The selling point of three new works from Olivier Wever’s Whim W’Him party team filled the Intiman Theatre on per night whenever thawing heaps of slush in Seattle roads mounted to your knees. Boots are not strictly a fashion option. “Cast the very first Rock in Twenty Twelve” came with plenty of temperature of its very very own, however.
Two faster works, La Langue de l’amour and Flower Festival, led as much as the night’s major showcase, thrOwn, but that’s not to imply they weren’t as appreciatively gotten. As a passive-aggressive hint of some kind if you’re at the theatre as a couple, you have to be careful how loudly you clap for the wickedly titled La Langue de l’amour, in case your partner takes it.
A solo en pointe tease by Chalnessa Eames in a deranged-pixie wig, Langue employs pantomime and, in this context, the not-so-sublimated eroticism regarding the allegro motion of the Domenico Scarlatti harpsichord sonata as Wevers wrings every glistening fall of intercourse appeal from the ballerina’s formal accuracy (a gauzy wisp of costume by Christine Joly de Lotbiniиre helps with that work). Continue reading “From Whim W’Him, Intercourse Kittens and Sex Kills”