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Face to face

Sublime expressions of the self: Ido Tadmor.

Tadmor performed alongside pianist Ohad Hitman and singer Adi Cohen and a crowd pleasing performance it was. A trained dancer, his signature style is a combination of ballet, gymnastics and contemporary dance moves. At the show titled “You”, the trio sang and danced their way into the hearts of the full house with a repertoire that comprised a poignant love song in English with the rest rendered in Hebrew.

Elohim (Lord), balaila (night) a word or two of the smattering Hebrew I knew, registered. I could tell from these words and the melody, they were songs of communing with the Lord or a loved one. And somehow, it didn’t matter that we didn’t speak the language. Hitman, Cohen and Tadmor sang and danced with verve and feeling. When the applause was done and the multi-talented trio had posed for photos with some very young admirers, we got talking at the dressing room of the NCPA’s Experimental Theatre.

They’d performed non-stop but he didn’t look the least bit tired. Where did all that energy come from?

From dancing. The energy comes from dancing. And from continual practice, he says.

And you don’t get exhausted?

“No. I love it, love dancing. It’s a raw energy which brings our inner animal to the fore. I feel electricity when I dance. Like that little kid in that English film whose name I forget.”

Keep talking, I tell Tadmor, the name will come. It does. To me. Billy Elliot. “Yes. I feel exactly like Billy Elliott when I dance. The thing is, everyone can dance. But people are losing the ability to feel along with their sexual energies....The best dancers are connected to their inner animal, their energy.” When he says that I am somehow reminded of the “Golden Compass”, a movie based on the first book of Philip Pullman’s Dark Materials trilogy.

But most human beings, in Tadmor’s considered opinion, have a tendency to put up blocks and barriers connected to fears, education, religion, laws.

“You saw how the musicians danced tonight. I went to study music and I insisted that Ohad learn to dance, which he did for two years. I believe everyone should dance and express their inner animal selves.”

I don’t know about that animal self bit, I only know that I feel most alive when I sing and dance. I don’t tell Tadmor that, I say: “Most animals, with certain exceptions, can’t reason and think or feel strong emotions.”

He responds with a quick: “How do you know they can’t?”

I change the subject. I tell him he sings very well. So well, had he ever considered music as an alternative profession?

“No, never. Absolutely not.”

Why not?

“Because dance is my life. There can be no alternative.”

Why ever not? If you had to choose… “OK then, maybe in another life.”

Time to switch tracks again. I ask him about his family. He says his father served in the armed forces and disapproved of his choice of profession. “You can imagine how he, an army man, must have felt about his only son becoming a dancer. I have an older sister. She is a very special person, she teaches in a school for the deaf. My mother was supportive of me though. My father came round only after I won several prizes and performed in many places all over the world. Now, he’s one of my biggest fans.”

We go down memory lane. Ido Tadmor became a principal dancer at the tender age of 19 after being conscripted (as all Israeli youth are) into the army. He danced with the Bat Dor and the Batsheva Dance companies in Israel before joining the Lar Lubovitch Dance Company in the U.S., as their lead dancer. Later, he was invited to perform as lead dancer with the Scapino Ballet company in Rotterdam. In due course, he began to choreograph shows and made a foray into TV and the movies as well. He has been a teacher as well and taught in leading dance companies in Israel and in Europe. In 1995, he formed his own troupe, leading it on tours to Tokyo, U.S., Madrid, Paris, and Moscow.

I ask if it is easy for dancers and other members of the arts fraternity to pursue their interests in Israel? “No”, he replies, “it’s not all that easy. It’s very difficult to get funding and dancers have to earn a living.” Like hold down nine-to-five jobs? “Like teaching dance and more often than not, waiting at tables.”

I say it’s funny how some top actors I can think of, like Bruce Willis, worked as waiters before making it big. “Waiters get paid fast and the tips are excellent. This helps to pay the bills, keep food in our bellies. Looking for funding of cultural activities is difficult, which is why I had to shut down my dance company three years ago.” It’s not as if they’ve been left high and dry; they dance with other companies, teach, and yes, wait at tables. He’s got his own TV show and an impressive Internet portal.

I quiz him about his dance regimen. He says he dances for five to seven hours a day. Just before a performance, he practises for even longer hours. He works out at the gym five times a week, running, weight lifting…On tour, it’s difficult to maintain the discipline, “but even here, we make the time for exercise. We make sure to eat nutritious food. Good sleep is important. A proper diet is very important.”

In 1990,when Tadmor received the Yair Shapira Award for the dancer of the year, he created his first work, “Fast Food”, as part of an event he produced for the “Israel AIDS Task Force” .

I had seen him in Dan Wolman’s acclaimed film “Tied Hands” in which he’d acted as an AIDS-infected dancer with Israel’s First Lady of Cinema, Gila Almagor, as his screen mom. “Tied Hands” was screened at the international film festivals in Mumbai and Pune, among other places.

“Oh, I’m glad. Did you like the film?”, he asks.

Now, the talk veers to India and his trips here. “I like India. It’s changing a lot. When I first came here six years ago, I felt as if I’d been here before. I felt at home.”

Does he believe in reincarnation? “Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I believe there’s more to life than what we see. But I would like to be reborn as a dancer. Absolutely.”

I ask him to tell me a bit about the most memorable moments of his career. “When I was informed that the Vienna Committee of the Arts had categorised me as one of the top 10 dancers in the world of modern dance. And when the legendary Mikhail Baryshnikov chose me to work with him on a three-month project.” Baryshnikov is his favourite dancer. What about Rudolf Nureyev? “I saw him perform abroad and in Israel which he visited four or five times. The first time he danced, he was amazing. But when he came to Israel last, he was old and sick. It was quite sad to see someone of his stature this way. He was my favourite when I was young. But when I look back now, I feel Baryshnikov is much better in technique and movement than he ever was. The inner animal came on stage when Baryshnikov danced, he was that kind of dancer.”

Now I want to know his views about Indian dance. Has he attended some recitals? Does he know that the Hindu pantheon is full of musicians and Shiva is the God of Dance? “Of course. We went to some shows the last time I was here. I’ve seen classical Indian dance, folk, Bollywood dances too.”

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread and I tell him, in my considered opinion, that Indian classical dance has generally remained static, barring exceptions like the late, great Chandrakala. He says, “Dance should reflect life. It should be about people, about emotions, social situations.”

Tadmor, Cohen and Hitman are scheduled to perform in New Delhi after a show at the Don Bosco Shelter at Wadala. I want to know why he went back to Israel although he could have stayed back in the U.S. or Europe. He says: “Because I had a mission to keep the dance movement going on in my country. Israel is not as violent as you think from the media. Israel doesn’t have good PR. I choose to live in Tel Aviv. It’s wonderful. I hardly feel there’s a war going on. If you came to Tel Aviv, you’d see a city full of art and energy and freedom.” I don’t tell him I’ve been there, done that…

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