מחשבות של עדן קרמר על הרמת מסך- מסך 1

Art in times of war is not a new question. It has been asked many times throughout history and even bred its own artistic movements that attempted to cope with reality or with helplessness in the face of it. It is a question that nags not only at artists but at the audience, who ask themselves: is it legitimate to devote an evening to consume culture instead of protesting? Instead of taking action? Is it moral? Perhaps necessary? In the space between escapism and activism there are many possible answers to these questions. What is certain is that everything currently exists in the shadow of reality, or more accurately, deep within it. 

At the opening of the festival, Maya Brinner, co-Artistic Director with Anat Katz, said something along the lines of: We are here, performing. Not forgetting. Performing but not forgetting. 

Her gaze betrayed that even in her eyes, this is a problematic position, faulty yet the maximum possible for us now without canceling ourselves, canceling dance. And as such, at least the program I witnesses, Curtain #1, included two works that touched directly on the war and two that did not. An attempt to walk a razor’s edge: to reflect without coloring everything. 

Maayan Liebman-Sharon’s “Based on a True Story” is a perfect example of a creation that looks at reality in the face. She succeeds, through the bodies and voices of the dancers, to expose the pain through a subtle stage approach offering a poetic, aesthetic, sensitive and painful experience. The duet, performed by Uri Dicker and Yulia Mejetskaya, brilliantly depicts a couple in an impossible situation in which the man returns home, seemingly from reserve duties. The man, dressed in simple clothing, walks around humming a shepherd’s song to himself. He meets his partner with the song still on his lips. They get close, their bodies attempt to meet but slip away once and again, losing grip. They continue to try to bridge the distance that has opened between them. The humming becomes irritating, unsettling. Folk songs (after the shepherd’s tune he continues to “He who dreamed” and “The Wheat Grows Again”) invade the home, the private space, the intimate. They don’t relent. The couple tries harder but, the more they try to hold onto one another, the more they get caught up, strangling and being strangled. For a second they find a sliver of a hug but immediately are torn apart again, growing tired, close to giving up. 

The audience, many of whom have tears in their eyes, hope that they will succeed, praying that it will end, that we will all be able to go back to our normal lives. I know that is impossible. The scars, physical and otherwise, are here to stay. The subject of this work is so specific, so small even, it isn’t bombs or hunger or hostages rather one angle: how the return from battle affects the closest bond, the relationship that thousands of couples are living now. Perhaps because of the “banality” of the topic, this work manages to hit strong and deep. There is no “message” here, no attempt to convince the crowd, rather a need to share a chasm that everyone, in their own way, can relate to. The work raises questions about the penetration of the national ethos into the most intimate of spaces and about how personal fate is thick as thieves, whether we wish it or not, with national fate, and what that says about us. When the two sing together, almost shouting the words, “How did this happen, how did this happen, how is it still happening”- the heart breaks. How did this happen, how did it happen, how is it still happening. 

Dicker and Mejetskaya’s performance is excellent. The physicality of the duet is very real, grounded, aesthetic in its wounded, imperfect approach. There are moments of virtuosity- contact and intriguing weight sharing but the virtuosity here is not the point rather the humanity. The dancers weave with their bodies and voices a complex relationship rife with pain. I truly hope this piece continues to develop into a full evening, which I would love to see. 

The second piece that spoke to me was “Reuta Deliba” by Ido Gidron. This is a work for four men, Gidron among them. The piece does not deal directly with the war however it presents an energy and an aesthetic that are much lacking during this period. This is an abstract piece of movement with no narrative in which four dancers act out the behavior of a group. They move through structures that are erected and dismantled in an organic, fluid manner. They look one another in the eye without pretense. They give one another space to breathe and move, treating each other with respect. They are manly men- strong, jumping high, rolling, lifting and being lifted into the air… all this occurring within a gentle and conscientious approach. This is a redesign of masculinity- empathetic, soft, humble. Although there is no clear political message here, it is impossible not to read the piece in its context: what type of masculinity is emphasized and appreciated in Israeli society now, or perhaps always? Is it possible to build a new model, and how does it look? 

A string of lights fill the space with a warm glow and the music, a combination of Hassidic tunes and recordings of rabbis speaking Yiddish, completes the atmosphere of a Hevruta (group). It is difficult to point out a single dancer, the four of them (Itamar Galina, Betzalel Baharmi, Shahar Dulinsky and Ido Gidron) are blessed with technique and stage presence so much so that the overall experience is one of unity and not individualism. It is a pleasing sight and here, in contrast to iebman-Sharon’s work, which only created a taste for more, it seems the shorter format is a perfect fit. In an act of smart curation, this piece closed the evening leaving us walking home with a sense of beauty, power and suppleness, with even a tinge of hope. 

The third creation was a solo by choreographer and dancer Eirad Ben Gal, which dealt explicitly with the subject of a border and its breaching. He began with a monologue that drew a sad and amusing parallel between two layers of reality- October 7 and Ben Gal’s personal-romantic relations, and from there moved on to a movement section illuminated by a strip of light projected onto the floor from above, presenting a concrete expression of that border. Ben Gal’s charisma as a performer, the minimalist movement, rich and precise and the charming delivery of the text made up for simplistic ideas and slightly childish writing. 

The fourth work, which opened the evening, was “Fermata” by Efrat Rubin. This piece took place outside, in the courtyard, and offered a multi-disciplinary experience including animation, live music performed by Adaya Godlevsky on a harp and a large, percussion instrument akin to a xylophone, vocal narration and movement phrases performed by three dancers. The fleeting connection between these elements was the theme of the piece- sleep. In Rubin’s voiceover she threw out key phrases connected to the world of sleep (alpha waves, shhhh, melatonin, the sounds of yawning) while the dancers traversed the space with worried expressions whilst performing neurotic movement, as ghostlike characters. I admit that I didn’t manage to find a connection between the various points although I did appreciate the choice to position the work outside and the use of live music. I enjoyed the black and white animation that was projected in impressive proportions on the walls of the Suzanne Dellal Centre, in which eyes opened and closed as well as beautiful pencil drawings of people cuddling in bed, trying to fall asleep. 

As in every year, this year “Curtain Up” managed to bring intriguing premieres both in concept and in form, with and without a connection to the situation. 

Curtain Up- Curtain 1 took place on 28.5.2025 at the Suzanne Dellal Centre.