There's a lot of text in Many Happy Returns, but dance, the language of the body, is here as important as words, though it's deliberately and artfully straightforward. The main character, who never speaks but at one moment sings a Billy Joel song in flat a cappella, is Monica Bill Burns. But is it really her?
In this partially improvised production at Playwrights Horizons, created by the artistic team of Burns and Robbie Saenz de Viteri, dancer and choreographer Burns does more than just play himself. there is no. Her character is a hybrid of its creator.
Burns plays the woman's body with a silent film charm, moving through space in a sinuous, revealing way, and Sáenz de Viteri speaks her mind throughout. Through movement and text, the characters' anxiety and joy spill out for everyone to feel and see. “She is a woman who is completely clear about herself, and that clarity may not always be exactly what she feels,” Saenz de Viteri says. That seems correct.
Bach, Blondie and Judy Garland are part of the vibrant soundtrack that usher in the new year. Flowers are handed out and toasts are made by a pre-arranged audience. we support her. “Many Happy Returns” winds its way down many different roads before joyfully arriving in an epic final dance to Talking Heads’ “(Nothing but) Flowers.” It has the jovial feel of a live podcast, and while it may seem loose, its freedom clearly comes from its rock-solid structure and detail.
At its core, “Many Happy Returns” is an experiment in the art of friendship and connection, about strangers finding community in a broken world. “I should say I play someone else. There will actually be a moment where I play one of you, and then there will be a moment where one of you has to play one of us.” says Saenz de Viteri. “So we're all in this together.”
This production is free to enter and takes place in a costumed space resembling a school gymnasium dance venue. With seemingly casual beginnings, Burns arranges pitchers and vases. Saenz de Viteri sat behind a small table and computer, setting the scene and saying, “There's definitely fear in the air this year. Maybe there's a little bit of joy. I don't know.” say.
But this performance will be “kind of a party,” he says. Sáenz de Viteri, the central character of the piece, is also a friendly host, friendly and approachable from the get-go. At the beginning, he asked the audience to borrow a hat, which turned out Thursday to be a paper fedora suitable for summer. The backstory that the hat was purchased during a trip to Italy comes up later in the show when Saenz de Vitelli weaves a story about the hat, inspired by a casual interaction with the wearer. This is another nice response. He makes the mundane fascinating.
And Burns rides her physical impulses, matching his verbal deftness as she comes to life, finding her footing as she stumbles triumphantly along her sometimes hilarious, sometimes clueless path. Let's say. She is in control, but beneath the surface she feels self-doubt. For her, dancing is her armor, and it seems to be where she is safest.
This is incredible because Burns pieced together seemingly simple movements. They flap their legs repeatedly, spin freely and forcefully, snap their fingers with glee, and fly like a strong wind from one direction to the next. Her expression, which oscillates between warmth and expressionlessness, is another kind of armor, a mask. “Her face didn't always convey how she felt about everything,” Saenz de Vitelli says. “My face has always been like that.”
But she finds solace when she dances with three friends from her past: Mikel Marai Nairn, Inda Mariana, and Flannery Gregg. They appear and disappear through a door behind the stage. In these duets, the dancers balance rolled-up yoga mats on their heads, walk back and forth to the Bellamy Brothers' “Let Your Love Flow,” and lip-sync to “Islands in the Stream.” In each they are movement-bound twins.
Near the end, Sáenz de Viteri says: Talking doesn't actually make us all feel better. ”
All four of them spread out on the dance floor to Blondie's “Dreaming.” As we learned earlier in this piece, movement may not be permanent, but its afterimage does. And just like admission to this show, Dreaming is also free, courtesy of Blondie.
many happy returns
At Playwrights Horizons until January 18th. playwrightshorizons.org.
