CERBERUS

Three independent artists, Tyra Rose, Nikki Flores, and Arinze Okammor, collaboratively developed a performance showcasing their choreography, local dancers, and their commitment to equity in the arts. Pre-show, we were told that all 28 dancers would be paid, a true accomplishment for an independently produced show.

I’m Sorry, choreographed by Arinze Okammor, opened the show. Dressed in denim pants and shades of black and blue, five dancers executed detailed choreography with precision and focus. Quick and intricate choreography is a trademark for Okammor, and with it the dancers traveled two-dimensionally across the stage, connecting through eye contact and partner work.

Merging his original music with other songs, the words I’m sorry echoed over and over with different tone inflections, accents, and emotions in the voices of the soundtrack. I began to wonder what makes the words I’m sorry “authentic”? Is it a phrase used so frequently that it feels like placation rather than a genuine feeling? To me, this piece didn’t provide an answer to my questions, but more nudged my brain to wonder and reflect on the common apology.

Also choreographed by Okammor, Satellite Business connected intricate hand movements to a cool groove vibe. Street style techniques were the foundation of the choreography that emphasised a community feel between the dancers. The pulse of the music rippled through their spines as the up rock kept the movement circular and grounded. From large ensemble phrases to solo and duet moments, the dancers got the audience hype with their facial expressions and communal joy. The music led the pace, and the choreography accentuated the rhythm of the Little Simz rap flow.

Tyra Rose’s Impulse Control #6: Relapse debuted her new company, WhipLash Dance. Seven dancers entered boldly with swooping jumps and interconnected floorwork. Melodic, warplike music shifted to an upbeat tone that began the journey of addiction depicted through the piece. Main character Kate Henderson displayed the joy of the high along with the rest of the cast, laughing together as they circled the stage and each other. But as the high faded, so did those around Henderson. The laughter turned to isolation, showing the underlying issues that are at the root of addiction are still there after the high. Lying alone in a fetal position, Henderson’s jerky, gut-wrenching torso movement showed the internal battle and external physical effects of addiction. In a heartfelt duet, Hayley Keller stroked Henderson’s hair in an intimate moment nestled on the floor. Keller’s role to help and console Henderson through this vulnerable moment showed the importance of support during a recovery process. 

Choreographed by Okammor and Rose, Gasp was an intense and dynamic duet between dancers Maisy Neill and Skyler Scharl. Every reach, bend, and touch between the two exuded effort. Their heavy breathing, audible to the audience, was a testament to the intensity of their movement. Their quick grabbing gestures seemed to suck the life out of each other as they zipped around the stage, emphasizing the contrast between fight or flight.

In Just Before The Fall, choreographer and performer Nikki Flores was a striking presence as she slowly walked toward the audience in a pale green light. Her body contorted as the impetus rose from her chest and torso. As the music began to build, so did Flores’ movements through hair sweeps and head banging. Crashing in and out of the floor with ease, she repeated a pulling from the chest gesture, like removing a long string. I could feel the emotion and effort this gradually building solo took to execute. 

Flores also choreographed The Rhythm of Roots. Dressed in all brown, seven dancers started in an amorphous shape, lying on each other, replicating the up and down movement of breathing. With red fabric connected to their wrist or knees, they slithered across the floor. As they slid away from each other, the fabric folded and crisscrossed, creating a web-like shape that kept them connected. As the piece went on, they started to disconnect themselves and wrap it around a certain dancer. Whether wrapping around the body, placing it on the head, or placing it on their shoulders, different dancers in the piece held the fabric uneasily. A heavy swinging motion rhythmically brought everyone together as the fabric made its way around. Group phrases filled with quick turns to individual improvisation moments mirrored the web-like formation at the beginning of the piece. To me, the fabric symbolized something that may be uneasy, uncomfortable, or difficult to handle. However, it doesn’t always last, and we learn to handle the weight of a situation.

The evening’s choreography spotlighted weighty concepts that affect many people physically and mentally, translating themes such as addiction, fight or flight, and time into a striking visual language. Yet the performance was far from unrelenting. Carefully placed moments of joy and levity offered a welcome contrast—bursts of laughter and playful gestures reminded the audience of the real, everyday emotions. From the beginning, the audience was encouraged to be more than passive observers and to respond in whatever way they wanted. By the end, it felt less like watching a performance and more like sharing in a collective, communal experience.

CERBERUS premiered June 20-22 at NOD Theater. Full program information can be accessed HERE.