“Shockwave Delay,” the latest production by the artist Yoshiko Chuma, promises a unique experience with each performance. This is particularly true for the multidisciplinary shows directed by Chuma for her company, the School of Hard Knocks. I attended two of the shows during the first week of its two-week run at La MaMa’s Ellen Stewart Theater, and both were distinctly different. The opening night performance had a few technical hiccups, with some performers seeming unsure of their roles. By Sunday, the dynamic cast consisting of core members and rotating guests had found its rhythm.
“Shockwave Delay” is a daring and ambitious production, lasting two and a half hours with no breaks. It combines music, movement, spoken text, and video to tell the story of distinct but interconnected episodes. It is not a retrospective, but included footage from Chuma’s recent works, and a short film from 1980 titled “The School of Hard Knocks: Adventure in Moving,” directed by Chuma and Jacob Burckhardt.
“Shockwave Delay” tackles various themes that Chuma, originally from Osaka, Japan, and now a US resident for over forty years, has explored in her career. These include the artificiality of borders, the effects of American imperialism, and the potential of art for both activism and healing. Amidst the more serious moments, the production also contains two festive interludes celebrating members of Chuma’s artistic circle in the School of Hard Knocks.
The performance wavers between tense moments and a delicate celebration of life. For instance, at one point, a film of the 1946 nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll (Bruce Connor’s “Crossroads”) is played, and the sound of explosion after explosion fills the theater. In another scene, the pianist Dane Terry plays as Chuma disrupts him by stepping on the piano keys or lying across his back, while video footage of a California forest fire plays in the background. Throughout the show, a sense of urgency and search radiates from the dancers, who often perform in shadows or near darkness.
The production’s anchor is the voice of actor Jim Fletcher, who sits side-stage reading from an iPad. His voice provides a steady force for the production, which is otherwise wildly multidirectional. The reading includes musings on the violence of property ownership, and the performers roll out a bright-white picket fence in the shape of an X towards the end of the show.
Watching “Shockwave Delay” twice allowed me to appreciate the show’s flexible but coherent structure, complex in its malleability. Like the title suggests, the impact of Chuma’s work may not be felt immediately but may instead emerge in waves, perhaps when least expected.
Shockwave Delay
Through June 11 at La MaMa, Manhattan; lamama.org.
