I Know Why the Caged Bird Dances
By Kivithra Naicker (Guest Writer)
When I think of dancing legends in South Africa, I think of Vincent Mantsoe: a truly rare artist who exudes grace, humility and most of all, the core reason I consider theatre my temple, generosity. He is a generous human being and this translates across both the screen and oceans in his recent dance film CUT (June 2020). The pre-screening conversation between Jomba’s artistic director, Lliane Loots (Durban, South Africa) and Mantsoe (France) left me feeling overwhelmed to have these legends (virtually) in my home in Korea. As I write, I am aware that the critical part of me is overshadowed by emotions and notions of ‘home’- because to those of us who straddle borders, one foot in one country and the other across the world, Mantsoe’s CUT is a lamentation of fear and hope.
I too am cut off in what I jokingly and guiltily call a ‘self-imposed exile,’ unable to leave the country and anxious of what is to come for my loved ones. Mantsoe’s CUT left a lump in my throat days later. My visceral response to his work has reinforced the power of the dancing body; a way to express the inexplicable. In CUT we enter Mantsoe’s studio and as he moves in his work space, I spot the instruments mounted on the wall (umrhubheand uhadi), familiar accoutrements signaling home.
This is a work that was shot entirely by Mantsoe, a feat for an artist who usually performs ‘with’ his audience. I say this because there is an undoubtable exchange of energy between the two; he gives off himself, unboxing vulnerabilities that I (we) may have shelved…for another time. Mpho Molikeng’s sharp soundscape builds on more than just stark images of vast land, it also plays with what sounds like a spirit caught in purgatory. Mantsoe’s movements begin with images of a body adapting; to the sounds, to the space, to the solitude. His body is rooted and his head is cut out of frame. The black box, a recurrence in the film, periodically pushes the dancer out the frame but he resists, reappearing each time…and then all steadiness breaks loose. The music crescendos as a struggle to push through or give in takes over; his movements begin to unravel with franticness and disruption, fighting this clear state of turbulence while being sucked in by a force. As he drips with sweat against a moving soundscape of his resistance, his breath, his guttural sounds; this bird dances because he is not done.
CUT, an offering born out of the current pandemic, is a beacon of hope. In the post-screening talk, Mantsoe vulnerably sheds light on the difficulties of filming himself; the inconceivable nature of not being able to see one’s own neighbour and for many, their families, with no end in sight. The human experience has been put to the ultimate test and Mantsoe echoes sounds of hope because we are all not done. Vincent forever!
