The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, March 17, 2017 — 5

This 
Friday 
and 

Saturday, UMS will present 
Betroffenheit, a performance 
that 
combines 
theatre 
and 

dance to tell a grippingly 
honest story of trauma, loss 
and 
addiction. 
With 
five 

contemporary dancers and a 
single protagonist, Kidd Pivot 
and Electric Company Theatre 
come together to create a 

project that mixes spoken word, 
recorded text and movement.

Betroffenheit is a German 

word that does not have an 
exact English translation, but 
it describes a state of extreme 
shock after an event. Due to the 
subject of this piece, it is not 
recommended for children.

Jonathan Young, cofounder 

and artistic director of Electric 
Company Theatre, has a large 
background in acting and is 
best known for his role of 
Nikola Tesla in Sanctuary. He 
started writing Betroffenheit 
in 2014 in collaboration with 
choreographer 
Crystal 
Pite, 

artistic director of the dance 
company Kidd Pivot.

“[Betroffenheit 
sits] 

somewhere between a piece 
of live theatre and a piece of 
contemporary dance,” Young 
said in an interview.

Betroffenheit 
takes 
place 

in the wake of a trauma, 
an 
accident 
that 
occurred 

sometime in the past of the 
male protagonist played by 
Jonathan Young. The narrative 
is about the recovery process, 
as he struggles to deal with 
what he has gone through.

“Voices seem to be attached 

to the fixtures, and the lights, 
and the walls and the doors,” 
Young said. “Audiences get the 
sense that the whole stage in a 
way has been affected by this 
accident and (the protagonist 
is) also, as it turns 
out, 
addicted 

to some kind of 
substance 
that 

he’s 
been 
using 

for relief from this 
trauma.” 

The inspiration 

behind 
the 

project 
stems 

from Young’s own 
personal traumatic 
experiences 
with 

the death of his 
daughter and two 
cousins in a fire.

“You 
don’t 

really have much 
choice but to put 
(that trauma) into words, in an 
attempt to express that because 
it’s on your mind all the time,” 
said Young about his project.

Instead of processing his 

own traumatic events privately, 
Young chose to share this 
experience with others through 
Betroffenheit.

“We 
kind 
of 
have 
a 

responsibility 
as 
artists 
I 

think to turn stuff that feels 
like it can’t be expressed into 
expression,” he said.

Though inspired by real 

events, Betroffenheit aims for 
balance between personal and 
universal experiences. The goal 
is for people to see themselves 
in the performance and for the 
piece to invoke compassion, 
empathy, fear and sadness. 
Young also recognizes that 
there is a considerable taboo 
surrounding this subject, and he 
wishes to erase the sensitivity 
that surrounds events such as 
death. People who have gone 
through a similar traumatic 
event will likely be able to 

relate well to the piece. 

“(Most people) are grateful 

for having seen it because it 
reminds them that they are not 
alone,” Young said.

But, 
surprisingly 
enough, 

humor plays an active role in 
Betroffenheit.

“Humor has a life force that 

is irrepressible. No matter how 
difficult things get in life, humor 
has a way of surviving and 
surprising, and mischief is a real 
driving force in creativity” Young 
said. Combining that which 

is 
traumatic 

and that which 
is 
amusing 

is 
something 

unique 
to 
the 

capabilities 
of 

human nature.

With so many 

layers, 
this 
is 

the type of show 
that 
should 

be 
seen 
more 

than 
once, 
in 

which 
audience 

members 
are 

sure to witness 
things that they 
missed the first 
time.

“I hope people will want to see 

it again ... I’m just going to leave 
it at that,” Young concluded.

Currently, Young and Pite are 

working on another dance and 

theatre hybrid with Nederlands 
Dans Theater that takes the 
ideas of Betroffenheit a little 
further and is projected to be 
ready by 2019. 

HOW CULTURED ARE 
YOU? VERY? WOW, 

US TOO. JOIN US, 

MAYBE?

Interested in writing for Daily Arts? 
Email arts@michigandaily.com for 

an application. Questions/concerns? 

Don’t hesitate to reach out.

Betroffenheit: Harrowing 
performance of theatre

Kidd Pivot’s dance/theatre hybrid a sobering, layered experience

FALLON GATES

For the Daily

Betroffenheit 
by Kidd Pivot 

& Electric 
Company 
Theatre

Power Center

March 17 & 18 

@ 8 P.M. 

$26 - $46

COURTESY OF WENDY D PHOTOGRAPHY

On Max Richter’s ‘Sleep’

It’s quiet here.
Outside, 
in 
the 
frigid 

darkness, nothing moves. No 
birds sing, no deer wander, 
no headlights cut through the 
clear air. Even the wind seems 
to be hushed. Somewhere over 
the trees the moon silently 
hangs 
suspended 
above 

the wisps of cloud. In the 
apartment around me, each 
of its inhabitants respire in 
steady, relaxed tempos. The 
world is sleeping.

It’s 5:19 a.m. and everything 

is still.

For the past several hours, 

essentially all night, I have 
been 
immersed 
in 
Max 

Richter’s composition “Sleep.” 
Listening to this piece is like 
a sort of trance — once you 
enter into it, you stop noticing 
it’s there. The music gradually 
melds 
into 
the 
scenery, 

fades into the background of 
whatever you are doing and 
enters into you. It isn’t so much 
doing anything as it is simply 
being: being present, being 
absent, 
being 
everywhere 

and nowhere at once. 
Its 

principal characteristic is its 
inexplicable, elusive feeling 
of 
grounded 
placelessness. 

It invites you into its care 
and envelops your tired mind 
in a soft embrace. It hovers 
at 
the 
periphery 
of 
your 

senses. “Sleep” doesn’t ask for 
anything from you. It doesn’t 
demand your attention or your 
love or your hate, or even your 
recognition. It goes on whether 
you’re listening or not. To try 
to analyze it would be beside 
the point.

“Sleep” is a few years old 

now, but to me it still feels 
relevant. I won’t say that it’s 
fresh — applying such an 
adjective to music which is so 
simple, constructed with such 
an economy of means, would 
be unjust — but it isn’t dated, 
and the ideas that Richter put 
into the piece might even be 
more important today than 
they were when it was first 
composed. The entirety of 
“Sleep” is slow, unelaborate 
music scored for piano, strings, 
voice and electronics. There 
are no words. There is no 
drama. The piece lasts for 
eight hours, moving along at 

a gradual, unhurried pace. 
It is composed to last the 
average amount of time that 
it takes the human brain to 
complete a healthy night of 
sleep. In Richter’s words, it is a 
“personal lullaby for a frenetic 
world. A manifesto for a slower 
pace of existence.”

But as far as manifestos 

go, it’s rather innocuous. It’s 
difficult to say what it feels 
like to listen to “Sleep.” It has a 
certain quality of timelessness 
(in the sense of time being 
stopped) and displacement, but 
there’s more to it than that. Lost 
in its soundworld, I can’t seem 
to shake the feeling that I’m 
walking on some distant lunar 
surface, wandering in an alien 
landscape. There is at once an 
otherness and an intimacy with 

the self. In the wide sonorities 
of the piano and the strings, 
Richter leaves space for the 
listener’s thoughts to roam 
freely. Suggestive of nothing, 
it opens up distances to fill 
with your own expression. 
Creation and form at your 
fingertips, godlike, you can 
mentally wander through the 
music in search of whatever it 
is you need to find. But more 
than anything, when you listen 
to “Sleep,” you feel somehow 
totally alone.

In this respect, the piece is 

like the act of sleeping itself. 
Slumber is by its nature a 
solitary act, and even those 
of us who share a bed with 
someone else must eventually 
cross 
the 
threshold 
into 

the 
dreamworld 
alone. 
As 

with sleep’s inevitable and 
permanent cousin, each of us 
must sail into the undiscovered 
country on a solitary voyage, 
with 
neither 
maps 
nor 

guidance.

Heavily 
influenced 
by 

minimalism, 
the 
textures 

and ideas of “Sleep” are very 
simple. For minutes on end the 

cello may play a single pitch 
while the piano slowly cycles 
through chords in an even 
rhythm. The violin may play 
all of two pitches for an entire 
movement. An elegiac voice 
melody may played on loop 
until it ceases to be noticed.

Richter, 
a 
German-born 

British 
composer, 
is 
no 

neophyte to these minimalist 
techniques. For over a decade 
he 
has 
been 
making 
an 

impression as a composer who 
isn’t afraid to apply the tenets 
of the minimalist movement 
to genres outside of classical. 
He is known for his work in 
collaborative projects, as well 
as for performing and for 
his film scores. His minimal 
aesthetic makes him accessible 
to 
both 
regular 
classical 

listeners and to many who 
might not otherwise listen 
to classical music. For this 
reason his work can be found 
in wide-ranging places, from 
the 
Netflix 
documentary 

series 
“Chef’s 
Table” 
to 

the Royal Opera House in 
London. 
My 
reintroduction 

to “Sleep” was instigated a 
few weeks ago in New York, 
when I encountered it as part 
of a video involved with the 
Mysterious 
Landscapes 
of 

Hercules Segers exhibit at the 
Met (also featuring the voice of 
John Malkovich).

I recognized it then, but 

the feeling is even stronger 
now, 
that 
something 
about 

“Sleep” 
is 
incomprehensibly, 

inexplicably sad. Throughout 
the composition, there is an 
unplaceable feeling of loss, some 
sort of absence of something 
I hadn’t known was missing. 
I just can’t quite place where 
this feeling comes from, but 
it permeates the entirety of 
the work. But even in sadness, 
“Sleep” reflects a world that is 
calm, peaceful and entirely our 
own. Everywhere in “Sleep,” 
the music pulls you towards 
the realm of dreams. It beckons 
you into a world where you are 
unable to be touched by the 
troubles of reality. It creates a 
space in which you are free from 
care and obligation, where you 
may go to rest your weary head.

It’s calling me now. I think 

I’ll answer.

CLASSICAL MUSIC COLUMN

DAYTON HARE

MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW

Nowadays, it’s tough to get 
excited about another sighting of 
The Weeknd.
Some time between the 2016 
release of his moody, sporadic 
pop spectacle, “Starboy;” the 
February launch of the album’s 
touring counterpart, which is 
set to hit sixteen countries in its 
first three months; his alleged 
swap from “dating” model Bella 
Hadid to strutting around the 
world with actress/singer Selena 
Gomez; and the recent revealing 
of his joint clothing venture with 
international fast-fashion house 
H&M; I began to feel exhausted 
of rooting for Abel Tesfaye to 
succeed.
After all, his superstardom is 
no longer a coincidence: The 
Weeknd is a now strategic pop 
machine, clearly evolved from 
the blacklight-illuminated-bed-
room crooner who we first met 
on “House Of Balloon.” He seems 
to put out content according to a 
carefully plotted schedule rather 
than based on his own artistic 
patience, a fact that haunts my 
fandom and consistently tests it.
From this perspective, it’s easy 
to dismiss The Weeknd’s music 
video for “I Feel It Coming” — 
the Daft-Punk-assisted finale to 
“Starboy,” and his most recent 
radio hit — as the uninspired, 
natural conclusion to a series 
of (mostly) disconnected short 
films that were clearly churned 
out only to promote the album 
(and now tour).
The video’s vintage space theme, 
initiated right in its opening 
credits, is such an obvious choice 
for a Daft Punk feature, as is the 
revival of a Michael Jackson 

jacket for a pop music video. 
Plus, its “plot” is seemingly non-
existent until almost halfway 
through — the first two minutes 

meagerly show Abel dancing solo 
against an exceptionally moody, 
intergalactic sunset.
Still, “I Feel It Coming,” much 
like The Weeknd himself, has 
a way of wooing you when you 
most wish it wouldn’t. Sure, 
some of the music video’s props 
are played out, but Abel looks 
damn good in that jacket, and his 
dance moves aren’t bad either. 
Who cares if the gorgeous back-
drop is computer-generated, or 
if we never find out how The 
Weeknd landed upon it in the 
first place?
I’ve watched this music video 
dozens of times now, and though 
I’m still not sure exactly what 
happens between Abel and his 
Medusa-inspired space prin-

cess, that’s fine: I keep watching 
anyway. “I Feel It Coming” is 
one of the strongest bubblegum 
pop tunes in recent memory, 
somehow managing to effort-
lessly mesh old-school coolness 
with space-bot futurism all while 
maintaining a facade of minimal-
ism.
And as for its visual accompani-
ment, the nonchalance with 
which this music video animates 
The Weeknd’s signature shtick; 
its smirking presentation of him, 
carefully-shaded, overly-self-
indulgent, glitter-coated and 
all, for five straight minutes, his 
mere presence and slight smile 
acting as the only hook; the 
way that this video is hollow, 
yet pretends to be bigger than 
itself, acting artsy without add-
ing much substance, bringing in 
arm candy without giving her a 
name or even a character; these 
traits make Warren Fu’s short 
film feel perfectly fit to help fans 
visualize “I Feel It Coming.” 
Perhaps we should be calling it a 
masterpiece.

- SALVATORE DIGIOIA

XO

“I Feel It Coming”

The Weeknd

XO

Betroffenheit is 
a German word 
that does not have 
an exact English 
translation, but it 
describes a state 
of extreme shock 

after an event

Betroffenheit 

takes place in the 
wake of a trauma, 

an accident 
that occurred 
sometime in the 

past

COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW