Koosil-ja's latest version of mech[a]OUTPUT sounds great on paper. A multimedia work from the dynamic Korean-Japanese-American choreographer/singer re-de-constructing the classic noh play Dojo-ji from a feminist p.o.v. and live performer-technology interaction with video (a la Wooster Group), live 3-D game space, live music and a swinging digital bell.
Dojoji itself is based on an old Japanese legend in which a love-lorn woman spurned by a monk chases him into a temple where he hides inside a bell, at which point her jealous rage turns her into a gigantic serpent and she coils herself around the bell breathing fire and roasts him alive. Alternate versions have the temple monks' fervent prayers releasing the woman from her earthly attachments and ascending to heaven, or sometimes she is the one who hides herself away from the world in the bell where she transforms into her reptilian-monster self, and ultimately just slithers away into the river. yowzers. The noh play, of course, with a super-refined and rigid performance form passed down through centuries from performer to performer, is a slow, intense display of subtle emotion. As is the "Japanese" aesthetic of wabisabi focus is on restraint, and that which is NOT apparent, as much as it is about what is. To the western layman, noh would probably be intolerable to watch and boring as hell.
With such fecund material and willing and skilled collaborators at hand, it is difficult for me to admit that mech[a]OUTPUT was a exciting as someone's master's thesis. There was no seamless marriage between concept and art -- there was high concept, flapping dryly in the wind, and there was great skill, embodied in Koosil-ja's heartrending voice and fierce physicality. But the two seemed never to meld or complement each other, leaving both heart and brain to drift off. It also didn't help that the transitions were handled with utter clumsiness and artlessness. Perhaps with the aid of an editor or director, these elements could have been shaped into a theatrically satisfying event. But as is, it was output to be forsaken.
Dojoji itself is based on an old Japanese legend in which a love-lorn woman spurned by a monk chases him into a temple where he hides inside a bell, at which point her jealous rage turns her into a gigantic serpent and she coils herself around the bell breathing fire and roasts him alive. Alternate versions have the temple monks' fervent prayers releasing the woman from her earthly attachments and ascending to heaven, or sometimes she is the one who hides herself away from the world in the bell where she transforms into her reptilian-monster self, and ultimately just slithers away into the river. yowzers. The noh play, of course, with a super-refined and rigid performance form passed down through centuries from performer to performer, is a slow, intense display of subtle emotion. As is the "Japanese" aesthetic of wabisabi focus is on restraint, and that which is NOT apparent, as much as it is about what is. To the western layman, noh would probably be intolerable to watch and boring as hell.
With such fecund material and willing and skilled collaborators at hand, it is difficult for me to admit that mech[a]OUTPUT was a exciting as someone's master's thesis. There was no seamless marriage between concept and art -- there was high concept, flapping dryly in the wind, and there was great skill, embodied in Koosil-ja's heartrending voice and fierce physicality. But the two seemed never to meld or complement each other, leaving both heart and brain to drift off. It also didn't help that the transitions were handled with utter clumsiness and artlessness. Perhaps with the aid of an editor or director, these elements could have been shaped into a theatrically satisfying event. But as is, it was output to be forsaken.
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