Freedom Sonata – The (Ill-)Discipline of Freedom

The opening of Freedom Sonata is defined by an unsettling silence, thick with tension. On the periphery, a surprising detail catches the eye: several pairs of bright, recognisable trainers, out of place in such an ethereal environment. These mundane, sporty objects seem to bide their time, hinting at something yet to unfold – an almost dissonant chromatic detail that subtly underscores the constant pull between order and interruption. The ensemble of dancers, characterised by varied physicalities and distinct styles, enters tentatively, like a collective still searching for its identity.

Gat starts from the premise that freedom is often a misunderstood and misused concept. If it is easy to strip away people’s freedom or rights, choreography can offer a space to explore the tension between individual and collective freedom, and to examine which types of authority are constructive or destructive.
Gat’s choreography – precise, mathematical, yet with moments of sharp unpredictability – builds a vision of freedom that is not an absence of constraint, but rather an ongoing negotiation between the individual and the collective. Each dancer performs as though in pursuit of their own autonomy, yet always within the framework of a larger, watchful system that governs, challenges, and shapes their actions.

This tension is echoed in the structure of the piece. The choreography is, at times, reminiscent of the logic of team sports – rugby comes to mind – where personal initiative must respond to collective rules, and collective action demands intense coordination and shared intent. This is evident in the moments where the dancers synchronise the act of donning trainers or when they collectively lay down the white linoleum, their movements an athletic and theatrical gesture that symbolises the transition between collective effort and individual expression.

One of the most talked-about – and undeniably potent – aspects of the performance is its musical choices. Tracks from Kanye West’s The Life of Pablo dominate (perhaps too heavily for my own musical taste), interspersed with the second movement of Beethoven's Sonata Op. 111, a grave and meditative piece. This juxtaposition does not merely create a striking aesthetic contrast, but also places the audience in the midst of a complex ethical and perceptual dilemma, particularly in relation to the controversy surrounding West.

This musical tension is never resolved; rather, it becomes a dramaturgical force of its own. The timeless elegance of the piano and the raw irregularity of the rap beat intertwine, two opposing forces that both attract and repel one another. The dancers navigate this field of forces by shifting the quality of their movement from vibrant to restrained, occasionally almost meditative.

Choreography as a Social Score

Freedom Sonata is a free interpretation of the classical sonata form, consisting of three distinct choreographic movements unfolding in a series of tableaux: groups that form and dissolve, sections punctuated by light and darkness, and moments of explosive movement alternating with stillness. The lighting – or more precisely, the deliberate creation of shadows, experienced as truly dark moments – is not merely functional but deeply dramaturgical, crafting visual scores that guide the gaze, mark ruptures, and impose silences.

In this ever-evolving landscape, the choreography forges a collective language, a grammar of presence and listening. Intimate moments collide with physical explosions: embraces, lifts, contests of endurance. A delicate irony emerges at times – most notably in the finale, as dancers return to the stage now dominated by the entirely white dance mat, dressed in black – jackets, undergarments, trousers – in a minimalist reimagining of the vulnerable yet ever-ready body.

Freedom Sonata seems to offer a specific view of freedom, one not rooted in absolute autonomy but in structured interdependence – a freedom that exists within the framework of rules, rather than in defiance of them. Much like team sports, individual choices matter only insofar as they harmonise with the rhythm and objectives of the collective. The previously mentioned actions of putting on trainers in perfect synchrony or of collectively laying down the white linoleum – in perfect time, almost as if performing an athletic ritual – becomes the symbol of an organised, responsible freedom, forged in collaboration and mutual trust.  

Gat makes this point clear in the pre-performance talk. “Freedom”, he asserts, “is a matter of responsibility”. In his choreographic approach, this principle manifests as a constant negotiation between autonomy and structure, between impulse and restraint. The performers operate within an unwritten yet shared set of rules, where each personal decision becomes a relational gesture, and every movement contributes to a larger network.

A Designed Freedom

Every element of Freedom Sonata reveals meticulous attention to detail: the set, the lighting, the musical choices, the diverse cast of performers. The whole is cohesive and thought-provoking. But it is precisely this flawless control that, at times, risks locking in the very theme the performance seeks to explore.

The freedom presented by Gat is clear, calculated, and structured. But therein lies the potential pitfall: it sometimes seems too choreographed, leaving little room for failure, excess, or the unexpected. The dance is powerful, yet rarely dangerous. The mistake, the deviation, the anarchic impulse never fully materialise.

What remains is a work of great intellectual depth and discipline, offering a nuanced and unresolved meditation on the concept of freedom. Yet, in its flawless structure, it may paradoxically limit the very freedom it endeavours to investigate. Freedom Sonata embodies an idea that captivates, but leaves a lingering question: what happens to freedom when it is subsumed by the very system it seeks to challenge?

Written from the performance of 8 March 2025, Berliner Festspiele, Berlin.

 

Freedom Sonata

Choreography, Scenography, Lighting design: Emanuel Gat

Created with and interpreted by: Tara Dalli, Noé Girard, Nikoline Due Iversen, Pepe Jaimes, Gilad Jerusalmy, Olympia Kotopoulos, Michael Loehr, Emma Mouton, Abel Rojo Pupo, Rindra Rasoaveloson, Sara Wilhelmsson

Technical Director: Guillaume Février 

Sound Design: Frédéric Duru
Company Management: Marie-Pierre Guiol 

Production Management: Mélanie Bichot

Music: Ludwig van Beethoven – Piano Sonata No. 32 in C Minor, Opus 111, second movement, played by Mitsuko Ushida and recorded in 2006, Kanye West – The Life Of Pablo (2016)