Cédric and Jérôme Nov 15, 2013
by Jim Kent
Cédric Andrieux walks on stage wearing his workout clothes. He puts his gym bag and water bottle down, and gives a run-down of the beginnings of his life in small sentences. It is entirely personal, cinematic in nature, and filled with intimate pauses. He speaks with the “questioning tone” of a child.
Cédric is not going to work out for us. With the help of Jérôme Bel, he will conceive of a way to tell his story really well.
Cédric Andrieux moves through an excerpt of Biped by Merce Cunningham, a choreographer and company he danced with for 8 years. The excerpt is very simple in form, but the syntax of the movement has an impossibility about it. His muscled, tie-dyed unitard does not hide anything: you can see the attempted outcome before the outcome happens, successfully (usually) or not. He rests, doubled over. He's had to work. His hollowed eyes look into yours, subtle smirk forms, and you know he’s regained the breath to speak. He invokes Merce by saying no movement is a repeated experience, every thing is new.
There’s mention of reasons for life choices resulting in great loves. [I’d like to hear more about Leonardo.]
“He’s the hot baby of David Beckham and Daniel Craig,” I write on my program. My date Dylan agrees.
His story is interrupted by my mind and body, which have also been trained to internalize and externalize physicality. Shoulders relax. Hamstring twitches. I judge his breathing choices and am dropped into class or rehearsal.
I’m back. He talks about how he was told what to do by others for many, many years. He talks of choosing to work with choreographers that don’t hurt his body.
He is in love with simply experiencing movement.