Get in the Zone. Clone Zone.

Anatomical Scenario is an unconventional dance theater company exploring the art in artificial, reads the program from the Ohio-based company's August 15 performances of Anna and the Annadroids: Clone Zone at the Linhart Theatre. Unconventional is an understatement. The multi-media enhanced dance production follows a narrative of five robot girls battling through the videogame-inspired world of Anna's mind (named after company director Anna Sullivan). Supposedly based on psychologist Carl Jung's psychoanalytical model of the psyche, the scenes resemble those in a mental hospital.

The girls walk around pigeon-toed, twitching and bouncing as the music sings repetitive lyrics like, "Free your addictions" with a video-projected background of a storm of raining pills. In one section the girls run in place before a moving road, similar to the old race car Nintendo games, while a computer generated voice complains about her needs: everything from Prozac and running shoes, to couples therapy, to an internet love match.

Perhaps this is a comment on the overindulgence of society, as Sullivan' work claims to "explore interior disorders by exaggerating and manifesting them externally. The mission is accomplished through interrogating and critiquing the conventions of a social order that celebrates robotic conformity and idealizes a plastic-souled way of life." Through the integration of film, dance, and technology-generated graphics the show succeeds in making bold statements about humanity and its dysfunctions.

Although the show is extremely entertaining, it is difficult to imagine it being presented in a venue other than the Fringe Festival due to its take on mental illness, innate quirkiness, and near nudity. Sullivan is informative in her visual explanations of psychiatric disorders through video demonstrations of the occurrences in the brains of people with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and depression. However after each segment the words pass by sarcastically: "Treatment: Take Drugs."

The nature of the production calls for dancers to have flawless timing and energy so as not be usurped by the flashy commotion of the background film. They surpass these expectations, remaining fully in character as they demonstrate strength and skill. The choreography is full of angular movements and headstands, lending itself nicely to the music and lyrics.

The technical aspects of the production are outstanding. Elaborate costumes are changed often, while the clown-white makeup and glittery eyelashes remain a constant. The lighting and video create the sense of being enclosed in a videogame. The audio blends well with the action.

It is these factors that truly steal the show and make it a must-see for Fringe audiences.

Japanese Cool

A ninja is defined in Japanese as “one who utilizes clandestine skills.” Hip hop is defined in America as a “popular urban youth culture.” Somewhere in the unlikely intersection of these, between Japanese tradition and American commercialism, lies Orientarhythm, perhaps the most exciting and entertaining blended theater to hit the melting pot of New York City. Martial art fuses with performing art. Performed at Our Lady of Pompei Demo Hall on August 14, the production is impossible to define as just one form of entertainment. Is it dance? Is it martial arts? Is it mime? Is it a drum concert? The answer is all of the above.

The distinguishing factor of the troupe’s style, created in 1999, is their use of nunchakus, the weapon often seen in clichéd Jackie Chan films. They are made of 2 foot-long wooden sticks linked by a chain. Here they are used not only for defensive purposes but as complementary props, a technique that will be taught at a free workshop next week (Monday, August 20th, 10am at Peridance Center).

Their rapid movement is exhilarating, and only gets better when the lights vanish and the nunchakus glow in the dark. The firework shapes are reminiscent of those a child makes with a glow stick on the 4th of July.

This is not the only nod to American culture. To begin this scene the music sings, “May the force be with you,” à la Star Wars. Numerous points during the dance fights turn into “slow motion” with a green background, a reference to The Matrix. In between oriental hymns, a familiar Gwen Stefani song blares about Harajuku Girls.

Though the majority of costumes reflect conventional Japanese robes or marital arts uniforms, in the piece titled "Mirror" the dancer and his supposed mirror image (another dancer) perform intricate hip hop steps while sporting bright Adidas jackets. This serves not only to demonstrate another American influence but to enhance the believability of the mirrored image. Her jacket reads "Adidas" backwards. This reflection creates a subtle but effective touch.

The only downside to this culture-infused show is that it strongly plays upon overused stereotypes, such as harajuku girls and geishas. To this point, Asians have remained an ignored minority in the realm of American theater. With minimal representation it seems a shame to use archetypical suggestions to this extent, though the reasons are clear. Perhaps any representation is better than none at all (think blackface exploitation in the vaudeville and minstrel shows of the 1920s and 30s).

Still, though, Orientarhythm, stays true to its goal of presenting “Japanese cool.” It may be that with this energetic show the Asian culture will make a permanent mark on American theater.

All Aboard? Almost There, but Not Quite

The first thing that comes to mind at the opening of All Aboard, presented by the Armstrong/Bergeron Dance Company as a “multi-media dance work based on trains,” is an old work that led audiences to run out of the theater screaming. With a beep of a horn in darkness followed by an oversized film of a subway heading towards the audience, the similarity is strong between this scene at the Linhart Theatre at 440 Studios and the experience audiences had in 1895 while watching one of the earliest moving films, L’Arrivée d'un train à La Ciotat by the Lumiere brothers. Being unfamiliar with the medium of film, audiences were reported to be terrified of the looming locomotive.

Like the Lumiere brothers, co-artistic directors Carisa Armstrong and Christine Bergeron are innovators of their field, challenging the conventions of modern dance by using multimedia. Their work doesn’t send audiences scrambling for the door, but it does leave something to be desired.

Broken up into seven sections, the dance portrays aspects of a typical train ride: from finding the best seat to the final departure. This work evades the downtown dance genre because of its extensive use of film. In addition to the opening sequence, interviews are shown with train conductors and passengers. Other footage includes the dancers repeating live movements in Grand Central Station. The video, projected on a constantly changing screen, notably distracts from the dancers, pulling the focus away from the suspension-filled choreography.

The exception to this is in A Look into the Past, a solo for Ms. Armstrong. Her lyrical style subtly demands attention more than the video. She relates to the screen in a more complimenting way than the other dancers.

Another successful excerpt without film is Chug-a Chug-a Choo Choo, featuring 5 of the company’s 7 females. Without challenging technique, the choreography allows the personalities of the dancers to shine as they impersonate a train. The dancers are visibly more comfortable performing to familiar music, by the Asylum Street Spankers, rather than the mix of train noises and verbal anecdotes to which most of the work is set. Ms. Bergeron seems to be the only dancer who can move naturally to these sounds.

While the purpose of including film is clear, All Aboard may be more effective if the video is limited to the opening segment. A single clip could set the stage for an evening of dance alone based on the transitory nature of trains. Theater audiences may not appreciate the contrast of dance versus film, but modern dance enthusiasts can certainly be on board.