“good effort, marlee!”

an even, monotonous, beat begins. holding the space for my ears. letting me know this is the beginning. but really, it isn’t the beginning at all. 

the work began much before this moment i am witnessing. i am reminded this by the zine i received when i arrived — “effort begins before you can see it.” and so is the case for GOOD EFFORT, a choreographic project by Londs Reuter made in collaboration with Anna Maynard, Kristen Clotfelter, and Kaitlin Fox. 

made evident from the moment we left off from (see paragraph one). as the beat begins, the dancers are out of sight. right on the opposite side of the hill.

oh yes, the hill. perhaps i should have started there, but oh well. the setting is a hill. a large hill. a hill that is now the north carolina museum of art (whom commissioned this work along with the american dance festival). the zine, mentioned above, informs me that “This land belongs to the Tuscarora, the Lumbee, and the Catawba. From the 1920s into the 1960s this land housed the Camp Polk Prison, after which is became the Polk Youth Center (also a prison), until the 1990s.” at the base of this hill sits an audience who will become as much a part of the effort as the dancers themselves. the four dancers wear red adidas pants, light tops, and white sneakers. and as mentioned above, begin on the opposite side of this hill. 

back to the beat… the dancers are out of sight leaving us alone with the beat and the hill. slowly, we get glimpses of the red adidas pants as they dance in and out of the line of vision. eventually, we see all four dancers. they are repeating a phrase made up of intricate footwork and arms that feel almost nonchalant until you realize they are all doing the same ones. an attempt at unison is the value. an important distinction from unison itself being the value. sometimes unison is the result of this attempt, but the effort towards it is much more important. (effort…. will clearly be discussed again). 

in this effort, a community among the dancers builds. as i write this now, it feels like a worthwhile reminder that community takes effort. we see the community, i personally feel it, but we hear it too. the dancers encourage one another through their efforts. (this may be a nice time to remind you that this is all happening on a very large hill). the repetitive, quick, intricate, unison phrase propels downward. dancers fall in and out of it, but the humanness of these moments adds to the integrity of the work. 

the beat (from the first paragraph) continues and at some point a tuba (or maybe a trumpet? i’m honestly not great with instruments). just googled it, definitely a tuba. anyways, a melody comes from a tuba (definitely a tuba) as the unison progresses. i assume it’s coming from the same speaker as the beat, but as the dancers get closer so does the tuba. the woman in front of me turns around, i follow and see him. the tuba. well, the (very talented) musician playing said tuba. he is dressed in white overalls making his way towards the hill while playing the same melody on the tuba over and over. 

he eventually arrives center hill. the dancers go to the side as he continues to play. as he does so, we see them drinking water, eating some peaches perhaps, wiping the sweat from their sticky skin. we’re once again reminded of the effort. the echo of his sounds are so prominent that i found myself turning around not once, but twice, to make sure there wasn’t another tuba player playing back to him. silly, i know. 

remember when i mentioned that the audience itself would become as much a part of the effort? well, around this point is when i noticed this layer to the work. in front of me, a child lays in her mothers lap and i am reminded of the effort of motherhood. at the top of the hill, a girl is attempting tightrope. as she leaves the rope, i think of the effort it takes to walk away. my back hurts from being in a seated position and my ass is soggy from the wet grass below it. i can’t help but ponder on all the effort it took for me to be here, now. in a new state with a new job navigating the horrible highway systems of north carolina that led me to this very show. to my right, a boy is playing cards. 

next, the dancers “enter” the hill again. they come and go in solos and duets and trios and sometimes all four dance on the hill. a section i have entitled “good game” begins. two dancers meet and shake hands as they nod their head. they then dance for, or possibly against, one another. this repeats multiple times with different pairs. it’s playful and i feel myself back on the soccer field again. i was never the best at soccer. in fact, i was one of the worst. my coach would often tell me, “good effort, marlee!” 

eventually, all of the dancers are back on the hill together. they move very slowly, then stop completely. they repeat multiple times and at some point the beat stops. so does the tuba, and the tuba man (whose name is Dylan Angell btw). i don’t notice his absence immediately, but as soon as i do i feel immense guilt for not noticing sooner. i also miss him dearly. but i understand why he is gone. now, the children in the distance and the plane above and the birds migrating back north maybe and the sneeze of audience member number 29 create the sound-score. it’s beautiful; and cannot be replicated by even the most expensive recoding gear in the world. 

in one of these “then stop completely” a dancer moves towards another one. she takes out her hair and braids it. she takes her time, there’s no rush here. this image takes me back to hundreds of different moments on my life. a tear wells in my eye, but for some reason i use my effort to keep it in. 

on the other side of the hill, a man is creating the larges bubbles i have ever seen in my entire life. whatever you are picturing right now, i promise they are much bigger. these bubbles look like they have come straight from oz and i am sure they were planted there for the sake of this show but i am also pretty sure they were not. 

the dancer’s hair is now braided. they move slow and stop again. they dance up the hill — back in unison. they fade out of sight just as they began. 

they appear again and i know it’s the end. i immediately wish it was not and also immediately know it is not actually the end because effort never ends. i clap the whole way down the hill and don’t want to stop. eventually i do, but in a way i haven’t. i feel the effort in my palms. 

i feel the effort ten-fold as i walk back up that same hill. i take my hand to my heart and feel it some more. 

you can check out more of Londs’ work at londsreuter.com