Thriller

I went to see Thriller last night at the Lyric on Shaftesbury Avenue. I had heard that the musical was a tribute to the music of MJ rather than a story of his life. My friend Nancy and I had been talking about going since last July. Finally we managed to park our butts in said theatre seats as the house lights went down and the disco lights came up on four men wearing black afro wigs and shaking their groove thang. A short kid with a natural afro followed them. As he got ready to sing, I wondered:

What’s it gonna be? Ben? I’ll Be There? Blame it on the Boogie?

He opened his mouth and out floated … Music and Me.

Cool, I thought. It really is going to be a tribute.


From there on in, we were not disappointed. The cast on stage delivered song, after song, ebullient and effervescent as if they were singing and dancing the tunes for the very first time and not the 7045th. They sang songs I did not know as well all the hits. Backed up by excellent set and lighting, the show focused wholly on entertaining the bejesus out of us. Good ol’ fashion showbiz entertainment. Which whatever your opinion of Michael Jackson is, is what he left us as his legacy.

So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

Sutra

I've just come back from seeing Sutra at Sadlers Wells. Of the current Sadlers' programme, it was the one show I was most anticipating seeing. The combination of Shaolin monks, Antony Gormley design and contemporary dance posed an interesting challenge and I was curious to see what the outcome would be.

I don't go see many dance shows these days because I have become super picky. It's not something I'm proud of but rather the by-product of having watched dance shows since I was five. It actually started earlier when I was a toddler but I don't remember those shows even though my mum was in them.

As I sat watching the theatrics of Sutra, I tried not to be uncharitable in my thoughts. I looked for the bright spots. The clear lines. The light humour. The interesting idea of putting a show together as if it was a Lego set. The visual synchronicity of the monks in dark suits. I did like some of the images. I tried hard to like the rest. But I had to try. It didn't set me on fire.

Before we went into the show, my friend and I had a chat about dance choreographers. We discussed (in our opinion) which current choreographers rated on the world stage and which were big locally. We tried in vain to list more than a handful from memory. We couldn't. As we both work in the dance industry this means we officially suck at our jobs.

You know what,? I said. You know why we can't think of anyone apart from one or two?

My friend looked askance. No. Why?

Because there aren't any that are so amazing that we remember them.

It occurred to me this week after Michael Jackson's death and also Pina Bauschs' that dance has lost two of its brightest sparks. Jackson was a superlative dancer. He had it and he shared it and made us all want to dance as well. Pina was brilliant too. She plumbed our murky human depths and conjured up some of the most beautiful and eloquent imagery onstage that I have seen in contemporary dance. Both were pioneers in their own way. Both of them set me alight when I watched them.

The term Sutra means (according to Wikipedia), a rope or thread that holds things together. I looked for this thread in the performance tonight and I saw only what I see too often in dance shows. Nothing holding anything together apart from a few gimmicks and a lot of hot air. It was entertainment I guess but it wasn't enough for me.

I want the real deal. Where is it? Who is it?

Thank You Michael

Apart from death and taxes, I think another possible truism in life is that sometimes you don't know what you value until it's gone. With his death, I think Michael Jackson has reminded billons of people around the globe of this.

If you had asked me a few weeks ago whether I was a Michael Jackson fan, I probably would've said that I liked his music growing up but did not really consider myself a fan. The circus surrounding his personal life (actually did he ever have a personal life) left me cold and for a long time, it seemed that his name was synonymous with scandal rather than music. Even with the announcement of his impending tour dates the media focus was on his health, his wealth, body doubles and whether or not the whole thing was going to be a scam. Not about the man and his music.

Now he is dead and suddenly, all the scandal that surrounded him has melted away (for now) and the music has re-emerged. We're now reminded, post humously, of the brilliant legacy that he has left us. We've remembered why we loved him in the first place.

And I have been reminded of the hours and hours I spent as a kid and teenager singing his songs and making up dances with my friends. How at school discos, the girls would dress like Madonna but try to dance like Michael. How all the music videos I watched on the weekends as a teenager owed much of their format to his vision. I miss those less cynical times and perhaps he did too.

I realised Michael was also very much in my present. Billie Jean will always get me on the dance floor. And I confess I have a few of his ballads on my ipod.

I didn't realise it till now. I'm a fan. I'm sorry it took me so long.

Thank you Michael. For everything.