What to do when you’re putting only one or two dancers onstage

By Larry Sousa

Solos and duos are notoriously hard, and so is the plastic chair I sit in when I’m judging them. I’ve been in that uncomfortable chair for 15 years, judging solo after solo, duo after duo (and everything else too). I could ask for a more comfortable one, but in a way, the chair helps me do my job better. If I’m not fidgeting in my seat, I must really be enjoying the dance.

Here are some of my favorite dos and don’ts for solos and duos; perhaps they can help strengthen your dances.

(Photo by Richard Calmes)

Solos

Do tailor the choreography to the dancer.
Obvious, right? As it turns out, many choreographers these days are tailoring their steps to the judges instead of their soloists’ strengths. Maybe it’s the judges’ fault. At just about every competition in every state, we seem to give the top awards to the same type of contemporary-ish solo. And it’s no help that our industry now hosts a glut of influential “star” convention teachers, all of whom seem to hail from the same corner of Contemporaryville. In one way or another, we’ve all been indoctrinated.

You’ll know this familiar dance by its frenetic finger gestures and insanely tilted battements featuring, shall we say, questionable hip placement. Note the requisite girl’s uniform: black booty shorts, a loose-fitting man’s dress shirt, and long, stringy, wet hair. And the song? A standard-issue stream-of-consciousness indie-folk diatribe. I know that song! Wait—no, I don’t—yes, I do—or do I? Either way, it’s swell to listen to yet nearly impossible for your audience to connect to. That’s a problem, because inviting audiences to participate on an emotional level is one of your most important goals, especially when your dancer is out there all by herself.

Here are some figures worth noting, taken from the most recent solo competition I judged:

• Ballet/pointe solos: 3 entries
• Musical theater solos: 6 entries
• Tap solos: 10 entries
• Contemporary solos: 51 entries 

For the record, I love contemporary solos—when they are well executed, entertaining, and emotionally accessible. Of those 51 contemporary soloists, I’d say 9 had a true command of the style and technique they were aiming for. The rest seemed to offer vague sketches of what they thought we wanted to see.

Here’s what judges hope to see: a unique dance that fits the dancer, not the same solo everyone else is doing. So, why not interview your dancer before you start his or her solo? Does he have a favorite painter? Does she play a sport? A musical instrument? Dig for ideas from which to launch a one-of-a-kind story. But proceed down this road with caution. If she says, “I want to do frenetic finger gestures and wear black booty shorts and a man’s dress shirt and have wet hair,” then take back the reins and go searching in the opposite direction.

Don’t use today’s most popular music.
Please, I beg you, don’t! Judges are sick and tired of hearing the same songs over and over. And I bet your studio’s parents are too. Have mercy on us all.

But if you absolutely must—if your darling soloist puts a gun to your head and forces you to use “Circus” by Britney Spears, then put an unexpected twist on it. Your judges have already seen about 3 million dances to this song. Every one has employed—surprise—the look and feel of an actual circus. (Never mind that the song is, ironically, about individuality, leadership, and rising above the crowd.)

Inviting audiences to participate on an emotional level is one of your most important goals, especially when your dancer is out there all by herself.

So what can you do to make your “Circus” different? Go beyond the surface of the lyrics and search for the bigger themes. Decide what your song is really about. If you stick with the obvious choices, you’re stacking your piece against the many versions already swimming around in the judges’ heads (plus the video, which is pretty fabulous). Are you sure you want to compete against all that?

And that’s the problem with using the most popular music: It comes with a world of baggage. Getting noticed is hard enough in today’s competition world, so take the road less traveled. Better yet, pave your own.

Don’t try to trick the judges.
Win our hearts instead. There’s a big difference between choreography and a series of tricks masquerading as choreography. Judges have been onto this for a while now, but some teachers have been curiously slower on the uptake. And I understand why; it’s human nature to feel that more is more. How could a soloist who does one grand jeté score higher than a soloist who does loads of switch leaps and acro and 32 fouetté turns, then grabs her leg and spins? Well, believe this: Many soloists have earned titles and top awards without even that one jeté.

Instead, these winners presented dances full of style, detail, character, and passion. Emotionally and physically, your soloist must commit to every moment. Judges usually sit very close to the dancers; even so, every detail should be articulated clearly. Because we’re close, we notice when a dancer places less importance on the details and more on the tricks. That’s not good.

It’s also worth mentioning that the more tricks you have in a dance, the more possibilities there are that something can go wrong. If your dancer does several challenging turn sequences, you’ve given him several opportunities to fall out of those turns, or travel, or hop. Small infractions indeed, but each little blip derails the viewers’ involvement; the soloist then has to get them interested again. If you put them through that too many times, they stop trusting the dancer. That, too, is human nature.

Remember, dance is an art that can take audiences on a vivid, thrilling journey. Certainly it is a physical achievement too. But once you let those relentless Dance Competition Tricks overpower your hard-fought style, emotion, poetry, story, and character work, then the war to win the audience’s hearts is over—and you’ve lost. Think of it another way: Two and a half minutes of tricks feels like a long time. Two and a half minutes of passionate dancing feels like seconds.

Do use the whole stage.
A soloist making an entrance feels to me like one little person entering a new world—like an explorer, if you will. Just before the dance begins, I think, “Will she conquer this vast world, or will the landscape overwhelm her?” Your soloist should claim the space and cover lots of ground. Help her turn terra incognita into terra firma with choreography that travels all over the stage. Otherwise, the piece will likely feel stagnant and the dancer can seem overpowered. Remember, it’s a solo. There’s no one else out there to pick up the energy.

If there is an exception to this, it’s for tap solos. In most dance competition venues, you can assume that the speakers will be blaring directly into the ears of the judges. So your tap soloist will need to spend a lot of time in the front areas of the stage so those well-rehearsed sounds can be heard. Even so, look for a few good opportunities to send your tapper around the stage from time to time.

Duos

Do create a relationship between the dancers.
It’s downright painful to watch a pas de deux where the deux don’t acknowledge each other onstage. Sadly, this is so common that I find myself giving special awards to the few partners who do create a relationship. But that shouldn’t be special; it’s expected, like pointing your feet.

I’ve seen more than a few duos performed to the classic Irving Berlin song “Sisters, Sisters.” More often than not, the dancers ignored each other while the lyrics were proclaiming, “There were never such devoted sisters . . . Caring, sharing,” and so on.

I realize how awkward it can be for young people to interact with each other during a dance. In my experience, this is mainly about fear. They’re kids—or worse,  teenagers! They feel uncomfortable expressing emotion to each other and making a connection in front of other people. If you are faced with this resistance, help them understand that their dance (like most) has a lot to do with acting. Emphasize that they are playing characters, not themselves. Name the characters and do whatever else you can think of to separate the dancers from these characters. (“You might not do this, but Juliet would.”)

And by all means, get the dancers to contribute choices that help your story along. Frame a dramatic moment, then ask them questions such as, “How can you show that your characters are angry with each other?” The goal is for the dancers to tell their story with honesty and believability. Ironically, young, timid performers have a better chance of getting there by way of entirely imaginary characters. They are more likely to feel safe if they’re preoccupied with fulfilling the technical needs of a character that is unlike themselves. 

Do pick music that helps your story.
If plucking a story out of thin air is not your strongest suit, let music be your inspiration. Pick songs that have a relationship built in (like “Sisters, Sisters”). There are a million of them. Once you’ve found your ideal song, don’t forget why you picked it. The lyrics are never enough to communicate a story to an audience. Your choreography and direction must do that.

Don’t be afraid of creating your own scenarios. Most dances are stories in one way or another. So force yourself to think like a writer. When you’re driving, put the radio on and play this game: You must imagine every song you hear as a duo. How would you justify using only two dancers for each song? Would you create two distinct characters, such as mother and daughter? Are they a puppy and kitten interacting? Are they two waves washing onto shore? Are they two pieces of string tying and untying themselves? The possibilities are endless. 

Don’t choreograph a solo for two bodies.
I’m surprised that I still see so many duos consisting merely of two dancers doing the same steps in unison. The two don’t relate to each other. There are no levels, intersecting lines, or opposing angles. They don’t work in counterpoint or stagger their rhythms. They rarely split up, and when they do, they use the same steps to travel away and back, symmetrically. That’s not much of a duo; it’s a solo that happens to be performed by two people.

A duo gives you the great advantage of two bodies to work with. Use them, differently. Think levels. Think intertwining. Think partnering! You can make your dance much more interesting while simultaneously giving your dancers the added lessons that come from engaging with each other, rather than merely dancing steps side by side.

Here’s an exception: If the central concept of your dance is about precision, then sure, have the dancers work in unison. But I’d reserve this option only for the rare occasion that you happen to have two dancers who look and move exactly alike. And be warned: One small mistake breaks the spell. Are you sure you want to take that chance?

Don’t let one dancer overpower the other.
You’ve worked hard to create two distinct characters and an interesting story. You’ve avoided unison steps and come up with choreography that is textured, layered, and interesting. Your two dancers have bonded and are truly performing together. Good work.

Now, observe them as individuals. Is each pulling his own weight in the dance? Is one dancer shining more brightly than the other? Look at every aspect: technique, acting, energy, style, stage presence, and anything else you can think of. Does one dancer have a stronger relationship to the audience than to her partner? Undo that immediately.

And look at your own choices. Does your choreography inadvertently favor one dancer over the other? Are there lead and supporting players? You hope not. I don’t mean to suggest that if you have one dancer doing six pirouettes, the other one should too. Just be sure your piece features a good balance of each dancer’s strengths and that one isn’t overshadowing or undermining the other. 

Got all that? Great! Now go out there and make your judges and audience think that those hard plastic chairs are comfy as a cloud.

More Advice From People Who Know What They’re Talking About

Here are more great tips courtesy of some of North America’s most experienced dance educators and judges: Rennie Gold (Massachusetts), Suzanne Citere (Florida), Fran Coyle (Ontario, Canada), Marcia Aller
Indiana), Jackie Decusati (New Jersey), April Nelson (Arizona), Gary Coburn (Rhode Island), and Mary Kate Felber and Mark Santoro (New York City).

DO choreograph shorter solos! Three minutes is an eternity for judges.
DON’T choreograph a grand jeté à la seconde to face the back; it features nothing but the student’s backside.
DO sit on the floor (the view judges have) and watch your dance. You’re looking for, shall we say, unflattering angles.
DO check the dancers’ feet and insteps while you’re down there.
DON’T forget teamwork. Your duo should no longer make sense if one of the dancers is missing. 
DO keep your costuming age appropriate (e.g., no studded bra tops for toddlers).
DON’T let the dancer choose her costume. 
DO travel your tap choreography.
DON’T miss the message. For example: the popular dance competition song “Endangered Species” is not about jungle animals; it’s about the strength and power of women.
DO stay within the format of the category.
DON’T over-rehearse a solo. Keep it new, free, and fresh.
DO encourage dancers to see the audience. The eyes are the single most significant tool for connecting with viewers.
DON’T ignore a prop, if you have one in your dance.
DO invite other teachers to take an objective look at your dance.
DON’T let young dancers “emote” to songs with mature lyrics such as “I ache for you.”

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