Procession

Photo Credit: Bruce Zinger. Pictured: Hannah Galway and Christopher Gerty.

In showcasing the ritual and spirituals inherent to the human experience, Procession serves as a turning point for the National Ballet of Canada. The production magically and abstractly conjures the invisible forces that bind us together: our communal moments of mourning and celebration, and our shared expressions through folk dance, song, and ceremony. Procession masterfully exhibits the power of the ensemble, emphasizing collective strengths through duets and trios. Notably, even during solo performances, no dancer is singled out like in classical ballet; instead, each performer remains interconnected with the whole.

This interconnectedness is even seen through the fusion dance style of the choreography. While starting from the foundation of Baroque ballet and music, Bobbi Jene Smith and Or Schraiber’s unique choreography combines languid and explosive movements, drawing from the Gaga style. As a movement language, Gaga emphasizes focusing on the inner body, rather than outward appearances. As such, Procession includes several instances of primal human expression—particularly in its Act 2, which redeemed the performance from its overly leisurely Act 1.

Act 1 opens with glimmers of the production’s potential, particularly in a trio where the dancers always found a way to connect to each other, whether it was through a hug or just tumbling into each other. Their smooth transitional movements created moments of visceral connectedness, while their pleasing brows and sustained eye contact embodied the sorrowful mood of the accompanying songs.

Unfortunately, these promising moments were buried underneath Act 1’s overwhelmingly lethargic pacing. The transitions between dance numbers dragged interminably, testing the audience’s patience. In one particularly excruciating sequence, three stagehands unfold a pile of chairs into formation, each taking a single chair at a time and delivering it with painstaking deliberateness. Meanwhile, male dancers entered from upstage, walking languidly towards stage left in a disjointed tempo that only amplified the sluggishness. The subsequent chair choreography, which featured speedy entrances and precise arm tutting, briefly recovered the energy, but the damage to the performance’s momentum had already been done.

A markedly unique moment was when the male dancers in the chair ensemble suddenly looked up and screamed. This vocalization was symbolically powerful, as it demonstrated communal mourning while showing the audience how dance can expand beyond traditional barriers of solely relying on movement to tell a story. Their unrestrained movements are reminiscent of how, across different cultures, many religions and spiritualities encourage gathering after death to celebrate life, rather than just staying silent and isolated. Like the Mexican Día de los Muertos, the Jewish Shiva, or the New Orleans Jazz Festival, the dancers’ synchronization showcased the fundamental depth of human emotion and foreshadowed the vitality that eventually emerged in Act 3, making it stand as Act 1’s most compelling artistic choice.

However, such moments of inspiration remained rare. The most egregious example of Act 1’s failure arrived during a diagonal formation featuring repetitive leg sequences. Each ensemble member stood listlessly in line, waiting for their turn to click into position and execute movements the audience had already seen multiple times. The abstract nature of the choreography might have justified this repetition, but the imprecise leg heights and sloppy footwork ultimately created confusion. The audience was left wondering whether the dancers were supposed to be synchronized or deliberately out of sync, which speaks to fundamental failures in the choreography’s clarity.

Dance productions tend to decline in their second half, as the performers’ energies flag and the audience grows restless. I expected something similar to Procession, especially after the drag that was Act 1. So, I was pleasantly surprised when Act 2 transformed the production and delivered the emotion and artistic payoff that Act 1 promised but failed to fully realize.

In Act 2, the choreography gained confidence and clarity, as the ensemble moved like a unified organism through increasingly complex formations. The duet work in this act showcased remarkable chemistry and technical skill, as the two dancers executed abstract movements with smooth and seamless transitions. They alternated between fluid and sharp, staccato gestures that engaged the audience’s attention. While there were some moments during lifts where the male dancer faltered, these moments ironically humanized the performance, reminding us that even in the most ritualized traditions, human experience will shine through. The choice to let the female dancer perform with their hair down added a rawness and vulnerability that was absent from Act 1’s more restrained presentation.

The production design also proved outstanding, as Act 2 featured a full-size grey hearse as a central prop that grounded the abstracted dances into the tangible reality that is death, funeral procession, and the (sometimes hysterical) mourning that follows. There were some instances where the hearse became a distraction, such as when the background dancers fixed its undercarriage. Still, overall, it was an intriguing and engaging visual treat, especially as it led the final procession of the performance.

Perhaps the most notable aspect of Act 2, the integration of live musicians into the choreography, has a mixed result. The opera singer (Rachel Wilson) and cellist (Coleman Itzkoff) both attempted to participate in the movement, swaying and gesturing alongside the dancers. Unfortunately, their timing appeared consistently off-beat. Moreover, while Itzkoff’s decision to lift his instrument above his head created a visual spectacle, it competed with rather than complemented the dances. Still, even this was a welcome divergence from the monotony of Act 1.

In conclusion, Procession is an investment, one that rewards you for sticking through its slower first act by presenting you with the feast that is its second. Audience members coming from theatre or narrative backgrounds may be especially unimpressed by Act 1, as there is a lack of a defined plot structure. Yet, Act 2 is a glorious expression of communal grief, vulnerability, and hysteria. It is truly the emotional core of the performance, one that I personally see as worth the patience Act 1 demanded.f theatre, remember that each performance is an opportunity to connect, reflect, and engage with the stories that shape our lives. Don't miss out on the chance to be part of the magic at Kritique Huddle Theatre!