The 5th edition MUSIC DANCE SCREENINGS FILM FESTIVAL CONSONANCE

An old man on a solo fishing journey meets a big fish and gets dragged into conversation with the fish, his soul, and the sea.

In the Royal Winnipeg Ballet (RWB)’s adult recreational dance program, the studio provides a sanctuary outside home and work where personal expression thrives. For the adult dancers, dance serves as a refuge—a meditative escape from daily chaos, fostering connections across generations. Emphasizing the joy and camaraderie found in dance classes and rehearsals, they discuss how dance not only provides a unique physical workout, but also cultivates a unique bond among diverse participants. Through the art of dance, they discover empowerment and community, overcoming personal challenges that come with adulthood while thoroughly embracing the opportunity to perform for an audience.

"Reading the Body" is a creative fusion that combines dance and poetry to explore the fraught relationships of our bodies and our health with the world around us. Dancers create original choreography based on poetry about "body politic," set to original music, highlighted with gripping narration and ASL interpretation. A co-production of Bellevue Literary Review and The Paige Fraser Foundation.

A musicalization and choreography of legendary poet Frederico Garcia Lorca's poem "El Ninõ Mudo," The Mute Boy. Filmed in the spectacular artscape of Opus 40 in Saugerties, NY.

In this love letter to San Francisco, an exuberant dancer enjoys the cultural landmarks while the city pulses along with her. In return, she leaves a myriad of impressions on a cherished and vibrant city.

John is unhappy at his work in a bar. His older co-worker - Ed - and himself don't share the same philosophies about life. Later in the night, John meets up with his fiancé Gena. In the middle of the night they stumble upon a strange yard sale and an old man.

A circle of friends gather to celebrate their mentor and learn that what lasts is those you leave behind.

in departures, break-ups, or death, aren't we always intruders for a moment? Perhaps, then, it's in reconnecting with the possibilities of our bodies and their own intensity that we'll return to presence.

“HATIA” is a dance film, that uses film, volumetric and motion capture technology to translate music and choreography into four projections, pays homage to those who dare to cross borders in search of a better life. HAITA was born from the exercise of imagining how a dancer's body could be the overall encompassing creative element for the full piece with a witty use of cutting-edge scientific and creative technology developed by the renowned international creative Satore Studio and the Champalimaud Foundation. The piece itself is a mixture of styles − incorporating ballet, Portuguese vira and Mexican traditions − captured on film, but also through volumetric and motion capture technology. The music used is inspired by two rivers, the Portuguese Tagus and the Rio Grande, which separates Mexico from the United States. Inspired with great liberality by Mexican song and Portuguese fado, the music is then sprinkled with the melancholy that runs in the blood of both countries, born from the stories of love, loss and migration. “Haita,” means river in the indigenous language of Huichol, the name derives by how it was created, developed across the Tagus river, from it’s most western side at the Champalimaud Foundation, passing through MAAT museum, across the studio in which Satore Studio is placed, all the way to the east, in which the piece was mixed and then presented. A second meaning of the piece pays tribute to the many migrants who risk their life in an attempt to have a better life, whether it is in the borders across Mexico, Venezuela, Ukraine, Yemen or any other country. The voice of a man sings in Spanish “Yo ya me voy” (I am leaving) about how he is preparing to go to the desert leaving his woman behind. The voice is singing a traditional Mexican chant, Canto Cardenche, with a modern twist. At the same time, we see in the two sides of the screen images created in 3D worlds, they seem abstract, but we can tell that a body is driving them. On stage we see a body dressed with a “quexquemtl” (a sort of poncho). As it turns to reveal its face, we realise this is a mask. In the middle screen, we see the same mask but from a different angle, we quickly realise the image in the screen is not real time but rather a montage. The body moves in space, lit by only a top light central to the stage. As the scene ends, the mask and upper costume are lifted from the body. We then discover a woman dressed in traditional Mexican clothes as she lays the mask and the quexquemetl on the floor downstage. As the music begins to progress, we hear the drums mimicking her heartbeat. She moves slowly. At first, only her arms. Then, her shoulders are released. After a few minutes, her arms are followed by her upper body and her hips, and finally her lower body. Yet, her legs never move and remain planted firmly on the floor. These are the feelings of a woman's despair at seeing her love go away. All she can do is cry for him and imagine what his journey will be. The screens show her movement and desperation as if each one of them was telling the same story from different standpoints. As the cello opens the sound, she is released and begins to imagine the voyage in the truck. Her movements are continuous with a cadence signifying how it is to be in the back of a truck, not knowing where you are going but knowing you are headed somewhere. The addition of the violin gives the music a more balletesque feeling, while the guitar signifies the dangers that lie ahead. In the screens we can now see an evolution on the content, her movement and volumetric capture creating a quartet of dancers. The next movement is based on the fear of having to run and hide. The movement is more frenetic, always aiming at a new space in the stage, then freezing, hoping to not be found by the cops. The anxiety of the movement is palpable to the audience as well as the movement on the screens, which convey the mayhem that is to be running through the desert and the pace in which life moved through. The sound of the guitar moving through the scales and speed, combined with the cello and violin in a pizzicato style help to enhance the feeling of nervousness and panic. The switch to the next movement is very subtle. Out goes the frenetic movement and now comes the more arabesque movement of swimming, of moving in space from one side to another, being displaced by the movement of the water. Although the movement is more fluid, the sense of desperation to fight the water and to not drown is perceivable. The pizzicatos are still palpable, letting us know that the danger is still existing. The music slows down and speeds up again and again, reminding us of the tide. The visuals on the screens mirror this trip in the water while another examines the kinetic movement. The central screen intercuts various images of the dancer, as if reimagining the fractal element of it all. After a few minutes, the fight is finished and the final strung sounds of the guitar and the violin give way to the last breaths of our character. The fight has been lost. Slowly, the body sinks to the bottom of the river. A small piano gives the sense of the body sinking and our dancer with arms open slowly drifts to the centre of the stage. The same voice that we heard at the beginning begins a second Canto Cardenche. The first phrase is the same “Yo ya me voy” (I am leaving), but if on the first occasion he was sad about leaving to the desert, this time, his voice is of melancholy, this time he says that he is leaving to his friends, he is going far away. Maintaining the tradition, he is then followed with a second live voice as a singer stands up in the middle of the theatre to sing with him. The song progresses and a third voice stands up and in the main choir seven more people start signing. This is then joined with a choir of 100 prerecorded people singing in unity. The song grows and repeats itself three times, in which he tells us that he is going away, asking for them to give him their blessing and telling his parents to not cry for him. The dancer moves slowly to the downstage area, looking back at the life that is being left behind. The screens become flowers reminiscent of the traditional processions in Mexican towns. The dancer arrives at the mask and picks it up, carrying him off stage slowly.

DuEls is a dance film by the renowned Swedish director Jonas Åkerlund. It is based on Nagelhus Schia Productions’ successful dance performance choreographed by Damien Jalet and Erna Omarsdottir first presented at the Vigeland museum in Oslo in 2020. Through a series of short and visceral pieces performed in the form of a tour performance through the museum, the dance contributes to release the concentrated energy in Vigeland's iconic sculptures.

A portrait of people dancing, of gesture, of the body, of pleasure, of emotion... A collage of image and sound in which locations in Barcelona act as a stage and the rhythm of everyday life as a counterpoint.