VE»ER, daily, November 17th, 1999
The Resting Place of the World By Anja Golob
The cube begins to resemble the Democritean universe of atoms,
though activated by a likewise (in)active particle. The dance gains
momentum with seemingly too loud music - the audience receive
yellow ear-plugs as a means of protective device - the movement
becomes impetuous and overthrows the axes, thus driving the
elements to intermingle - walls becoming the floor and vice versa.
The action then rushes into an apparent journey of no return with
the velocity of the latest German passenger trains (really of
extreme rapidity), being propelled mostly by the mutual impact of
the elements within the cube - inside the terminal, and not so
much by the universality of substance.
We are under the impression that they are interested
predominantly in themselves and not in the global significance of
the problem. In this regard FariË's Terminal, performed by Flota
(the fleet), can be seen as a picture with a dramaturgy of points,
and not having an inclination towards any kinds of curves.
As such, the Terminal is above all an attack, a blast, an action
and being all this purely because it has a firm rational basis. In
view of the previous performance (the Island), the one in
question is charged with a distinct content, since it has a
tendency towards concretization and actualization of the existing
problems, and not so much towards Şstorytelling´ (such devotion
to storytelling was apparent - even more so than in the Island -
and in From a Desert Through a Forest which FariË dreamt up and
staged with the Diversions Dance Company from Cardiff, Whales
and which guest appeared in Cankarjev Dom. Notwithstanding,
the Terminal with its intelligent basic point, is easy to understand
and is of firm and accurate movement. If its metaphor is - the
resting place of the world - the movement and the contents of the
performance as such are its opposite.
 

MLADINA, weekly
IN THE MOUSETRAP By Jaöa KramaröiË Kacin
It should suffice to say that in the Terminal a rarely obtained
close contact between Flota (the fleet) and live-performing, at full
volume window-rattling Psychopath band - they are the reason
why the usherette provides you with ear-plugs - is achieved,
whether you be an enthusiast or merely enduring it with patience.
And that FariË, whose performances (the last one being the
Island) at times turn wishy-washy, has with an image of the
involuntary captivity of the passengers at an airport terminal - at
first a Şhuman´ party, turning into a pool of fierce sharks or rats in
a cage - set off such a rush of sensation, devised such a
high-explosive bomb that anyone with a spark of mutiny in their
guts has to subject himself to it. Or; to put it this way: anyone
who cares for the dancing bravura, if not acrobatics, with which
the dancers Jana Menger, Rosana Hribar, Tanja Skok, Gregor
Luötek and the only Slovene break-dancer Matej Kejűar - heart
and soul beside themselves - fly across the air, dangle and glue
themselves to the walls. It rules.
 

Radio Slovenia; October 18th, 1999 - 1.00 News , by Jasna
äkrinjar Taufer
Last night, the choreographer Matjaű FariË, with his dancers Jana
Menger, Matej Kejűar, Rosana Hribar and Tanja Skok, staged his
latest performance the Terminal, also attended by Jasna äkrinjar
Taufer:
ŞLast night witnessed the appearance of the dance company Flota
(the fleet) with their project the Terminal in the Cekin Mansion in
Ljubljana, bearing the sign ŞMother, Country, God´ in capital
letters.
It had beforehand been stated in the invitation to refrain from
attending should one be susceptible to noise - the warning had
been meant seriously - since ear-plugs were distributed to the
audience. Noise indeed constitutes a sign of our civilization and
especially of the airport where the story takes place.
The fame of the Psycho-Path band (originally from Murska Sobota)
has been spread all over the world by their live music. The band -
with their Şmotion picture´ music- last night helped giving birth to
the Terminal , choreographed by Matjaű FariË.
They 've got clocks telling slow time, they 've got a glass cage
entrapping a man, a redhead, a blond and a brunette. They've got
airplane flashlights and head-splitting music - same tone of the
recurrent sound. All four whirl in an embrace, until a boy in a
T-shirt rushes wildly into the cage. The dancer's bodies squash
him upon the walls, yet he manages to spring impetuously, until he
comes to a standstill in a corner.
The rhythm of the performance ranges from minimal movements to
abrupt actions. The reclining glass walls permit instability,
functioning as an impellent. The energy blazes and in their stiff
formal suits they sway in their poses as if some sort of hostages.
With a resolute hurl one of them literally walks on air.
Until everything quietens into a boredom webbed wait.
 
 

POMURSKI VESTNIK, October 28th, 1999
This world is no longer mine, though it is fascinating.

THE TERMINAL
An image of the world with not enough room for Myself and the
Other. By Bea Baboö Logar
The dancers in a glass cage (Gregor Luötek, Jana Menger, Matej
Kejűar, Rosana Hribar and Tanja Skok) convincingly pass from the
initial cold politeness into a similarly cold murdering aggression.
Shown as business people on a trip, in grey suits, boring and
well-bread, they suddenly find themselves unable to go anywhere.
Therefore their initial elegant greeting ceremony, especially upon
the arrival of the Other, who looks quite different from them, turns
into a furiously torn movement. At first alarmed and agitated by his
arrival, they thereafter all pounce at him. With the fluttering and
the snapping of the bodies against the walls of the cage,
executioners turn into victims, victims into executioners in a
scope of all kinds of negative emotions that both sides give vent
to.
One can notice that - alongside all that movement and intertwining
of bodies - everyone above all guards the boundaries of his body,
as if there was an invisible electric circumference enclosing him
and thus rejecting every attempt of reconciliation and preventing
him from crossing the borders of his own enclosure.
A prison within a prison.
Yet it is understandable and presumed that all this tremendous
effort is essentially superfluous and futile. It leaves a bad taste in
your mouth - a sense of guilt and remorse - nevertheless it
doesn't provide you with deliverance through recognition.
A one-hour ritual of hatred and fear, accompanied by suitable light
and sound effects, literally nailed an observer to his seat, his
stomach and heart pulsating painfully. The performance was in
resonance with a most appropriate and not excessively noisy
PSYCHO-PATH rock band (Denis OletiË, Janez élebiË, Jernej äavel,
Matej äavel, ätefan KovaË and Meli FabËiË - the sweetest voice of
this new, strange, distressing world), that are sung praise to and
have been awarded many prizes.
 

Dnevnik newspaper, November 2nd, 1999
 NO WAY OUT
 A dance performance and a rock concert in one. By Tatjana Greif
 The live-performed music acts as the driving power, an impellent, that provokes action and the mood of the male and
 female dancers. The rhythm of rock - played by the Psychopath band - symbolising the noise of our civilisation, simply
 strikes the dancers against the walls, causes them to toss and turn and cuts the performance into separate segments.
 The dance keeps pace with the increasing intensity of sound; it oscillates and then subsides - from complete stillness,
 through lyric, minimal awakenings to moments of saturated dynamics.
 All five male and female dancers have once more shown their excellent condition, technical skill and inexhaustible
 stamina. Praises also go to Psycho-Path rock band from Murska Sobota, undoubtedly one of the first-class musical
 ěterroristsî in Slovenia today, with their lead-singerís (Meli FabËiË) penetrable voice.
 The Terminal, lasting little under an hour, is a blend of a dance performance and a rock concert. Captivity as the key
 perception of society, is articulated via multiplied dynamics, clutched within the small walled space, abducted, hindered,
 constricted; as such it breeds explosions but only on an external impulse. The Terminal is alluring and charming in view
 of its content and aesthetics.
 

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