“Snow White”
Na ZDB
22 e 23 de Abril às 21:30
“snow white” de Ann Liv Young
com Ann Liv Young, Isabel Lewis, Michael Guerrero
Na sequência do trabalho que o NEGÓCIO tem desenvolvido com base em residências para criação nas artes performativas, Ann Liv Young, jovem irreverente coreógrafa americana, que no circuito internacional da dança tem suscitado opiniões controversas, vem à ZDB realizar uma residência e simultaneamente apresentar a sua mais recente criação “Snow White”.
Esta é a primeira oportunidade do público português contactar com o universo mirabolante e eléctrico de Ann Liv Young, conhecendo uma Branca de Neve subversiva, transgressora, despida e muito pop!
“Snow White”::
[…] Em «Snow White», Ann Liv Young não conta exactamente a história da Branca de Neve. Ou se a conta, fá-lo à sua maneira. Cinco raparigas sem qualquer pudor destroem todo o lado infantil dado por Walt Disney, abraçam um universo próximo de Robert Walser mas menos existencialista, despem-se de qualquer preconceito e roupas, recuperam todos os êxitos dos anos 80 mais as revisitações balofas do pop-pipoca, e saltam muito, gritam muito, cantam muito, falam muito, divertem-se muito e divertem-nos muito (ou quase…).
Uma Branca de Neve sem anões mas com um Príncipe feito por uma lésbica que nos pede a maior das ingenuidades porque não se sentiria bem a fazer de homem, uma Bruxa Má que vive apaixonada pela Branca de Neve (e quem achava que Woody Allen já tinha destruído a frieza da Bruxa ao dar-lhe um período menstrual em «Annie Hall», não está bem a ver esta bruxa dominatrix) e uma pobre rapariga que de ingénua não tem nada, não se coíbe de usar o godemiche live, colored e devidamente lubrificado, de apelar ao amor livre, de ler uns diálogos surreais num francês com sotaque escritos em minúsculos cartões, de fazer hara-kiri com uma espada e de cuspir para o chão umas cinquenta vezes.
Sim, não há discurso crítico que resista a tamanha perversão dos códigos. E também há uma fórmula que passado meia hora se esgota e não sabe como sair do caos nuclear que criou. Mas é um espectáculo que contraria o estado de espírito de um contexto cultural que sobrevive num apagamento, enfado e displicência descomprometida. É um espectáculo que arrisca, não pela penetração explícita com o godemiche ou o uso de aeróbica em vez de virtuosas e transcendentes coreografias, mas pelo modo como se autodestrói. Nada se pode levar muito a sério quando a Branca de Neve seduz o príncipe com uns versos retirados do «Cuts both ways» da Gloria Estefan. […]
Tiago Bartolomeu Costa
Texto escrito com o apoio do Programa de Apoio à Dança do Serviço de Música da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian.
NEGÓCIO Abril_ Residência para criação
com Ann Liv Young, Michael Guerrero, Isabel Lewis.
APOIO: Programa de Apoio à Dança do Serviço de Música da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian
Dias 22 e 23 de Abril às 21:30 na ZDB R Barroca, n 59
Entrada 10€
Reservas: tel. 213430205 e reservas
Na ZDB
22 e 23 de Abril às 21:30
“snow white” de Ann Liv Young
com Ann Liv Young, Isabel Lewis, Michael Guerrero
Na sequência do trabalho que o NEGÓCIO tem desenvolvido com base em residências para criação nas artes performativas, Ann Liv Young, jovem irreverente coreógrafa americana, que no circuito internacional da dança tem suscitado opiniões controversas, vem à ZDB realizar uma residência e simultaneamente apresentar a sua mais recente criação “Snow White”.
Esta é a primeira oportunidade do público português contactar com o universo mirabolante e eléctrico de Ann Liv Young, conhecendo uma Branca de Neve subversiva, transgressora, despida e muito pop!
“Snow White”::
[…] Em «Snow White», Ann Liv Young não conta exactamente a história da Branca de Neve. Ou se a conta, fá-lo à sua maneira. Cinco raparigas sem qualquer pudor destroem todo o lado infantil dado por Walt Disney, abraçam um universo próximo de Robert Walser mas menos existencialista, despem-se de qualquer preconceito e roupas, recuperam todos os êxitos dos anos 80 mais as revisitações balofas do pop-pipoca, e saltam muito, gritam muito, cantam muito, falam muito, divertem-se muito e divertem-nos muito (ou quase…).
Uma Branca de Neve sem anões mas com um Príncipe feito por uma lésbica que nos pede a maior das ingenuidades porque não se sentiria bem a fazer de homem, uma Bruxa Má que vive apaixonada pela Branca de Neve (e quem achava que Woody Allen já tinha destruído a frieza da Bruxa ao dar-lhe um período menstrual em «Annie Hall», não está bem a ver esta bruxa dominatrix) e uma pobre rapariga que de ingénua não tem nada, não se coíbe de usar o godemiche live, colored e devidamente lubrificado, de apelar ao amor livre, de ler uns diálogos surreais num francês com sotaque escritos em minúsculos cartões, de fazer hara-kiri com uma espada e de cuspir para o chão umas cinquenta vezes.
Sim, não há discurso crítico que resista a tamanha perversão dos códigos. E também há uma fórmula que passado meia hora se esgota e não sabe como sair do caos nuclear que criou. Mas é um espectáculo que contraria o estado de espírito de um contexto cultural que sobrevive num apagamento, enfado e displicência descomprometida. É um espectáculo que arrisca, não pela penetração explícita com o godemiche ou o uso de aeróbica em vez de virtuosas e transcendentes coreografias, mas pelo modo como se autodestrói. Nada se pode levar muito a sério quando a Branca de Neve seduz o príncipe com uns versos retirados do «Cuts both ways» da Gloria Estefan. […]
Tiago Bartolomeu Costa
Texto escrito com o apoio do Programa de Apoio à Dança do Serviço de Música da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian.
NEGÓCIO Abril_ Residência para criação
com Ann Liv Young, Michael Guerrero, Isabel Lewis.
APOIO: Programa de Apoio à Dança do Serviço de Música da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian
Dias 22 e 23 de Abril às 21:30 na ZDB R Barroca, n 59
Entrada 10€
Reservas: tel. 213430205 e reservas
Entrevista na Time Out New York
Pure as the driven snow?
Hell, no! At least not Ann Liv Young’s Snow White.
Ann Liv Young, just 26, has garnered as many rabid admirers as detractors. Her provocative and visually arresting brand of dance-theater—vulgar, raunchy, funny, earsplittingly loud—is a jolt to the senses. In her streamlined new show, Snow White, Young (with Michael Guerrero as the Queen and Narrator, and Liz Santoro as the Prince) dances, has sex with a dildo, screams her head off and sings along to music by Styx, Beyoncé, Mary J. Blige and Pat Benatar. A graduate of Virginia’s Hollins University, the North Carolina native may enjoy making a spectacle of herself onstage, but in person, with her lilting Southern accent and impeccable manners, she’s practically a debutante. She recently spoke about her latest project at a diner near the Kitchen, where her newest version of Snow White will do its best to shock the hell out of you. Or not. She’s fine either way.
Why Snow White?
I wanted to do a children’s story simply because of all the controversy there always is with the shows. Usually, no children are allowed, or you can only be a certain age to get in. I just wanted to do a children’s story because I knew that it was going to be a lot more gruesome than most stories that aren’t for children. I started reading every version I could get my hands on. The story’s pretty simple. It’s not even really exciting. So I was kind of like, Lord, how am I going to do this? Because it’s kind of boring in a way. Especially when you’re used to making up your own stories. I felt like it was going to hinder me, but then I was like, whatever. I’m just going to go for it.
Did you want to try a new approach?
I was really interested in this idea of the woman who’s looking for a prince—though really, the prince is looking for her. She has a very messed up relationship with her mom. There are all these dwarfs that are clearly in love with her because she’s clearly in love with them, if you want to look at it that way. So I mostly just wanted to play with the specifics of, it’s an old children’s story. How could it apply to a situation that’s happening today? And I wanted to be Snow White for a lot of different reasons. I’m really interested in the idea of how people view me in the work.
What do you mean?
There’s this stigma attached to the work or to me. I don’t go to shows, and I don’t really hang out with other choreographers, so there’s this idea that I’m only interested in my work. I wanted to play with that. Snow White clearly cares about everyone but herself. But it’s me. And I clearly care about only myself and nobody else. [Laughs] I really wanted to take those two things and not so intentionally mesh them, but just have them in my head.
Snow White premiered in France. How did it go?
It was good. It was stressful, to be totally honest with you. I could definitely go into great detail but I won’t, only because a lot of the women that I’m not working with anymore would probably take me to court if I said terrible things about them. I [since] changed the show because, number one, we had a lot of money there, and I could afford to pay five women, a documentary artist and an assistant—we had a guy with a camera filming every rehearsal. We’re making a documentary. We’re going to show it in Paris in July and then in Berlin in August. We’ll show Snow White there, too, but it will be different—maybe Isabel Lewis will play me. I can’t do every single show. I want to have somebody who’s an understudy sort of person.
Would you elaborate on why you made changes?
We had a lot of money for the project. In New York, we’re clearly not getting as much money to do all the shows so I thought, I want to narrow it down, and I want three really good people who can do the parts of six. For various reasons, Emily [Wexler] is not in it anymore and of the two people she suggested, I knew that after Snow White I wasn’t going to work with them ever again. I also really like to work project by project. I feel like the work wants different people, and it wants different things. It’s nice to have Liz, who is so consistent. She’s such a hard worker. That’s great. And I’m very thankful for that. As long as she wants to keep doing the work, I would imagine she’ll continue to be in it. But I think people get involved—they see the work, they love it, they think that they really like me because of whatever reason, and then they start doing it are like, Fuck. Or they don’t agree with how I work. Or they think I’m constantly rehearsing…
Do they perhaps assume that you’re a more casual director than you are?
Oh, I’m sure. And the thing is that I’m really honestly a very fair person. I feel like I communicate as best as I possibly can and I’m always saying, “There’s a problem? Talk to me.” It’s all about having a solution. I like to solve problems, and that’s what makes the work. I feel like there are certain people who can’t do that, who can’t communicate and be up-front about how they feel. I can’t work with people like that. It’s been interesting for me to see what works and what doesn’t and what I like and what I don’t like. It’s hard to find somebody that you love working with—for instance, Emily—and then realizing, Why isn’t this working anymore? It’s frustrating in a way, and it’s also made me think that maybe I am a terrible person. But I sit back and I have people like Liz and Michael who are like, “No, no. That’s not what’s happening. There’s no right way to make this thing. There’s no wrong way.” Every project is different, and I don’t ever want to be in a position where I just make things in a very specific way and that’s that. Someone said that when I work with people, they kind of start out as babies or toddlers, and as we work they get older and older and then they suddenly see themselves as teenagers and rebel. They want me to need them, I think.
So it’s a parent thing?
Yeah. I don’t work in the way where I’m like, “You’re so great, you’re so wonderful, what would I do without you, the work couldn’t survive without you.” I don’t believe any of those things. The work can survive without any of them. There was a point in Paris, where I almost tossed two of them. I didn’t. I don’t know. I want them to succeed, I want them to pull through. For me, the struggle is such a part of making the work.
Do they have to somehow break through to a different level?
I don’t know. With Emily, I see something specific in her that I really appreciate and so I work with that. I set monologues on her and I’m very specifically writing everything for her, making the movement for her and making the costume for her. It’s like I’m handmaking a dress that won’t fit anybody the way it’ll fit her. I care about her enough to do that. I think people don’t see it that way—especially when they get to the point where they’re like, “You don’t need me, so fuck off.”
You have really been through something!
Yeah. It’s hell! [Laughs] But it’s okay because I feel like I learned a lot. Paris was great in so many ways. We sold out five shows, we got tons of press. Some people hated it, some people loved it. The show is booked this entire year. I just have to figure out a better way of doing this so that I won’t die of stress by the time I’m 45.
You only have three characters in the production now—Snow White, the Queen and the Prince. Why?
I wanted to focus on this triangle of Snow White, her mom and this guy. I always like to take my life and stick it in the story somehow. So I have a very interesting relationship with my mother and Michael and myself—it’s quite a triangle at times, and I wanted to play with that. It’s also very strange because Michael is playing the Queen. My mom is probably going to read this and be so sad, but in a way the Queen is a lot like her in some stupid way. I chose the story because it was very similar to my life in some upside-down sort of way. But it wasn’t like I read the story of Snow White and thought, “Oh my God. This is me!” [Laughs]
What do you have in common with Snow White?
Probably nothing. We like animals. She talks to the deer and the rabbits and they all love her and eat out of her hands. She has a sort of yearning. She’s very hopeful. I think I’m certainly hopeful. I like her style. She wears the same dress every day, and I’m totally into that. The idea of a superhero never having to change her clothes is very cool. I feel like she’s very understanding. She doesn’t give up. She’s determined. She runs through the woods away from the hunter whose trying to take her heart. And she’s very domestic, which I feel I am in a lot of ways. She wants to clean for all the dwarves and she wants to be useful.
In the brothers Grimm’s version, the Queen actually dances to death. Does your Queen?
Not really but in Paris, she did kind of dance to death in a way—we did a duet to Whitney Houston’s “I’m Every Woman” and it was like a hard-core, high-powered, bust-our-asses dance. At a show in Amsterdam, I screamed at Michael the whole time. I threw a microphone at him and broke it, and the audience just died. They thought it was hilarious. That’s the thing: People don’t know if it’s pretend or if it’s real, and they’re intrigued. They come up to me afterwards and are like, “Are you really angry?” And I say, “I don’t know.” I don’t ever tell. But that night, I had Michael leave the stage to find me another microphone. When he walked back out, he just looked like somebody had just called his mother a whore 500 times. And the audience just died laughing.
Photograph: Nicholas StriniBut he knows what you’re doing, right?
Yes, but it affects him because he’s a human being. And to watch the audience watch him deal with this and laugh at him is so intense. In Paris, Emily hit me in the face with a sword, really hard, by accident. I played with that; I said something like, “You just hit me in the face. You fucking bitch.” It hurt, but it was also no big deal and she was just mortified and some of the people in the audience really felt for her. In Amsterdam, the dildo fell off during the middle of the show and it’s a vital part of the show—it has to be on her—so I said, “Michael get your ass over there and tape it!” The audience lost it. It’s funny to see what people think is funny. They like it when people are humiliated.
It’s sad, right? Sometimes I think what you’re doing is a theatrical version of Howard Stern.
It’s interesting. It’s like I tell Michael every day: “I hate people so much.” I feel like my work makes me not want to be around people. I lose faith. I work with them, and I see such ugly sides, and then I see these audiences and I see what they respond to, and it makes me so sad. It’s not everybody. There are people who I feel really see the work very clearly and appreciate it for the same reasons I do. I also appreciate the people who can laugh at everything. I don’t really have expectations in that way, but there are some days when I’m so sick of people. Most days. It’s terrible. Michael’s always like, “Ann Liv, people aren’t that bad.”
It is particularly disturbing to watch men watch your work.
You have no idea. You should see some of the e-mails I get. We sell DVDs [of the shows]. This guy gave me feedback: “The sound quality’s not that good, you should really hire a professional. And you really shouldn’t have a sex scene wearing tennis shoes. You’re really beautiful. If you’re ever lonely…” I get e-mails like this constantly. Just men being like, “If any of your dancers are lonely…” They’re men in Europe! I write them back something like, “It was supposed to be an imitation of a B-movie. The quality was supposed to be low. The tennis shoes were supposed to be on. I appreciate your comments.”
What is the extent of the sex angle in Snow White?
It’s not bad at all. I have to say, it’s a pretty nontrashy piece.
Why is it still so important?
I’m doing it because it’s Snow White. She’s fucking having sex onstage and the Prince has a huge dildo! Clearly, it’s almost cartoon.
Why is penetration necessary?
I want it to be visible that [the dildo] goes in me. Some people can’t even tell. It’s kind of like in Michael when Trenton [Duerkson] masturbates. Some people don’t notice and some people do, and I like that dialogue of “Did he or didn’t he?” I’m interested in that curiosity or investigation or skepticism. And there have been nights where I didn’t do it because I was bleeding or I was in pain or I didn’t want to. One night, we ran out of K-Y Jelly, and I was like, there’s no way and I faked it. I just go with it in this piece. I do whatever I feel like. One night I stopped the show. I was like, “I’m tired and don’t want to do this anymore.”
What happened?
Nothing. The audience thought it was hilarious. Michael said, “Ann Liv, come on.” And we kept going. It’s fun to be able to do what you want to do. I feel the more I’m able to do what I want to do, the better the work gets. For me. Better as in I’m challenged more, I learn more.
You also don’t want to tame yourself?
No. I definitely feel like I’m becoming less and less tame. Some people might see this and think, Oh, she’s not as crazy as I thought she’d be, just because every show’s so different, but in Snow White I feel like I have full confidence in doing whatever I want. I don’t care what people think. That’s bloated. Of course, I care what people think in a way, but I think I’m just performing a lot so I’m more confident. I know the work and I like the work and I like being in the work. I know that the people I’m performing with aren’t going to be mad if I say, “You’re a fucking bitch” onstage. They understand. And that’s nice—to feel like it’s a playground where everyone’s on the same page and you’re not going to really hurt anyone’s feelings. I’ve said terrible things to Michael. I’ve called him a retard. I’ve told him that he’s the worst technician ever. He still dates me. We did a show in Brussels, and I just reamed the sound guy. We told him before that I was going to do it, and we said, “It’s pretend, it’s pretend!” And he was just so upset after the show. It was horrible. I was devastated. I felt so bad. I talked to him for a half an hour, but there was nothing I could do. He thought it was about him. It’s crazy. Sometimes [it’s like] I’ve created a monster.
Does it feel like you have two personalities?
I don’t know. I’m assertive in life and I can be very aggressive. Onstage there’s also this charisma that keeps me from being the worst person on earth, but it’s on that edge and people are like, “Is she horrible or is she great?” They can’t figure it out.
I don’t want to offend you, but I think the work is like that, too.
Oh, totally. I’m sure. I don’t value it in a way that’s like, “I make good work. Or I make bad work.” I don’t even think about it like that. The thing is that I don’t care if somebody thinks my work is bad. I don’t know what that means. I’m sure that, in some ways, maybe it is bad. But I’m sure it’s also good if we’re going to talk about things in those terms. You know what I mean? It just is what it is. Sometimes I don’t know what it is. It depends on the day.
Is this a feminist piece?
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck it is. I mean, some people would say it is. We’re actually doing two shows in Italy this year, and one is a women’s-gender yadda yadda. These people are really into the piece, which I find very interesting. It makes sense that they would be, but I don’t know. I feel like this piece is so open-ended. I guess I don’t really see it as a feminist piece. I see it more as a solo. I have so much control in it, and I’m orchestrating everything. Usually I’m the only one who fucks up. The dancers pretty much never do anything wrong, but I mess up all the time and when I do, I will usually blame it on somebody else in the show. And say, “Michael, replay the music.” But it’s really, really quick. I have so much control that it’s almost overwhelming. It’s almost like the only way that this show can work is if I have that much control and if I’m that aggressive. I think that’s what I’m interested in right now. I’m playing with control.
por Gia Kourlas
in Time Out New York / Issue 597 : Mar 8–14, 2007
Hell, no! At least not Ann Liv Young’s Snow White.
Ann Liv Young, just 26, has garnered as many rabid admirers as detractors. Her provocative and visually arresting brand of dance-theater—vulgar, raunchy, funny, earsplittingly loud—is a jolt to the senses. In her streamlined new show, Snow White, Young (with Michael Guerrero as the Queen and Narrator, and Liz Santoro as the Prince) dances, has sex with a dildo, screams her head off and sings along to music by Styx, Beyoncé, Mary J. Blige and Pat Benatar. A graduate of Virginia’s Hollins University, the North Carolina native may enjoy making a spectacle of herself onstage, but in person, with her lilting Southern accent and impeccable manners, she’s practically a debutante. She recently spoke about her latest project at a diner near the Kitchen, where her newest version of Snow White will do its best to shock the hell out of you. Or not. She’s fine either way.
Why Snow White?
I wanted to do a children’s story simply because of all the controversy there always is with the shows. Usually, no children are allowed, or you can only be a certain age to get in. I just wanted to do a children’s story because I knew that it was going to be a lot more gruesome than most stories that aren’t for children. I started reading every version I could get my hands on. The story’s pretty simple. It’s not even really exciting. So I was kind of like, Lord, how am I going to do this? Because it’s kind of boring in a way. Especially when you’re used to making up your own stories. I felt like it was going to hinder me, but then I was like, whatever. I’m just going to go for it.
Did you want to try a new approach?
I was really interested in this idea of the woman who’s looking for a prince—though really, the prince is looking for her. She has a very messed up relationship with her mom. There are all these dwarfs that are clearly in love with her because she’s clearly in love with them, if you want to look at it that way. So I mostly just wanted to play with the specifics of, it’s an old children’s story. How could it apply to a situation that’s happening today? And I wanted to be Snow White for a lot of different reasons. I’m really interested in the idea of how people view me in the work.
What do you mean?
There’s this stigma attached to the work or to me. I don’t go to shows, and I don’t really hang out with other choreographers, so there’s this idea that I’m only interested in my work. I wanted to play with that. Snow White clearly cares about everyone but herself. But it’s me. And I clearly care about only myself and nobody else. [Laughs] I really wanted to take those two things and not so intentionally mesh them, but just have them in my head.
Snow White premiered in France. How did it go?
It was good. It was stressful, to be totally honest with you. I could definitely go into great detail but I won’t, only because a lot of the women that I’m not working with anymore would probably take me to court if I said terrible things about them. I [since] changed the show because, number one, we had a lot of money there, and I could afford to pay five women, a documentary artist and an assistant—we had a guy with a camera filming every rehearsal. We’re making a documentary. We’re going to show it in Paris in July and then in Berlin in August. We’ll show Snow White there, too, but it will be different—maybe Isabel Lewis will play me. I can’t do every single show. I want to have somebody who’s an understudy sort of person.
Would you elaborate on why you made changes?
We had a lot of money for the project. In New York, we’re clearly not getting as much money to do all the shows so I thought, I want to narrow it down, and I want three really good people who can do the parts of six. For various reasons, Emily [Wexler] is not in it anymore and of the two people she suggested, I knew that after Snow White I wasn’t going to work with them ever again. I also really like to work project by project. I feel like the work wants different people, and it wants different things. It’s nice to have Liz, who is so consistent. She’s such a hard worker. That’s great. And I’m very thankful for that. As long as she wants to keep doing the work, I would imagine she’ll continue to be in it. But I think people get involved—they see the work, they love it, they think that they really like me because of whatever reason, and then they start doing it are like, Fuck. Or they don’t agree with how I work. Or they think I’m constantly rehearsing…
Do they perhaps assume that you’re a more casual director than you are?
Oh, I’m sure. And the thing is that I’m really honestly a very fair person. I feel like I communicate as best as I possibly can and I’m always saying, “There’s a problem? Talk to me.” It’s all about having a solution. I like to solve problems, and that’s what makes the work. I feel like there are certain people who can’t do that, who can’t communicate and be up-front about how they feel. I can’t work with people like that. It’s been interesting for me to see what works and what doesn’t and what I like and what I don’t like. It’s hard to find somebody that you love working with—for instance, Emily—and then realizing, Why isn’t this working anymore? It’s frustrating in a way, and it’s also made me think that maybe I am a terrible person. But I sit back and I have people like Liz and Michael who are like, “No, no. That’s not what’s happening. There’s no right way to make this thing. There’s no wrong way.” Every project is different, and I don’t ever want to be in a position where I just make things in a very specific way and that’s that. Someone said that when I work with people, they kind of start out as babies or toddlers, and as we work they get older and older and then they suddenly see themselves as teenagers and rebel. They want me to need them, I think.
So it’s a parent thing?
Yeah. I don’t work in the way where I’m like, “You’re so great, you’re so wonderful, what would I do without you, the work couldn’t survive without you.” I don’t believe any of those things. The work can survive without any of them. There was a point in Paris, where I almost tossed two of them. I didn’t. I don’t know. I want them to succeed, I want them to pull through. For me, the struggle is such a part of making the work.
Do they have to somehow break through to a different level?
I don’t know. With Emily, I see something specific in her that I really appreciate and so I work with that. I set monologues on her and I’m very specifically writing everything for her, making the movement for her and making the costume for her. It’s like I’m handmaking a dress that won’t fit anybody the way it’ll fit her. I care about her enough to do that. I think people don’t see it that way—especially when they get to the point where they’re like, “You don’t need me, so fuck off.”
You have really been through something!
Yeah. It’s hell! [Laughs] But it’s okay because I feel like I learned a lot. Paris was great in so many ways. We sold out five shows, we got tons of press. Some people hated it, some people loved it. The show is booked this entire year. I just have to figure out a better way of doing this so that I won’t die of stress by the time I’m 45.
You only have three characters in the production now—Snow White, the Queen and the Prince. Why?
I wanted to focus on this triangle of Snow White, her mom and this guy. I always like to take my life and stick it in the story somehow. So I have a very interesting relationship with my mother and Michael and myself—it’s quite a triangle at times, and I wanted to play with that. It’s also very strange because Michael is playing the Queen. My mom is probably going to read this and be so sad, but in a way the Queen is a lot like her in some stupid way. I chose the story because it was very similar to my life in some upside-down sort of way. But it wasn’t like I read the story of Snow White and thought, “Oh my God. This is me!” [Laughs]
What do you have in common with Snow White?
Probably nothing. We like animals. She talks to the deer and the rabbits and they all love her and eat out of her hands. She has a sort of yearning. She’s very hopeful. I think I’m certainly hopeful. I like her style. She wears the same dress every day, and I’m totally into that. The idea of a superhero never having to change her clothes is very cool. I feel like she’s very understanding. She doesn’t give up. She’s determined. She runs through the woods away from the hunter whose trying to take her heart. And she’s very domestic, which I feel I am in a lot of ways. She wants to clean for all the dwarves and she wants to be useful.
In the brothers Grimm’s version, the Queen actually dances to death. Does your Queen?
Not really but in Paris, she did kind of dance to death in a way—we did a duet to Whitney Houston’s “I’m Every Woman” and it was like a hard-core, high-powered, bust-our-asses dance. At a show in Amsterdam, I screamed at Michael the whole time. I threw a microphone at him and broke it, and the audience just died. They thought it was hilarious. That’s the thing: People don’t know if it’s pretend or if it’s real, and they’re intrigued. They come up to me afterwards and are like, “Are you really angry?” And I say, “I don’t know.” I don’t ever tell. But that night, I had Michael leave the stage to find me another microphone. When he walked back out, he just looked like somebody had just called his mother a whore 500 times. And the audience just died laughing.
Photograph: Nicholas StriniBut he knows what you’re doing, right?
Yes, but it affects him because he’s a human being. And to watch the audience watch him deal with this and laugh at him is so intense. In Paris, Emily hit me in the face with a sword, really hard, by accident. I played with that; I said something like, “You just hit me in the face. You fucking bitch.” It hurt, but it was also no big deal and she was just mortified and some of the people in the audience really felt for her. In Amsterdam, the dildo fell off during the middle of the show and it’s a vital part of the show—it has to be on her—so I said, “Michael get your ass over there and tape it!” The audience lost it. It’s funny to see what people think is funny. They like it when people are humiliated.
It’s sad, right? Sometimes I think what you’re doing is a theatrical version of Howard Stern.
It’s interesting. It’s like I tell Michael every day: “I hate people so much.” I feel like my work makes me not want to be around people. I lose faith. I work with them, and I see such ugly sides, and then I see these audiences and I see what they respond to, and it makes me so sad. It’s not everybody. There are people who I feel really see the work very clearly and appreciate it for the same reasons I do. I also appreciate the people who can laugh at everything. I don’t really have expectations in that way, but there are some days when I’m so sick of people. Most days. It’s terrible. Michael’s always like, “Ann Liv, people aren’t that bad.”
It is particularly disturbing to watch men watch your work.
You have no idea. You should see some of the e-mails I get. We sell DVDs [of the shows]. This guy gave me feedback: “The sound quality’s not that good, you should really hire a professional. And you really shouldn’t have a sex scene wearing tennis shoes. You’re really beautiful. If you’re ever lonely…” I get e-mails like this constantly. Just men being like, “If any of your dancers are lonely…” They’re men in Europe! I write them back something like, “It was supposed to be an imitation of a B-movie. The quality was supposed to be low. The tennis shoes were supposed to be on. I appreciate your comments.”
What is the extent of the sex angle in Snow White?
It’s not bad at all. I have to say, it’s a pretty nontrashy piece.
Why is it still so important?
I’m doing it because it’s Snow White. She’s fucking having sex onstage and the Prince has a huge dildo! Clearly, it’s almost cartoon.
Why is penetration necessary?
I want it to be visible that [the dildo] goes in me. Some people can’t even tell. It’s kind of like in Michael when Trenton [Duerkson] masturbates. Some people don’t notice and some people do, and I like that dialogue of “Did he or didn’t he?” I’m interested in that curiosity or investigation or skepticism. And there have been nights where I didn’t do it because I was bleeding or I was in pain or I didn’t want to. One night, we ran out of K-Y Jelly, and I was like, there’s no way and I faked it. I just go with it in this piece. I do whatever I feel like. One night I stopped the show. I was like, “I’m tired and don’t want to do this anymore.”
What happened?
Nothing. The audience thought it was hilarious. Michael said, “Ann Liv, come on.” And we kept going. It’s fun to be able to do what you want to do. I feel the more I’m able to do what I want to do, the better the work gets. For me. Better as in I’m challenged more, I learn more.
You also don’t want to tame yourself?
No. I definitely feel like I’m becoming less and less tame. Some people might see this and think, Oh, she’s not as crazy as I thought she’d be, just because every show’s so different, but in Snow White I feel like I have full confidence in doing whatever I want. I don’t care what people think. That’s bloated. Of course, I care what people think in a way, but I think I’m just performing a lot so I’m more confident. I know the work and I like the work and I like being in the work. I know that the people I’m performing with aren’t going to be mad if I say, “You’re a fucking bitch” onstage. They understand. And that’s nice—to feel like it’s a playground where everyone’s on the same page and you’re not going to really hurt anyone’s feelings. I’ve said terrible things to Michael. I’ve called him a retard. I’ve told him that he’s the worst technician ever. He still dates me. We did a show in Brussels, and I just reamed the sound guy. We told him before that I was going to do it, and we said, “It’s pretend, it’s pretend!” And he was just so upset after the show. It was horrible. I was devastated. I felt so bad. I talked to him for a half an hour, but there was nothing I could do. He thought it was about him. It’s crazy. Sometimes [it’s like] I’ve created a monster.
Does it feel like you have two personalities?
I don’t know. I’m assertive in life and I can be very aggressive. Onstage there’s also this charisma that keeps me from being the worst person on earth, but it’s on that edge and people are like, “Is she horrible or is she great?” They can’t figure it out.
I don’t want to offend you, but I think the work is like that, too.
Oh, totally. I’m sure. I don’t value it in a way that’s like, “I make good work. Or I make bad work.” I don’t even think about it like that. The thing is that I don’t care if somebody thinks my work is bad. I don’t know what that means. I’m sure that, in some ways, maybe it is bad. But I’m sure it’s also good if we’re going to talk about things in those terms. You know what I mean? It just is what it is. Sometimes I don’t know what it is. It depends on the day.
Is this a feminist piece?
I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck it is. I mean, some people would say it is. We’re actually doing two shows in Italy this year, and one is a women’s-gender yadda yadda. These people are really into the piece, which I find very interesting. It makes sense that they would be, but I don’t know. I feel like this piece is so open-ended. I guess I don’t really see it as a feminist piece. I see it more as a solo. I have so much control in it, and I’m orchestrating everything. Usually I’m the only one who fucks up. The dancers pretty much never do anything wrong, but I mess up all the time and when I do, I will usually blame it on somebody else in the show. And say, “Michael, replay the music.” But it’s really, really quick. I have so much control that it’s almost overwhelming. It’s almost like the only way that this show can work is if I have that much control and if I’m that aggressive. I think that’s what I’m interested in right now. I’m playing with control.
por Gia Kourlas
in Time Out New York / Issue 597 : Mar 8–14, 2007
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