Shakespearean bodies in movement: Central and Eastern European and American echoes on dance stages

Within the choreographic space – and especially in the theatrical one – Shakespeare is the playwright who has created countless opportunities in the exercise of rewriting and stage reformulations, filtering the major events of the last decades of Europe. Undoubtedly, viewed as a whole, stage rewritings based on Shakespeare's plays, like literary ones, constitute what Julie Sanders calls ‘a cultural barometer for the practice and politics of adaptation and appropriation’. ¹ In recent years, choreographers have increasingly showed interest in the transposition of the Shakespearean subjects. From classical approaches to contemporary dance that aims to experiment or which falls within genre studies, the range of expressions and styles has been rich and eruptive. For instance, Lady Macbeth is revisited in terms of ethnic and gender identity in Risima Rysimkin's choreographic concept, ² and the universe of hybrid forms is a keystone of Hamlet Complex Redux, choreographed by Alan Lucien Øyen. ³ Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker explores the relationship between movement, space, and time in The Golden Hours (As You Like It). ⁴ The discourse of race and ethnicity is emphasised by Mats Ek in Julia & Romeo, ⁵ as is Rosie Kay's ⁶ Romeo + Juliet mix of music genres (from Berlioz's traditional score to hip-hop and street dance). In this universe of adaptation or appropriation, there is, on the one hand, an effect of fitting the Shakespearean text into an aesthetic line or an artistic credo and, on the other hand, bridges are created between cultural identities and between different languages – from the written text to the stage transposition and non-verbal versions. There is a wide landscape of adaptations which, as Sanders argues, ‘enact and re-enact the activity of storytelling’, ⁷ leading to an increase in productive reception. The twentieth and twenty-first century spectator witnesses the fluidisation of discursive barriers, as Shakespearean stories are explored in theatre, opera, ballet, and film, but also in new media forms and in the gaming industry – the latter two fields being more recently involved in the process of Shakespearean adaptations. Even if nowadays the distance between Western and Central-Eastern Europe seems to be melting, the imprint of cultural specificity is still present in the network of signs and meanings. Yet, history has not always been so permissive regarding cultural transfers; for instance, during the Cold War, the relationship between the United States of America and Central-Eastern Europe underwent an obvious decline influenced by the geopolitical tensions between the Americans (and their Western allies) and the Soviet Union.

This article will show how the connections between Eastern European choreography and the main trends of American dance persisted beyond the difficult moments of ideological conflicts, and how the presence and revisiting of the Shakespearean canon represented a meeting point, both before and especially after the 1990s. As Pavel Drabek notices, ‘Shakespeare has been deployed to reflect on our cultural and political history. For centuries, the plays – and in particular the tragedies, thanks to their political awareness – have served as metaphors of desired freedoms – “states unborn and accents yet unknown” (Julius Caesar 3.1.114) – and of the frustrated pasts of Eastern Europe marked by visions of a millenarian state of one's own’. ⁸ After all, many of the current performances echo earlier experiments from the 1990s, and the revisited and debated themes follow up and complement older social concerns. There is no doubt that the universal Shakespearean themes constitute an important source for choreographers, directors, and composers. Moreover, it is certain that the powerful themes, tragedies emotions, and the paradoxical encounters between the comic and the dramatic feed the imagination of creators across ages and cultures. Few can dispute the contention by Stanley Wells who, albeit on a poetic note, argues that Shakespeare is like the world's water supply that will not dry up until life is no longer on earth. ⁹ Similarly, there is little cause for controversy in Drabek's statement that despite the nuanced history of events, or the ethnic or cultural boundaries, Eastern European countries also have a common identity consciousness ‘in which Shakespeare has played a special role, both culturally and historically’. ¹⁰

The focus of the article will be on a less visible yet existing phenomenon of the influence that American choreography has had in Central and Eastern Europe. It is necessary to distinguish between the period before the collapse of the communist regimes and the obvious advancement in relations between the United States of America and the bloc countries after its dissolution. Before the 1990s, even if the communist system made it difficult if not impossible for artists to move around, the rather pale reflections of encounters with American directions played a niche role. However, iconic personalities managed to overcome political and ideological frontiers; for example, Martha Graham, considered a cultural diplomat of dance in Eastern Europe, toured overseas in the 1950s and 1960s. In 1962, together with her company, she visited Poland, former Yugoslavia and, during the same period, ¹¹ she travelled to Romania. In 1964, Merce Cunningham and his company (founded in 1953) performed in Europe, including the Warsaw Autumn Festival of Contemporary Music, embarking on their first international tour that extended to Asia. The artist broke away from the Martha Graham Company, where he had originally started his career, and brought to Europe his personal and innovative vision of body exploration through other arts, such as contemporary music or interaction with video concepts. Alvin Ailey Company arrived in Eastern Europe in 1974 and 1979. Barefoot dancing, also practiced in Cunningham's choreographies, but especially the distinctive sign of Isadora Duncan, returns through the shows presented by Alvin Ailey on the Central and Eastern European stage.

The 1970s were marked by fluctuating periods of ideological freeze-thaw, in which the effect of dictatorial politics, extremist nationalism and isolationism is doubled by an underground consensus of artists in opposition to communist directives. Such circumstances determined the ‘import’ of some productions of American companies. These tours, occasioned by events that took advantage of the thawing periods of communism, represented cultural spots that had the fundamental role of creating artistic communities and promoting both traditional values and avant-garde expressions. However, the clouded cultural and political landscape after the Iron Curtain was not a permissive environment for the continuity of artistic contacts or for the freedom of ideas. In the Hungary of Mátyás Rákosi and later of János Kádár, the entry of Western choreographic material was forbidden. Lavia Fuchs comments:

The cultural politics of the period destroyed the basis of modern dance education. Throughout the following decades, dance life in Hungary lacked individual initiatives and failed to emphasise the importance of creativity and freedom of expression. Canonical and standardised forms, systematic quality and hierarchy were the things that counted. Innovation and experiment were rather risky. ¹²

The model to follow was that of Soviet propaganda. Art was to be dedicated to the working masses. Gheorghe Gheorghiu Dej and, later, Nicolae Ceaușescu's policies in Romania were also proletarian. There were also episodes of apparent relaxation. A case in point is choreographer László Seregi, who put the accent on the narrative side of the choreographic scenario and who succeeded, especially in the second half of the 1980s, in presenting performances to the public in which he introduced influences from Western choreography. Visibly influenced at one point in his career by the mix of ballet and musicals, ¹³ Seregi created a Shakespearean trilogy in the late 1980s and early 1990s consisting of Romeo and Juliet (Rómeó és Julia, 1985), A Midsummer Night's Dream (Szentivánéji álom, 1989), and The Taming of the Shrew (Makrancos Kata, 1994). As Lavia Fuchs points out, after the fall of the communist regime, interference with the Western and American worlds became visible in Hungarian choreography, and it is in this context that ‘the Opera company started to take in some of the basic works from the twentieth-century western European and American ballet repertoire’. ¹⁴

In Romania, the Russian ballet school was the guiding path for young ballet dancers and students of ballet schools. The Bucharest Opera had an open collaboration with the Parisian institution of the same name. Through scholarship opportunities, among the few exceptions in the doctrinal line, the soloists could attend classes in the French capital where they interacted with the important techniques of the time – including the technique of Martha Graham. ¹⁵ Also, artists who chose the exile – such as Stere Popescu or Gigi Căciuleanu – later represented the voices that revitalised Romanian choreography alongside. Other artists, who later formed the dance company Contemp, ¹⁶ remained in the country. As the borders reopened in the 1990s, choreographers became more mobile and, at the same time, exported national values in the much-desired intercultural exchange. With the advent of communism, Bulgaria, like other countries in the region, came under the new laws imposed, under which dance, like other arts, must be useful for propaganda and considered a good tool for maintaining good health. However, it should be noted that here, following the imposed nationalist trend, choreography was forced to focus on folk dances, with folk music developing in parallel. Classical ballet was not excluded, but it is important to note how folkloric performances took Bulgarian choreography abroad. Moreover, the phenomenon further explains the preference for ethnological expressions with a culture-specific imprint, not only in Bulgaria, but also everywhere in its vicinity.

As a general note, in communist Eastern Europe, unconventional, undoctrinaire, or innovative artists were kept away from the stage. In some auspicious situations, independent amateur groups were formed. In Serbia, the influence of Western dance came even later: from 1990 onwards, according to the socio-political context, supported by the involvement of the Soros Foundation, and as a democratic response to the leftist regime that continued to exert its influence. In addition, from a general perspective, Stephanie Jordan and Andrée Grau conclude that ‘[w]e might note to the impact of American modern dance as a force for internationalization, Russian ballet serving a similar role in former Eastern bloc countries’. ¹⁷

The influence of theatre on choreography was another aspect that supported the link between Shakespeare's plays and dance manifestations. As this article's focus is not solely on classical or neoclassical ballet, but also the conceptual, minimalist, and interdisciplinary areas, it is necessary to mention the Tanztheater or the avant-gardes from the middle of the last century. Dancers become dance-actors, and the dramaturgy of movement is doubled by a dramaturgy of action and words. European choreographers collaborate with theatre directors, from whom they take a modus operandi, or insert directorial concepts, having themselves been trained in in multiple fields. Choreographic theatricality supports from within the dramatic thread, if it exists, or puts forward an idea that forms the basis of a fragmentary approach, especially when we are dealing with a contemporary approach. Beginning in the 1970s, choreographic theatre has gradually become a reality and, with the evolution of the relationship between mimesis and kinesis, the expression of political or social realities developed into a constant. This is why, for example in the case of Pina Bausch, when she repeats a common gesture, she actually ‘proposes an outrageous, caustic theatricality, laying bare power games and daily ways of speaking or behaving’. ¹⁸ In fact, the theatricalisation of choreography and the immersion, since the 1960s, in the performative expression, between dance and theatre was one of the forms of challenging the canon, of formalism. In The Routledge Companion to Theatre and Performance, Paul Allain and Jen Harvie support this notion: ‘it can be argued that all movement, however abstract, contains, reflects or endorses an ideology’. ¹⁹

If at present there is more discussion about the explorations of the Elizabethan playwright's creation in the choreographic space, it is also due to the rigorous research dedicated to the subject. Of note are the contribution by studies that analyse the Bard's work in the choreographic process. From Alan Brissenden's earlier study Shakespeare and the Dance (1981) to more recent studies in The Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare and Dance (2019), Elizabeth Klett's Choreographing Shakespeare (2020), or the related study on the subject, edited by Valerie Traub, The Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare and Embodiment (2016) provide just a few examples. Researchers are finding a less trodden path to progress, and at the same time providing a wealth of documented material to draw conclusions that further guide possible choreographic or hermeneutic directions.

Dancers have always found resources in techniques developed from other cultural and stylistic dimensions than their country of origin or the place where they started their careers. The roots – whether traditional or experimental schools – provide creators a common surface and, at the same time, they are separated in interwoven, lively dialogues that can gravitate around a great author, an idea, a desire. Today, when interculturality has become the status quo, Shakespeare crosses the stages of the world and, one might ask what the conjuncture between the great choreographic trends is. What is specific in the expression of Central and Eastern European choreographers? Is it only the recurring images linked to the history of the five decades of communism or the post-war crises? Adeline Chevrier-Bosseau notices that Eastern European artists used references to the oppressive, dictatorial regimes they came from in the performances created: ‘as in Radu Poklitaru and Declan Donnellan's Hamlet, where Claudius is portrayed as a dictator wearing a military uniform – or metaphorically’. ²⁰ It is, after all, a more or less coded, more or less visible reaction to the grey horizon and the imposition of socialist-communist visions of the New Man concept or the new artist. The question of how the echoes of artistic life from across the Atlantic reached Central and Eastern Europe may also be posed. There are just a few and flimsy landmarks in this regard that a researcher may feel like is testing quicksand. Before and after the fall of the Iron Curtain there were connections, albeit sometimes fluctuating, between United States and Eastern European dance pedagogy. Therefore, an analysis of certain productions may serve to prove that these connections between Western and Eastern European aesthetics are self-evident in present-day choreographic art.

American dance influences in central and Eastern European choreographic aesthetics: Rewriting Shakespeare through dance

In the current political and cultural climate, the impact of American modern dance is unmistakeable and choreographers are acknowledging its merits worldwide. Cases in point are Martha Graham with her synthesising, narrative direction, in which gestural symbolism is a constant, or Merce Cunningham's minimalist, conceptual direction, along with the performative area approached by Trisha Brown; these approaches that have since entered the pages of history are recognisable, especially after the disintegration of the communist bloc. Modern American dance creates its own aesthetics that takes shape at the crossroads between body movement and other arts (visual arts, sculpture, architecture), but also in improvisation, the refusal of the classical ballet costume and the use of contemporary compositions. The replacement of Prokofiev's score, for example, and the transposition of Romeo and Juliet with Radiohead's music (as Edward Clug does) are the result of a long discourse of revaluing the canon and a postmodern positioning. It may be recalled that in Split Sides, Cunningham creates a choreography in two parts, using the musical composition of the British Radiohead (Untitled) and the Icelandic band Sigur Rós (the song Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do). A series of sounds have been reconfigured with the help of electronic equipment, creating an intrinsic link between the sound space and bodily flow. As a result, the movement thus decomposed, disconnected as if from the rhythm of the music is the expression of the freedom of the dance and the sine qua non coexistence between the two languages. This vision echoes more prominently in choreographic creations from the 2000s onwards, and the universe of Shakespearean paradoxes undoubtedly supports the hybridisations and coexistence of the contraries.

Moreover, the musical also represents a distinct chapter in the history of American culture, a genre developed mainly in the second half of the twentieth century. The overlap between theatre and the musical score, with its spectacular formulas, fascinated European artists and originated in Eastern European culture. Choreographer Janusz Józefowicz carries out such an approach, as illustrated below. A detailed analysis of some artists and their performances supports the argument's structure. Law, whether dressed in classical ballet costume or covered as required, also restricts the body of the Central and Eastern European artist. In Romania, there were notorious party meetings that launched such absurd laws regarding the dancer's equipment that they seemed to be taken from dystopian literature. Cristian Vasile finds a psychological explanation of how the fall of the communist bloc affected the mentality of stage people (actors, directors, and choreographers): ‘In the 1970s and 1980s, other constraints were added to the entertainment programmes of bars and the performance regime, which explains, in a way, the uncontrolled explosion of nudity and exhibitionism after 1989’. ²¹

A Czech artist with a complex professional training background, Petr Zuska followed the Czech School: Jiří Kylián, Pavel Šmok, and Libor Vaculík. In addition to Mats Ek, Hans van Manen, Christopher Bruce, and Ohad Naharin, Zuska works with Alvin Ailey's company and has danced with the Boston Ballet. His collaboration with Robert North has also kept him in touch with the American scene; North is also one of Martha Graham's disciples. Zuska's encounter with Shakespeare came with the performance of Romeo and Juliet choreographed at the Czech National Ballet in 2013. ²² Under the dome of Prokofiev's music, Zuska's conception is full of dynamic energy and sensitivity. In addition, there is an emphasis on theatricality, which enhances the ability to convey the message. Even in the sphere of classical ballet, many innovative elements are used. The tragedy of the children in Shakespeare's verses is transformed into a poetic movement, in which bodies float between the world of ideals and the depths of experience and break down on impact with the walls imposed by social norms, by a system that divides the most fragile existences: good and evil, life and death, protection and abuse. Beyond the familiar line of text and musical composition, Zuska brings genres together. The comic scenes are interspersed among the dramatic, and the energy sustaining them manages to counterbalance the tragedy, whether in the duel sequences or in the final scene. Certain moments rely on pantomime and stage play, such as the brief sequence between the children who, belonging to the rival Capulet and Montague families, are not allowed to pretend to be in love. Therefore, their performance looks more like a pastiche, a children's game. The comedy spreads a romanticised and slightly childish note, in contrast to the unfortunate end of the two young people, victims of a world that stifles their aspirations and the beauty of their feelings. Equally funny are Mercutio's appearances, the effect of which culminates in the passage of his death, conceived as a farce and an attempt to defy death.

There are moments where the dancers seem to mouth words through their movements, which is strictly related to the theatrical approach of the choreography. There are also movements from the area of physicality or physical theatre (such as Romeo and Juliet's pas de deux details when they learn of Tybalt's murder). One element with a visibly theatrical result is the separation of plans between dynamic and static. Some interventions of Destiny's character, as in the case of the two deaths – Mercutio's and Tybalt's – are done in close-up, with movement, while the parallel back sequence freezes. The action pauses for a few minutes for those who live to represent the agony of the young boys. The duet with the character of Destiny with jerky, fast or slowed movements is a lyrical and symbolic form, including choreographically, of creating distances of expression. The optical illusions, through the effect of the same stop motion is obvious and it surprises. Zuska crafts images onstage, in the way he uses and intersects plans of action, leaving no empty spaces between the changes of the paintings. The way Romeo learns that Juliet has died and is laid to rest in the Capulets’ chapel is a short scene in which dark silhouettes in contre-jour pass in the background, very well highlighted, somewhat reminiscent of Robert Wilson's technique. Meanwhile, in the foreground, Romeo, visibly troubled, registers on his face the pressed, glacial footsteps of distant figures.

At the same time, it should be noted that the collective character is excellently integrated. Whether representing members of the two families in conflict, or having suggestive value by placing itself between the idea of feminine or masculine or strength and fragility, the collective body of dancers is a firm presence, a proper construction. Sometimes a wall, sometimes a permeable surface, the ensemble is the image of society, of laws. It intensely experiences the rhythms and empathises with the protagonists. The collective character coagulates and breaks the flow of movement. The interaction between the sets and the dancers is also theatrical (one might say from the Brechtian style). Mercutio, through pantomime movements, pulls back the intermediate curtain to reveal another stage plan. He is also the one who pounds his fists on imaginary gates, like a true rebel and dreamer. A seeker and claimant of freedom. The dancers’ suggestive manipulation of the stairs from a distance is also an expressive gesture craft. The result is the impression of the real. Under the choreographic signature of Zuska, Romeo and Juliet is given all the ingredients of a total performance, adapted to audiences who know both classical and innovative techniques, placing it at the crossroads of the arts.

However, Zuska's Romeo and Juliet is not always seen from a classical or conceptual perspective. There are achievements that intersect with entertainment, where the director intervenes with a fascinating vision of total performance (including acting, music, dance, and even acrobatics and other art forms). The lovers’ tragedy of Verona turns into a popular production that offers the audience a visual experience and a multi-faceted performance by the actors. If one were to trace the source of such entertainment approaches, it would be observed that they emerged mostly in the area of musicals and are, at least on the Central and Eastern European side, of more recent origin. An important factor is the economic development and the emergence of private theatres, but also the more substantial subsidies for productions tangential to pop culture. Polish choreographer Janusz Józefowicz is a versatile artist who also works as an actor and director. His knowledge of the Polish school of theatre and dance was complemented by a six-month fellowship in the USA where he worked with American dancers. This experience was followed by his staging of the musical Metro, which in 1992 opened at the Minskoff Theater on Broadway. Then in 2016, Peter Pan (Piotruś Pan), or Polita (musical dedicated to the artist Pola Negri) began a run of the Polish choreographer's large-scale productions: it was followed by the 2017 musical Romeo and Juliet 3D (Romeo i Julia 3D na wodzie). In a choreographic royalty that also touches on acrobatics, stage combat, and hip-hop dance, Józefowicz's Romeo i Julia sought to make Shakespeare understandable on many different levels, even if it meant betraying the text from time to time. For example, the introductory scene takes place at a party, with disco-pop music and entertainers choreographed like a television show. Another sequence in which the Capulets are on a personal boat suggests on one hand the inner drift, and on the other hand the opulence of a wealthy household. Other examples worth noting: Lady Capulet sings while accompanied by a retinue of women in exquisite costumes as if on a catwalk; Romeo is menaced by a gang of childish kids with Russian mafia references; his friends are hip-hop dancers. Master Nam-Bui Ngoc Hai gives a demonstration of Eastern martial arts. The elements of a consumerist and hedonistic society crowd in without interruption. There is acting, singing, and dancing in the water, while water in the form of rain falls on the actors. The images are futuristic. The focus is on the conflict between generations, between parents and children, the director reducing the tragedy to the communication crisis between them. Too much? Too little? In his desire to capture his audience, Józefowicz leaves the impression that he cannot stop.

Why Radiohead and Shakespeare in a re-visitation of the Romeo and Juliet theme? It is a question that Edward Clug – the Slovenian choreographer with Romanian origins – may answer as follows: ‘My intent was not to retell the story. I wanted to use it as a metaphor that Juliet is still searching for her lost love – inspiration that travels through the centuries’. ²³ Shortly after finishing his studies in Cluj-Napoca (Romania), Clug took a job at the Slovenian National Theatre in Maribor. Interested in the most resonant titles in classical ballet (he choreographed Sacre du Printemps in 2012; Peer Gynt in 2015; Faust in 2018), he is also interested in the unconventional, illustrated by his 2005 creation of Radio and Juliet. First, as a challenge, he wanted to stay away from Prokofiev's music; and second, in keeping with his own artistic beliefs, he left his creative mark. Underpinned by the theatre experience he had earlier in his career with director Tomaž Pandur, Clug's choreography is crossed by the imprint of Jiří Kylián as well as American artists, among whom he credits William Forsythe and Twyla Tharp. From Forsythe he borrows the theatrical setting and the inserts with strong visual impact, while from Tharp he continues the idea of mixing musical genres from classical sounds to jazz and pop music. This blurring effect that Julie Sanders finds as ‘perhaps the most productive of the cultural interstice’ ²⁴ is revealed in his production of Radio and Juliet. Here, although the premise is that the fate of Capulet's daughter in a modern-day world is being followed, important fragments of the classic line are still preserved: the duel scene between Mercutio and Tybalt; the meeting between Romeo (who is not necessarily represented by a single dancer, but given the impression of having multiplied) and Juliet; the appearance of brother Lorenzo, and the death scene.

Yet something shocks in Clug's choreography, beyond the theatricality of the sculptural vision of the collective body onstage and the frequent counterpoint. The choreographer seeks to offer a contrasting and peculiar experience: even if the immortal scores are recognisable, details from other referential areas are superimposed, creating diversions in the flow of the scenic image and in the process of reception. For the viewer, surprise can arise from the melting or vapourising of boundaries by hijacking the canon and, in a way, Shakespeare remains even more ‘Shakespeare’ in the present tense. At the same time, the tragedy of the young people of Verona becomes a poetic meditation on human nature, on silent rebellion, on error and fragility (bodily or inner). The minimalism of the sets, the volume cut by spotlights, the simplicity of the costumes present reminders of the universal value of ideas. Emotion is evident in the fine facial expressions of the protagonists, in the meticulously studied movement and in the details that break the rhythm. To create the atmosphere, contributing fundamentally to the message of the performance, music from Radiohead's Amnesiac and OK Computer guides and complements the dancers’ movements. The gestures left on the surface of the skin, the reduced movements that only seem disruptive, and the desynchronisation and disharmonious movements are in harmony with the inflections of Thom Yorke's voice or with the slow rhythms closer to those of classical music in the introductions of some songs. The critical side of society and politics as well as the poetry about corporeality conveyed by the lyrics of the songs builds, together with the fragments of the myth of Verona's famous couple, a disturbing universe of unspoken looks and words, of the search for identity.

Clug is unafraid to weave key scenes together, which gives the impression of mixing an intimate moment between the two lovers with the suicide episode. The effect is unsettling and poignant. The dancer is sniffing, as if holding an unknown living organism, a lemon whose meanings become fluid with her movements. It could represent the sleeping potion, the forbidden fruit, or the heart of the lover. A spotlight allows all attention to be focused on the protagonists, and in the realm of sound, the silence is interrupted by a distant dog barking and an exasperating sound of rain settling like very fine material over bodies. Eventually, also in a theatrical key, the scene of death is dissolved: one of the screens falls and a spotlight sends the counter-light contours of a statue. All we can make out is the generalised meaning: a man carries the frail body of a woman in his arms. It fades to black, and the scene is repeated; only this time, a woman is carrying the limp body of a man. There is a strong sense that bodies are being portrayed without consistency. Radiohead's lyrics from ‘Like Spinning Plates’ further recapitulate the message: ‘when this just feels like / spinning plates / I’m living in cloud cuckoo land / when this just feels like / spinning plates / our bodies floating down a muddy river / why us? why us?’

The boundary between theatre and dance, perceived in the sense of kinetic discourse, is sometimes concrete, yet still fragile. It is the case in Péter Uray's As You Like It, a show that borders between classical, physical theatre, and gymnastics performed at the Cluj National Theatre in 2014. ²⁵ Touching at times the experimental zone, this performance becomes, in this unique arrangement, a return to the ideas about the great system analysed by Jan Kott in Shakespeare Our Contemporary (1961), an influential reference for Eastern European scholars and theatre practitioners in the 1960s. The theme that wraps the Elizabethan playwright's comedy in meditative drama – a theme constructed as a frame within which the action unfolds – is about the vulnerability of freedom in oppressive countries. Redundant or not, this approach is returning to the creative consciousness of artists more than a decade after the events of 1989.

It may be true that the transition of the Duke's exile and the presence of Duke Frederick into the image of an authoritarian system, with obvious Nazi references, is a hyper-used formula, close to cliché. Yet the Shakespearean universe is enhanced from the perspective of the Urey's vision. Two plans form. On the one hand, there is the court of the usurping duke, who imposes himself through a figurative coup d’état, a space of confinement and imprisonment. On the other hand, there is the Forest of Arden, a refuge, a place where dissidence is protected, as in the past, when the Carpathian forests sheltered those who fought in resistance groups against the Iron Guard ²⁶ or the Communists. Uray's scenic construction focuses on a character: the actor's body, the body of the collective character, a body that is in constant movement. The first scene is performed only in non-verbal language; it is a physical scene that lasts a quarter of an hour. This is how the audience understands that oppressors suddenly invade freedom after the ordeal. The old elite, artists, and intellectuals must take the path of banishment. It is only after such an introduction that the lines appear; but they are segmented too, according to movement. In fact, an ambivalence is created between gesture and word, like two distinct but complementary possibilities of expression. Movement is deconstructed, as is language; what coordinates them, like an inner presence, is breathing. The lines are reduced to a minimum, in favour of a line that starts from Shakespeare, but ends in a complex scenic scaffolding of bodily search, of powerful deaths rendered without words, only from the expressiveness of gestural details. The movement dominates the text: there are Brownian flows, acrobatics combined with leaps, jumps, tumbles, contortions. Elements from the choreographies of Ruth St Denis and Ted Shawn are in turn brought together acrobatics and gymnastics from the techniques of François Delsarte and Jacques-Dalcroze. As a result, the performance is not just choreographed, but becomes a discourse on how movement can shape how an audience visualises a story. All the more difficult perhaps is the approach when the text is canonical. The expressiveness of the actors is overwhelming. The music, in turn, fills the story with dramatic sonorities in which vague reverberations of Hungarian folklore, sadness, strength, or melancholy violin chords mix. Uray's As You Like It is both an adaptation with echoes of Pirandello as well as Shakespeare read through the lens of Eastern European history. However, it is also the creation of a choreographer with a distinguished theatre career. Alongside outstanding directors dedicated to the aesthetics of hybrid forms, he challenges the actor to become a dancer and the audience to be a reader of non-written signs.

Following the choreographic discourses that move away from the source text, integrating Shakespeare with radical new meaning, this final section analyses creations by Piotr Mateusz Wach. Admitting himself to experimenting with movements at the limits of trauma, of the bearable or of physical and psychological resistance, the Polish dancer constructs a personal, even shocking for certain tastes, discourse on bodily limits, on ambiguity and the rewriting of notions of theatre, performativity or body language. Wach's collaborations are mainly in Europe, with artists from England, Iceland, and Germany. In Romania, his performance Richard. The Body of Wrath (Ryszard. Ciało z gniewu) was staged at the National Dance Centre. This production is part of a trilogy of meeting and revisiting the world of Shakespeare. Richard can thus be found alongside Macbeth in Ritual 23 or Paintings from the Death of the Leader (2017) and Caliban in Caliban's Dream (2019). The trance, induced by extreme exhaustion as attempted by the artist, is reminiscent of Marina Abramović's concepts. The body used as an instrument, constantly tested, subject to transformation, a living material, both intimate and public, is the machine through which the relationship with the voice, the breath, and the image is explored. The solo dedicated to Richard is a performance in which the dancer's body is covered with messages referring to the big ideas of the basic text. As the movements build and the rhythm gets stronger and stronger, sweat begins to wipe the letters off the skin. The text, written using an eyeliner, is diluting until it almost disappears. This is a reference to the annihilation of literature, leaving only confused signs and a sense of absurdity.

Another source used in Wach's Richard is the Spanish writer Angelica Lidell's play The Year of Richard. The character's deformed body, the pattern of monstrosity, the symbol of tyranny – elements that transpire from the character outlined by the two playwrights – are used by the dancer to give a scenic profile of a protagonist who is frightening by his dumbness and gestures on the edge of humanity. It is no coincidence that the other two portraits chosen in his performance creations are Caliban, the ‘monster’ from The Tempest, and Macbeth, the Scottish tyrant. Where does this preference for the corporeal vocabulary of mutilation come from? Why the need to analyse the corporeality of the dictator character so closely? One may find an explanation in the sphere of radical experimental arts, especially German or Austrian, if one thinks of Fluxus or the Viennesse Actionists. Yet, one can invoke the more direct line with Jerzy Grotowski's The Laboratory Theatre and the fundamental role of the group in relation to the artists’ opposition during the period Europe was divided by the Iron Curtain. Trying to find out what the boundaries of reality or theatricality are, Wach continues without stopping his research, his body being his own laboratory, as the aesthetics of his choreographies fluctuates. His recent performance Bilderzerstörer contains several passages dedicated to Hamlet and Ophelia. A performance that includes several other performative micro-scenes at the same time, on different layers, Bilderzerstörer sporadically introduces Hamlet and Ophelia – two characters of whom only fragments remain that are lost among the other scores – mingle and recite familiar lines on the move. Ophelia's ‘willow song’ becomes a kind of ditty about those ‘fucking flowers’; and, at one point, she's no longer even a woman, but a man in make-up invoking a travesty (as her role was played in Elizabethan theatre, in fact). Naked, the dancer's body is wrapped only in an enormous plastic sheet. Parodying the classic in this carnivalesque, surrealist universe, it reaches a point where a character portraying a tragicomic and poignant singer delivers a Shakespearean sonnet. In the twenty-first century, amidst improvisation, expression, and semantic links in post-dramatic theatre, Shakespeare has been transformed into a material of ambiguous shapes, reliefs, and contours. Shakespeare of the vague.

Conclusion

The mobility of bodies inevitably implies the mobility of ideas. Freedom of expression and movement has been one of the major effects in the cultural changes that have taken place since the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of communist influence in the Eastern European world. Like ‘Elsinore as a prison’ or ‘Inverness as a tomb’, culture in the Centre and East until the 1990s functioned according to the sequential principle of freeze-thaw. The revolutions of 1989, followed by their transitional periods, opened the door via which art had previously only slipped in, while innovative ideas lay in drawers. If Shakespearean tragedies or comedies were seen on theatre or dance stages before the 1990s, it was because the Bard's work was tolerated on the side of the classical vein. Today, classicism, especially in contemporary dance, has remained a pale wave, which some artists dress up in parody, while others want to forget altogether. Far from being an instrument of propaganda, Shakespeare is like an energy in the hands and bodies of dancers that sets ideas in motion, preserving a shimmer of the time when the creative freedom of the individual was restricted. It is a reason to recover the past under the gaze of the present and a test for our resistance to both canonical and experimental art. Shakespeare is a micro-cellular system in which we find ourselves or in which we lose ourselves, by a single step, a gesture, a breath, for we are the matter dreams are made of.