Report #4
Ponddance
An early morning rain shower threatened to prevent Ponddance's opening
performance. Then, just when the the weather cleared enough to guarantee that
the show would go on, the sprinklers threatened to keep the fishes' audience
away. Either one of these possible reasons for cancellation would have
devastated the fish, as they had been preparing for weeks (remember, given the
elongated lifespan of koi, relative to humans, one day for us is equivalent to
weeks for them. This is how they have been able to prepare one spectacular
event per human day in the past). Clogging, after all, does not come easily to
fish. I say "fish," in general, because to round out the cast of this
off-off-off-off-off-Broadway production, the koi had to recruit the efforts of
several mosquito fish, which were delighted to be included, for once. They
resent their general invisibility in the pond world. Sure, they're needed to
keep the ecosystem going, but they are under-rewarded, underapreciated, and,
yes, looked down upon by the koi. Thus, the performance was not only to be a
spectacular show, but a boon to inter-ichtheological relations.
When the rain cleared, leaving a mist reminiscent of Ireland, the
setting was perfect. Maeve, Kathleen, Seamus, Irene, Liam, Maureen, Alec,
Sioban, and Caitlin took their places in the front row, along with the star,
Phinneas. If the name Phinneas seems contrived to you, dear reader, it is.
Phinneas' real name is Ludovic. At least it was, until he turned Irish in his
mid-fifties (by his own account, anyway). Nobody else believes his ethnic
metamorphosis, but the fish has chops -- he can clog like nobody's business --
so the others turn a blind eye to his cultural appropriation. These dancers
were joined by Caitlin, Lorelei, Emma, Jada, and Burnett. Some cast members
were disturbed by the inclusion of non-Irish or non-faux-Irish participants,
but hey, this is Bakersfield -- we don't have enough dancing koi, much less
Irish dancing koi to round out a cast, especially in a union gig.
To start the show, the principal lineup shone, front fins joined, faces severe, torsos stock still, and from the waist down, a frenzy of clogging back fins. All went well through the introductory number (that, as the synopsis in the program pointed out, was representative of the unity that characterized the pond in days past). The next dance, a ritual battle enacted through dance to the beat of a Celtic bodhran (played effortlessly by Sioban), starred Phinneas and Seamus. It began well. Soon, however, Seamus got dangerously close to the skimmer, lost his finning, and stumbled. Ever the quick witted performer, Phinneas worked it into the plot line seamlessly. The message was clear (though the synopsis helped, too): the recent food shortages had stretched the bonds of friendship, placing the fish in a precarious position vis-a-vis one another. The audience was none the wiser (though some suspect that subtleties of fish expressions are lost on her). Following the symbolic clogging fight scene, Maeve and Liam entered for their romantic duet -- a lyrical tangle of fins that engaged all onlookers, and that effectively evoked the will to persist, in spite of tyring times. This theme, one of renewed solidarity in the face of danger, carried over into the next number, as the full cast joined Maeve and Liam onstage, again, for the ensemble's final number. Appropriatley immobile from the waist up (as is characteristic of Irish dance), the fish stomped their back fins with all their might. The lack of shoes and feet, coupled with the watery environs, constituted a significant change to the genre. Some critics might point to this as a flaw. This one, however, considers that the fishes' twist on this ancient Irish tradition made it all their own.
At the close of the number, the audience could barely wait to
throw pellets onto the stage in an act of appreciation. There was no need for
the curtan to fall, as a wind that crescendoed, coincidentally, in accordance
with the building of the plot, was quite strong by the end. Blossoms and
diminutive leaves showered the stage, closing it to the audience in a curtain of
natural splendor.
In a post-performance interview, Kathleen (still breathless)
revealed her elation at the quality of the performance, before heading off to
practice for next week's dance genre: lambada.