Review: Harvest

A Danish and Puerto Rican dancer share their different styles of movement alongside some ponderings and provocations spoken out loud. Like, for example, what would their bodies reveal about their lives if they were dug up from the soil years in the future? How has dancing sculpted their bodies and when do their minds sometimes disconnect from the movements of their limbs? Wearing outfits upcycled from old jumpers and blazers, occasionally planting grass in soil on a vibrating platform, the two female dancers from the Copenhagen company explore muscular sequences of frenzied writhing and jolting, as well as the sounds that a body can make – slapping thighs, knocking knuckles, drumming palms and clicking fingers. 

The rhythms and percussive body parts draw from flamenco dance, which the Puerto Rican dancer has trained in but somehow feels less connected to, feeling more aligned with Puerto Rico’s African-origin bomba style, or a rural egg laying dance which mimics hens, she explains. Some of the poetic passages are a little turgid, and an impressive flamenco display is delayed until the finale, a bit like a musician who insists on performing tunes from their more challenging concept albums before delivering the hits at the end. A disjointed, occasionally frustrating piece with interesting musings on working bodies and the creative process along the way.