A Choreographed Whisper That Echoes Loudly
Pam Tanowitz’s Neither Drums nor Trumpets, presented as part of Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels in collaboration with the Royal Ballet and Opera, unfolded like a beautiful symphony—meticulously synchronized yet effortlessly fluid. Set in the historic Paul Hamlyn Hall, a space steeped in layers of history, the performance played with ritual, repetition, and abstraction, weaving together movement and memory with a quiet, mesmerizing force.
From the very first step, it was clear—this was dance stripped down to its purest essence. No elaborate makeup, no extravagant costumes, just the raw power of movement. The performers, dressed in minimal, understated attire, let their bodies do the storytelling. Every step was precise, intentional, and almost meditative in its focus. At moments, it felt as if we were watching a rehearsal rather than a staged performance—a deliberate blurring of perfection and process, formality and spontaneity.
The solos were particularly striking—each dancer bringing their own emotional depth, technical finesse, and quiet intensity. But if I had to pick a personal favorite, Anson Zwingelberg’s presence was magnetic, his movement impeccable in its clarity and control.
What stood out most was the presence of the trainees—a seamless integration that felt like a continuation of ballet’s legacy, the passing down of knowledge and tradition through storytelling in motion. Their presence added a fresh, dynamic layer to the work, a reminder of the intergenerational dialogue that is inherent in dance.The impeccable twirls, the mid-touch holds, the unexpected wit woven into the choreography—it all contributed to an experience that was as cerebral as it was visceral. Tanowitz’s work is clever—witty in its restraint, playful in its precision. Neither Drums nor Trumpets was not just a performance but an exploration, a reflection on dance itself, seen from a distance yet deeply felt in the moment.