In Praise of the Simple

Wandering around the net, as one does, I came across a lovely video of Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary of Denmark participating in a traditional dance of the Faroe Islands, the kædedans, a circle dance (for a loose definition of "circle") that just so happens to have the same pattern as Branle Simple, one of the "opening branles" published by Thoinot Arbeau (Jehan Tabourot) in 1589 and described briefly by me nearly a decade ago, when I was doing more with Renaissance dance.  Double left, single right.  Repeat ad infinitum.  Frederik and Mary both had a little trouble catching the pattern, in exactly the same way that I've seen people have trouble with Branle Simple nowadays (no, really, go left twice then right, but only once to the right, no, it's not symmetrical...).  That's kind of charming; don't they prep royalty before these events?

Here's the video:

(Video courtesy of BILLED-BLADET Magazine) 

Two things caught my attention: first, obviously, they are singing throughout, which apparently is traditional.  I don't know how far back this style of dance dates, but one of the comparatively well-documented (by which I mean known to have existed, but without detailed step descriptions) forms of medieval dance is the carole, a circle dance with singing.  Living traditions haven't necessarily been handed down unchanged over multiple centuries -- as a historian, the very word "traditional" makes me twitch -- but this one seems like it might well be pretty close to a medieval form.  I don't know much about medieval dance in general or caroles in general, but I think I may want to look into them.  (Happily, someone has written a book, if I can manage to get my hands on a copy!) 

And that brings me to the second thing.  My usual experience of so-called "medieval" dance nowadays is people doing wildly out-of-period things (Playford country dances!) or elaborate choreographies extrapolated from very minimal evidence (I won't embarrass people by linking).  Such choreographies may have existed, though we can't document any until the fifteenth century. 

But, in medieval dance as in fifteenth and sixteenth century dance, I am coming to believe that modern dancers may well be badly betrayed by our own skill and sophistication.  In that video, they dance the same simple movements for almost seven minutes.  Now, admittedly, the singing makes it more exciting, but I can't think of too many groups today that would want to dance Branle Simple alone, unornamented, for six-plus minutes, even if they got to sing.  People want things that are complicated and things that are challenging. 

I think our cosmopolitan dance tastes may be tilting modern reenactments of period balls (and the perception of period dance) much too far toward elaborate recital pieces and away from simpler group dances that are less about showing off fancy steps and patterns than about communal experience.  I've certainly enjoyed showing off fancy footwork, but I've also taken enormous joy in simpler dances, melting into the music, and the easy, repetitive movements, and the group experience, my mind purely in the moment. 

Were those moments more authentic historical experiences?  I suspect that they may have been, at least, a larger part of historical practice than they generally are today outside of the folk dance traditions like those of the Faroese.  Maybe historical dance researchers should look more to those, not for specific dances, necessarily, but for the general nature of the experience.  It's difficult to overcome our short attention spans and tendency to be easily bored.  Good reconstructions of dances are (relatively) easy.  But good reconstruction of experiences means trying not just to recreate the steps, but also the mindset and context.

To that end, perhaps we should try, hard, to better appreciate the simple.