant, considering other elements at work? How does that quality make you feel, and what might it signify in alignment with other elements at hand? How might the different dancers’ qualities be the same, and how may they differ? Are there any dancers that particularly draw your eye, and why might that be?

• Consider gaze; where are the dancers looking, and when? Do they look at each other, to audience, offstage, or keep a soft, undefined gaze? Do they clearly shift gaze at any point, and can you think of any reason why they might do so? Does that make you think of or feel anything in particular?

• Does movement stay close to the body, or expand out into space? Does that align with an overall sense of reflectiveness and inwards energy, or reaching out to the audience or other ensemble members, respectively?

• Do dancers repeat any of their movements? Often choreographers will begin the process of creating movement with a few base “phrases” (a string of connected movements, like a spoken or written “phrase” but in movement). These movements get shuffled and reassembled as the piece comes together, but often remain identifiable throughout a work if one keeps an eye out for them. Do these movement “motifs” seem to carry any significance in the work’s context? Do they show up at certain points for particular reasons, do you think? Does the quality with which dancers execute them change over the course of the work, and if so, why do you think that might be?

Plenty of questions there to consider, and one certainly doesn’t need to consider all of them. What matters is what resonates for you – don’t worry about the rest! I think it is also key to remember that there may not be “answers”, per-se, to some of these questions. Even if there aren’t, the act of asking them can inspire fruitful reflection.

Another thing to note is that large ensemble sections can feel like a lot for more dance-unacquainted audience members to absorb. Don’t try to closely see everything; you’ll likely only be frustrated. One approach is to keep a soft gaze on the whole stage picture, and simply enjoy how it feels to you. Another is to let your eye be drawn to particular dancers or pockets of the ensemble.

A last consideration here: particularly with more contemporary dance, some of the movement choreographers set, and some dancers improvise or make up right then (often with “scripts, or rough guidelines for improvisation, from choreographers). The former may seem more polished and carefully structured, while the latter could feel more honest and natural for certain dancers. You may be able to tell the difference, you may not. You may prefer one type of movement over the other – and that’s okay! Those experiences are all valid.

Watching dance: design elements

Dance is an art of the moving body. Yet when it comes to fully-produced concert dance, design elements – costume, lighting, set design, props – can signify just as much meaning as the movement. At their best, these supporting elements make the movement more evocative, resonant, and rich with meaning.

• Lighting: Is it in warm or cool colors? Does it light the whole stage, or just part of it – or any particular dancer? Does it create shadows on any particular part of the stage or over any particular dancer? Does any or all of that seem to contribute to an overall atmosphere or mood? Do changes in any of that seem significant, in the context of stage action and other design elements? Are there any particular effects that similarly align? Is there a backdrop, or changes in the backdrop, that similarly contribute?

• Costuming: Does it seem more quotidian or pedestrian, or more like specialized dance costuming? Does it seem to be from a particular time period, and if so how might that relate to theme? What are the colors: warm and bright, or cool and subdued? Are the dancers wearing the same or very similar costumes, and does that contribute to a unified feeling in the ensemble? Conversely, if they’re wearing different costumes, what might that convey? Are there costume changes, and if so, what might they signify (if anything) in context?

• Set Design and Props: These elements are less common in dance art (sometimes they’re not present at all). Yet sometimes they are very much part of a work, and carry a lot of weight with respect to meaning and/or aesthetic. They could be right on stage and/or backdrops. Do any set pieces frame onstage actions, and if they do, how so? Do the dancers interact with them in any way, and does that seem to have any meaning? Do the shapes of the set pieces correspond with the movement in any way? If there are any props, how do dancers use them? How do colors and textures align (or not align) with other elements at hand? How do these onstage elements fit into theme, if at all? Do they seem to have narrative significance, all else considered?

Again, many questions there (and a particular work could spark many more!) – only offered to direct the focus of, and catalyze thought for, one experiencing concert dance. With any or all of that, someone thinking that they “don’t know what they’re looking at” when it comes to dance might very well know exactly what they’re seeing (you too, dad!).

What you take out of the theater

Indeed, I’ve found that “non-dancers” – people largely unacquainted with concert dance – have incredible insights to contribute. I love taking these sorts of friends and family members with me to see dance, because they often see things I don’t. That could be me having certain “blinders” on from my experience with the art form, and/or simply the work resonating with other minds and hearts in ways that they don’t with mine.

A great thing about art, in my humble opinion, is that we can all receive it in different ways – depending on what we bring to it – and none of us are “wrong”! (So long as we’re honest and open-minded about the art before us; I think that unsupported and unreasoned takes are also possible.)

All of that to say: you have what you need to enjoy dance art, if you want to and have the opportunity (I hope that you do!). Your level of exposure or experience doesn’t matter; that can start now. No fancy classes, degrees, or reading required (as wonderful as those things can sometimes be!).

I included many questions and much information above to guide that start. As you leave the theater, perhaps you’re chewing on one or more of those elements. I know that often happens for me. Such post-show thoughts can be wonderful contemplation. It can also be wonderful to simply let yourself feel, to bask in the state to which the dance art has led you.

(Veterans Memorial Auditorium, Providence, RI)

I’m biased, but I do truly believe that there’s a unique magic that emerges when movement, music, and design elements come together. When it’s really good, I feel that magic in my own body; there’s a sort of tingling in my skin, some sort of chills or singular energy in my very fascia. That can linger for a bit of time after I leave the venue. If that happens for you when seeing dance, enjoy it. Revel in it.

You may have more thoughts later, you may not. Both thinking and feeling are valid responses to dance art. This critic confirms: you’ve seen it with a knowing eye, felt it with a receptive body. Whether you’ve seen one dance performance or one-hundred of them, that’s possible – and potentially quite special. I hope to see you at the theater soon!