Last night we saw the world premiere of an evening-length modern dance piece. My obsessive/compulsive side was restrained fairly well, and I did not yell out "BORING" during some quiet bits. I also did not hiss at the woman behind me who a. rustled her program incessantly, b. ripped out bits of hard paper to put in her mint which she c. unwrapped at the most silent moments of the performance.

This woman's behaviour was bad enough, but when one considers that Mr. Jasperse's dance involves powerful lawn tools, one wonders if the woman was, like me an obsessive/compulsive. Instead of unwrapping, wiggling, and ripping during the mind-blowingly loud sections of the dance, she knew she could satisfy her inner demons by waiting for the right time.

The dance itself vexed. My dear, dear friend was there...he is on the faculty of the dance festival where the work was premiered. And he hated it. "Self-important", "waste of major funding", and "abstract bullshit" were some of the most choice words he used in our post-dance discussion. Husband, friend and I all agreed that the company was lovely and in sync in mesmerizing ways, the set was beyond cool (very Gehry), and the images created were eye-catching. But the thing was excruciatingly long and the control of the dancers, while admirable, was not interesting to watch.

The soundscape (not music at all, really) of the piece seemed to fit nicely with the dance and set, but never did the elements create the pleasing whole that I expected. Even a disturbing, upsetting whole would have been nice.