From Whim W’Him, Intercourse Kittens and Sex Kills

The benefit of three new works from Olivier Wever’s Whim W’Him party team filled the Intiman Theatre on every night whenever thawing heaps of slush in Seattle roads mounted to your knees. Boots are not strictly a fashion option. “Cast the initial Rock in Twenty Twelve” came with plenty of temperature of its very very own, though.

Two faster works, La Langue de l’amour and Flower Festival, led as much as the night’s major showcase, thrOwn, but that is not to imply they weren’t as appreciatively gotten. If you’re during the theater as a few, you should be careful exactly how loudly you clap for the wickedly titled La Langue de l’amour, should your partner takes it being a passive-aggressive hint of some sort.

A solo en pointe tease by Chalnessa Eames in a deranged-pixie wig, Langue employs pantomime and, in this context, the not-so-sublimated eroticism associated with the allegro motion of the Domenico Scarlatti harpsichord sonata as Wevers wrings every glistening fall of intercourse appeal out from the ballerina’s formal accuracy (a gauzy wisp of costume by Christine Joly de Lotbiniиre helps with that work). Typically, ballet prevents conjuring within the awe that is illicit whenever Eames bends and looks right straight straight back through her feet during the market. Through charade, she makes a pretty determined, detailed proposition of delights—Oh my, whipped cream?—in the offing in the event that item of desire (a limelight chosen someone when you look at the market) calls her. Läs mer