Moopim

One woman… or… four and a man.
The outdoor is the middle-east.
They live inside an inner world.

Occupying a mental territory torn by the duality of living a life of freedom in a place where others cannot. Underscored by the live accompaniment of composer Brian Prunka on the oud (a traditional Arabic instrument), writhing, undulating bodies unite and collide, ricocheting between manifestations of sensual pleasure, joy and tenderness to anger, fear and madness

Credits

Fall 2006 (52 Min)

Choreography: Saar Harari & Lee Sher

Dramaturge: Lee Sher

Live Music by the composer / improviser: Brandon Terzik

Costume Designer: Lee Sher

Light Designer: Bruce Steinberg

Performers: Russella Fusco, Ellen Cremer, Brandon Terzik, Rachel Okimo, Lee Sher, Saar Harari.

Company Photographers: Rachel Roberts and Justin Bernhaut.

The work was commissioned and presented by Performance Space 122 in NYC on September- October 2006 and again on January 2007.

“Moopim” was made possible by the support of:

  • Performance Space 122
  • The Office of Cultural Affairs, Consulate General of Israel in NY
  • Bossak/Heilbron Charitable Foundation
  • The Jerome Foundation

Reviews

“The Israeli contemporary choreographers Saar Harari and Lee Sher moved to New York two years ago and promptly made a name for themselves”

…”Moopim, unflinching, intensely personal piece.The performers’ ferocious, in-your-face honesty demands attention: when they undulate, they’re frankly sensual, and when they struggle, they mean it. ” – The New Yorker

Saar Harari and Lee Sher left Israel for New York City two years ago. But in a sense they have never been gone, for their native country looms large in their work. For “Herd of Bulls,” presented last year by LeeSaar the Company, Mr. Harari and Ms. Sher abstracted the physical language of a soldier in a violent landscape. In the similarly turbulent “Moopim,” which opened on Wednesday night at Performance Space 122, a choreographic vocabulary is drawn from taut movement and strangulated speech rooted in lonely, churning and violent sexual frustration. “Moopim” spills out into repeated, crashing falls and high-energy rises, writhing, running catches, mystifying semaphoric gesturing and rhythmic huffing. – The New York Times