Gloomy, gloomy. The title freedom may sound light and optimistic, but the new performance by Club Guy & Roni and Slagwerk Den Haag is anything but. Black is the color, dark, capricious or blinding the lighting. Aggressive energy and total powerlessness alternate. Dull, resounding blows pound the eardrums.
freedom is the theatrical translation of the Guantanamo Diary (2015) by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, the man from Mauritania who was held captive in ‘Gitmo’ for 14 years in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks, without charge or trial, with endless interrogations and torture. The suspicion that he was involved in 9/11, once fighting with the mujahideen against communist rule in Afghanistan, has never been substantiated.
Also read the interview with Mohamedou Ould Slahi: “I now know from my own experience that when you have the US against you, you have the whole world against you.”
Slahi also mentally survived his hellish journey in the infamous prison camp in Cuba. In his 2021 as The Mauritania filmed book, he speaks except about the cruel torture about forgiveness and the right to freedom.
“Democracy dies in darkness, freedom dies in darkness.” With those words Slahi, via a video link with Mauritania ‘present’ at the premiere (he is currently banned from traveling), immediately declared the main color of the performance. Black are the large boxes that are hoisted up and down above the stage, with the sound of grinding and clicking emphatically amplified. They are symbols for the cages in Guantánamo, and for the bags that were frequently pulled over the heads of the terrorist suspects.
disorientation
In just over an hour, five dancers paint impressions of Slahi’s adventures. Horrifying and beautiful is the depiction of the disorientation he must have felt in his defenselessness: a figure sewn from head to toe in black fabric. Suggestive, just not too realistic, the torture scenes in which punches, kicks and beatings take place. The four members of Slagwerk Den Haag deal heavy blows to the rectangular black boxes on and above the stage, which they also work rhythmically with chalk, first ‘peating the days’ with stripes, then increasingly chaotic twists, spirals and labyrinths – a discovery of auditory and visual beauty.
Also read this interview with Jodie Foster: ‘I may have unknowingly avoided the subject of Guantánamo Bay, as many Americans do’
The choreography is often synchronized, with deep forward and back bends of the torsos, arms and legs that mow through the space with the energy that is typical of Guy & Roni. But also a lot of the same. As a translation of the endlessness of the stay in Guantánamo, that is correct, but it remains unsatisfactory. The time and again falling of Roni Haver in the otherwise beautiful final duet with the strong Harold Luya is also tedious.
Slahi has in the script for freedom dosed texts built in. They are impressive, but that directness virtually reduces the room for interpretation to zero, while the theme is already as clear as a log. Certainly in the pre-explained ‘conversation’ between Slahi and his executioner Mister X, which hangs loosely as a kind of documentary part of the text. That’s too bad. Still freedom fascinate, and that’s nice.
Gloomy, gloomy. The title freedom may sound light and optimistic, but the new performance by Club Guy & Roni and Slagwerk Den Haag is anything but. Black is the color, dark, capricious or blinding the lighting. Aggressive energy and total powerlessness alternate. Dull, resounding blows pound the eardrums.
freedom is the theatrical translation of the Guantanamo Diary (2015) by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, the man from Mauritania who was held captive in ‘Gitmo’ for 14 years in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks, without charge or trial, with endless interrogations and torture. The suspicion that he was involved in 9/11, once fighting with the mujahideen against communist rule in Afghanistan, has never been substantiated.
Also read the interview with Mohamedou Ould Slahi: “I now know from my own experience that when you have the US against you, you have the whole world against you.”
Slahi also mentally survived his hellish journey in the infamous prison camp in Cuba. In his 2021 as The Mauritania filmed book, he speaks except about the cruel torture about forgiveness and the right to freedom.
“Democracy dies in darkness, freedom dies in darkness.” With those words Slahi, via a video link with Mauritania ‘present’ at the premiere (he is currently banned from traveling), immediately declared the main color of the performance. Black are the large boxes that are hoisted up and down above the stage, with the sound of grinding and clicking emphatically amplified. They are symbols for the cages in Guantánamo, and for the bags that were frequently pulled over the heads of the terrorist suspects.
disorientation
In just over an hour, five dancers paint impressions of Slahi’s adventures. Horrifying and beautiful is the depiction of the disorientation he must have felt in his defenselessness: a figure sewn from head to toe in black fabric. Suggestive, just not too realistic, the torture scenes in which punches, kicks and beatings take place. The four members of Slagwerk Den Haag deal heavy blows to the rectangular black boxes on and above the stage, which they also work rhythmically with chalk, first ‘peating the days’ with stripes, then increasingly chaotic twists, spirals and labyrinths – a discovery of auditory and visual beauty.
Also read this interview with Jodie Foster: ‘I may have unknowingly avoided the subject of Guantánamo Bay, as many Americans do’
The choreography is often synchronized, with deep forward and back bends of the torsos, arms and legs that mow through the space with the energy that is typical of Guy & Roni. But also a lot of the same. As a translation of the endlessness of the stay in Guantánamo, that is correct, but it remains unsatisfactory. The time and again falling of Roni Haver in the otherwise beautiful final duet with the strong Harold Luya is also tedious.
Slahi has in the script for freedom dosed texts built in. They are impressive, but that directness virtually reduces the room for interpretation to zero, while the theme is already as clear as a log. Certainly in the pre-explained ‘conversation’ between Slahi and his executioner Mister X, which hangs loosely as a kind of documentary part of the text. That’s too bad. Still freedom fascinate, and that’s nice.
Gloomy, gloomy. The title freedom may sound light and optimistic, but the new performance by Club Guy & Roni and Slagwerk Den Haag is anything but. Black is the color, dark, capricious or blinding the lighting. Aggressive energy and total powerlessness alternate. Dull, resounding blows pound the eardrums.
freedom is the theatrical translation of the Guantanamo Diary (2015) by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, the man from Mauritania who was held captive in ‘Gitmo’ for 14 years in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks, without charge or trial, with endless interrogations and torture. The suspicion that he was involved in 9/11, once fighting with the mujahideen against communist rule in Afghanistan, has never been substantiated.
Also read the interview with Mohamedou Ould Slahi: “I now know from my own experience that when you have the US against you, you have the whole world against you.”
Slahi also mentally survived his hellish journey in the infamous prison camp in Cuba. In his 2021 as The Mauritania filmed book, he speaks except about the cruel torture about forgiveness and the right to freedom.
“Democracy dies in darkness, freedom dies in darkness.” With those words Slahi, via a video link with Mauritania ‘present’ at the premiere (he is currently banned from traveling), immediately declared the main color of the performance. Black are the large boxes that are hoisted up and down above the stage, with the sound of grinding and clicking emphatically amplified. They are symbols for the cages in Guantánamo, and for the bags that were frequently pulled over the heads of the terrorist suspects.
disorientation
In just over an hour, five dancers paint impressions of Slahi’s adventures. Horrifying and beautiful is the depiction of the disorientation he must have felt in his defenselessness: a figure sewn from head to toe in black fabric. Suggestive, just not too realistic, the torture scenes in which punches, kicks and beatings take place. The four members of Slagwerk Den Haag deal heavy blows to the rectangular black boxes on and above the stage, which they also work rhythmically with chalk, first ‘peating the days’ with stripes, then increasingly chaotic twists, spirals and labyrinths – a discovery of auditory and visual beauty.
Also read this interview with Jodie Foster: ‘I may have unknowingly avoided the subject of Guantánamo Bay, as many Americans do’
The choreography is often synchronized, with deep forward and back bends of the torsos, arms and legs that mow through the space with the energy that is typical of Guy & Roni. But also a lot of the same. As a translation of the endlessness of the stay in Guantánamo, that is correct, but it remains unsatisfactory. The time and again falling of Roni Haver in the otherwise beautiful final duet with the strong Harold Luya is also tedious.
Slahi has in the script for freedom dosed texts built in. They are impressive, but that directness virtually reduces the room for interpretation to zero, while the theme is already as clear as a log. Certainly in the pre-explained ‘conversation’ between Slahi and his executioner Mister X, which hangs loosely as a kind of documentary part of the text. That’s too bad. Still freedom fascinate, and that’s nice.
Gloomy, gloomy. The title freedom may sound light and optimistic, but the new performance by Club Guy & Roni and Slagwerk Den Haag is anything but. Black is the color, dark, capricious or blinding the lighting. Aggressive energy and total powerlessness alternate. Dull, resounding blows pound the eardrums.
freedom is the theatrical translation of the Guantanamo Diary (2015) by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, the man from Mauritania who was held captive in ‘Gitmo’ for 14 years in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks, without charge or trial, with endless interrogations and torture. The suspicion that he was involved in 9/11, once fighting with the mujahideen against communist rule in Afghanistan, has never been substantiated.
Also read the interview with Mohamedou Ould Slahi: “I now know from my own experience that when you have the US against you, you have the whole world against you.”
Slahi also mentally survived his hellish journey in the infamous prison camp in Cuba. In his 2021 as The Mauritania filmed book, he speaks except about the cruel torture about forgiveness and the right to freedom.
“Democracy dies in darkness, freedom dies in darkness.” With those words Slahi, via a video link with Mauritania ‘present’ at the premiere (he is currently banned from traveling), immediately declared the main color of the performance. Black are the large boxes that are hoisted up and down above the stage, with the sound of grinding and clicking emphatically amplified. They are symbols for the cages in Guantánamo, and for the bags that were frequently pulled over the heads of the terrorist suspects.
disorientation
In just over an hour, five dancers paint impressions of Slahi’s adventures. Horrifying and beautiful is the depiction of the disorientation he must have felt in his defenselessness: a figure sewn from head to toe in black fabric. Suggestive, just not too realistic, the torture scenes in which punches, kicks and beatings take place. The four members of Slagwerk Den Haag deal heavy blows to the rectangular black boxes on and above the stage, which they also work rhythmically with chalk, first ‘peating the days’ with stripes, then increasingly chaotic twists, spirals and labyrinths – a discovery of auditory and visual beauty.
Also read this interview with Jodie Foster: ‘I may have unknowingly avoided the subject of Guantánamo Bay, as many Americans do’
The choreography is often synchronized, with deep forward and back bends of the torsos, arms and legs that mow through the space with the energy that is typical of Guy & Roni. But also a lot of the same. As a translation of the endlessness of the stay in Guantánamo, that is correct, but it remains unsatisfactory. The time and again falling of Roni Haver in the otherwise beautiful final duet with the strong Harold Luya is also tedious.
Slahi has in the script for freedom dosed texts built in. They are impressive, but that directness virtually reduces the room for interpretation to zero, while the theme is already as clear as a log. Certainly in the pre-explained ‘conversation’ between Slahi and his executioner Mister X, which hangs loosely as a kind of documentary part of the text. That’s too bad. Still freedom fascinate, and that’s nice.