Dance review: Paper Mountains conjures an apocalyptic realm of paradoxes
World premiere from choreographer Anya Saugstad is full of powerful vignettes and contrasting elements
Paper Mountains. Photo by Bray Jorstad
Anya Saugstad’s Paper Mountains was at the Scotiabank Dance Centre on November 23 as part of The Dance Centre’s annual Dance In Vancouver series
PARADOXES ARE AT the centre of Anya Saugstad’s Paper Mountains, which had its world premiere as part of Dance In Vancouver this past weekend.
At several points throughout the piece, dancers collapse on the floor motionless, and then reach assuredly for the sky with energy stretching out through their fingertips. Elsewhere, their movements are slow and sinewy as arms scoop through the air and curve into circles, but later become sharp to form boxy shapes. We see that rest can result in motion, and strength can yield softness. These contradicting ideas play into an overarching theme of evolution that choreographer Saugstad has really nailed in Paper Mountains.
Several interesting visuals are created through costuming (which is by Saugstad) and lighting (courtesy Andie Lloyd). Dancers Eowynn Enquist, Nasiv Sall, Oksana Maslechko, Sarah Hutton, and Shion Skye Carter wear fully sequinned tanks, shorts, and dresses in silver, black, red, and pink—looking like dazzling starlets, which provides a drastic contrast with their surroundings. There’s a thick fog that blankets the stage throughout the show, conjuring an apocalyptic atmosphere with warm spotlights that reflect off the shimmering outfits. Elongated shadows appear beneath the haze. Though unsettling at times, these design choices feel fitting for the concept at hand.
The soundtrack by musicians Stefan Nazarevich and Amanda Sum adds effectively to that imagery. A deep, rolling thunderclap often reverberates around the theatre, paired with a build-up of crackling that brings to mind embers and electricity. Then there’s Sum’s light and ethereal humming, cutting through the gloom with delicate power.
Saugstad began choreographing Paper Mountains during the pandemic, which feels evident in lots of the piece’s partner work. Though there isn’t much physical contact, the performers do a good job of connecting with each other in space, mirroring pushes and pulls from a distance.
Because the movement here alternates so swiftly between floor-bound and upward-reaching, the dancers could use a bit more grounding to hold themselves stable (there are a couple shaky single-leg balances during the first half of the piece). But the floorwork in particular is silky smooth, with fluid rolls, slides, and transitions.
The tableaux vivants created throughout the piece are also really impactful. In one instance, the dancers freeze with their hands raised to shield their eyes from the spotlight glaring down at them. With their scintillating outfits and unwavering stances, they deliver a captivating moment.
A bit of quiet solace comes when fake snow begins to drift down from the rafters. It seems to bring comfort despite all the chaos that has come before—yet another paradox. With its ever-evolving imagery and contrasting textures, Paper Mountains has an endless amount of layers and nuances to offer. 
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