Fuerza Bruta
Currently, the Lynn Wolfson Stage inside the Adrienne Arsht Center’s Sanford and Dolores Ziff Ballet Opera House in Miami has been transformed to house an undulating production of the international hit, Fuerza Bruta, that plays now through July 5th.
Spanish for “Brute Force”, the show has its roots in Argentina where it premiered in Buenos Aires in 2005. Since then, the theatrical sensation has played major cities worldwide including London, Berlin, Lisbon, and New York among many others.
Created by Artistic Director Diqui James, along with collaborators Alejandro Garcia and Fabio Daquila, the production eschews traditional themed storytelling, and instead presents a montage of visceral vignettes left open for interpretation by a diverse crowd.
Straying from tradition, audience members enter the theatre from the building’s loading dock, which leads directly into a converted lounge area hosted by Miami’s popular Barton G.
Drinks and snacks are sold while music pumps from the industrialized setting, replete with heavy black draped walls and cool blue overhead lighting.
At show time, a curtain rises, and audience members are ushered into the performance space where they each stand shoulder to shoulder in one big, vast, compact rectangle. Metal scaffolding towers occupy two of the corners.
A pulsing musical beat by the fourth creative member of the “Fuerza Bruta” team, Gaby Kerpel, begins to pump loudly from all sides, and a man walking on a treadmill enters on a large moveable platform that sets the stranger’s pace just above eye level. From a distance, he is walking through a sea of gazing human heads.
The treadmill speeds up and suddenly “Walking Man” (Martin Buzzo) becomes “Running Man” as he encounters a slew of problematic obstacles.
He bumps into pedestrians, trips over outdoor café tables and chairs, and bursts through concrete walls in his frenetic attempt to keep going despite all else.
“Walking Man” could represent any man, and the trials and tribulations he faces while forging through daily life, or it could represent nothing at all. James presents visual concepts, but insists that viewers interpret on their own.
Two women, suspended from the ceiling on cables, run and tumble perpendicular to a waving Mylar tarp. Five dancers brutally tear apart a living space built of paper walls and ceiling, while bashing confetti filled boxes over each other’s heads in the process. Some audience members are invited to join in.
Four other women spend time swimming, sliding, and forming synchronized formations in a Lucite pool suspended above the audience.
Each scene is unique and remains mutually exclusive from the next.
In rave fashion, water is squirted from above onto some audience members as the show comes to a close.
Most take to it, as the music intensifies and an overhead voice offers an invitation to continue partying in the neighboring Barton G lounge, once again revealed by the rising entry curtain.
The kinetic energy of the show appeals to those familiar with the Miami club scene. Others are left to interpret what they’ve just experienced on their own.