The LA horror dance troupe summons something special

The Highland Park neighborhood is one of the front lines of gentrification here in the great sprawl of Los Angeles. It has, in the last couple of years, moved into the “late hip” phase of the process, with the arrival of third wave coffee, wine shops, and restoration projects like Highland Park Bowl.

I imagine this is what Silverlake felt like in the early Aughts, albeit now with higher rents and more flipped houses. I also write this with full knowledge that I — in spite of my own public school/public assistance upbringing — am surely part of the problem. I like the retro bowling alley and the pizza place where they cut your piece to size before charging you for weighing it. These things are cool and I like cool things. Especially cool things where there is food.

What I like more is the funkiness of a neighborhood like Highland Park. When artists can rent a small space over a record store that’s maybe been there since the last time the neighborhood was “cool” and get up to deeply strange shenanigans. Before it’s all craft beer and craft jewelry. And then “craft” beer and “craft” jewelry. And then just Starbucks and real estate offices before the cycle begins.

That slice of time when a company like OdDancity can make a home.

Invoke marks my second trip to the tiny studio above that record shop to see the work of choreographer Alex Floyd (OdDancity), this time partnered with producer Bianca Crespo (Santa Mira Pictures).

The previous work, Marbles, had some hints of the magick of immersive but never quite delivered on the promise. This time out the company has created a creepy, engrossing, and — for the “right” person — disturbing meditation on the horrors visited on women in the form of three “possessions.”

Patrons enter the studio up a long darkened stairwell, where at the top they’re checked in and relived of their phone before entering the space where Invoke will take place. Stepping through the doorway reveals a circle of pillows which are meant to be sat upon, bringing the audience low to the ground and close to the action.

Tone at this point is up to the audience, and on preview night we had a chatty bunch so any vibe from the foyer was pretty much squashed until the three dancers emerged.

What took place next is exactly what I would hope for from a young company that’s experimenting with immersive dance performance in the horror genre. Each of the young women was “taken over” by a spirit in turn, given a solo piece that might have them distorting their form in an evocation of body horror tropes or connecting with a member of the audience circle to seemingly draw power from them to fuel their trance.

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Even when the execution of the choreography wasn’t tight — something that’s occasionally painfully obvious up close and to those who’ve spent their entire lives around modern dancers — the commitment to the piece was absolute. That quality, right there, is what sets one young company apart from another. You have to want it. You have to want to not just show it, but make the moment emotionally real and bring it into the space between performer and audience member.

Or, in this case, participant.

There are moments in Invoke where the dancers lead us through ritualized movements. On preview night it got cramped at points, but the pieces are all there. The vibe is true. The goal of creating a piece that walks the penumbra between art and occult is fulfilled. There’s an innately feminist strain to the work as well, with the spirits illustrating what brought about their doom and ultimately letting their rage loose upon the world. Hecate, triple goddess, would approve. (Apologies, Hecate, for presuming to speak for you. You know how arrogant we Scorpios get at this time of year.)

Now Invoke won’t be for everyone. If you’re driven by a thirst for high agency works that have clever dialogue you’ll find nothing for you here. If, however, you have a soft spot for experimental dance and art that mirrors aspects of high magick — don’t bother getting out the duck, I’m guilty as charged — there’s a good chance you’ll dig seeing this group test their limits.

At $30 the price may feel a little steep for an off-the-beaten path piece of art, but remember: we’re out here playing the roles of patrons of the arts. This isn’t consumerism. It’s a transaction of a different order.

Which brings me back to the beginning.

I know that the fate of LA is on the minds of those of us who can find a scrap of mental bandwidth between National politics, personal crises, and looming climate collapse. It’s my own fondest wish that between the construction boom we’ve seen unleashed and the 2028 advent of the Olympics that we can, together, find a balance point that will allow neighborhoods to thrive without displacing people. Both those who have made these neighborhoods home for generations, and the artists who seek sanctuary in them in order to hone their craft.

A great city deserves nothing less.

Invoke plays October 19th-21st at an undisclosed location in Highland Park’s prime commercial strip. Tickets are $30.

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