Marikiscrycrycry examines fresh territory in “Goner,” but his ideas remain theatrically inert.
Horror movies have often taken dance as a subject, from “The Red Shoes” to “Black Swan,” “Suspiria” and this year’s “Abigail.” The reverse is much less common, and so “Goner,” a dance solo by the artist known as Marikiscrycrycry, has the advantage of exploring fresh territory. It even comes with a tantalizing content warning about flashing lights, nudity, blood, sex and murder.
Alas, the suspense generated by this hourlong work, which had its New York premiere at Abrons Arts Center on Thursday, is less “what’s going to happen?” than “how long is this going to go on?”
It starts with the house lights still up, as Marikiscrycrycry — the performance persona of Malik Nashad Sharpe, a New Yorker who lives in London — slides onstage wearing sneakers, tight jean shorts and a collar trailing a long braid down his bare back. Facing away from the audience, he rolls his hips, undulates his ripped torso and thrusts his pelvis to dancehall music. He could almost be a fitness instructor, mutely leading a class in the Caribbean dance called wining, except for the voice from a hanging loudspeaker that periodically cuts in, saying “Number 222, go into the shower.”
Eventually, after a blackout, he slips behind a plastic screen and poses in silhouette: now an Olympian, now a hanging man. The shadows separate and intriguingly multiply until finally the screen is splattered with red liquid, again and again. This isn’t scary. It’s like Action Painting with pauses.
And it’s no more startling when Sharpe tears through the plastic, his face dripping fake blood. He sits in a pile of trash, facing away again, and recites a monologue about murdering his friends with cyanide. Despite the queer sex, this isn’t writing on the level of Dennis Cooper, and Sharpe’s awkward delivery invokes giggles rather than discomfort.
Later, he sings (pretty well) some Britney Spears and Keyshia Cole. After the loudspeaker warns that he will be punished, he twitches to the sound of gunshots and falls on his face. When a different voice commands him to show “that Black ass,” he dances as at the beginning, this time with his shorts pulled down.
An associate artist at the Place, a leading dance institution in London, Sharpe has attracted attention and critical praise in Europe and Canada. He has something on his mind in “Goner,” something about how society creates monsters, discarding those considered goners as if they were trash. He’s clearly thinking about how bodies like his are viewed (and maybe about the horror films of Jordan Peele).
But while he gives himself a workout, those ideas remain theatrically inert. “Goner” is body horror without horror, and though Sharpe’s body is at the center, the dance is still in his head.
Marikiscrycrycry
Through Sunday at Abrons Arts Center; abronsartscenter.org.
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