WOMANLAND
My unofficial-official-biased-review (Orginally published to Substack September 26th, 2025)
I’ve long admired Roz. Rosalynde LeBlanc was the chair of the LMU dance department for the entirety of my undergraduate experience. Once, a faculty member told us that when they received her application, they pulled out two letters of recommendation: One from Mikhail Baryshnikov and one from Bill T. Jones. There’s not much to do at that point except hire her. Roz is many things to me1, and 18 year old me put her on the highest pedestal. As did 19 year old me. And 20 and 21 etc etc. Every student in the department spoke highly of her. Every single fiber of her being is intentional and powerful. When she lifts her arms, she sprouts wings.I am deeply grateful to have been invited to be a part of her work WOMANLAND, which premiered as part of LA Dance Project’s programming called LAUNCH: LA. I read a review of the work that I felt didn’t do it justice. I know that’s unfair because I was in it, but I also felt the prose was unsophisticated and clunky and the piece provided neither a detailed enough summary nor an interesting enough analysis. Readers were not A) jealous they didn’t see the work, B) upset they couldn’t see it again, or C) engaged enough to ignite discourse about the themes it covered. So, I figured that you all— who probably haven’t seen the work and have no idea who any of these people or institutions are— would of course want to hear my opinion on it all!
In a world of many voices, it’s often about listening to the silence. WOMANLAND opens on a tableau of eight dancers dressed in ill-fitting business attire. A secret insider will let you know that the characters are referred to as the “congressmen”. Audiences were ushered out after EMPARA’s SIMULACRA and the space was transformed from a 3/4 round with a dance floor composed of white carpet, into a more traditional proscenium stage with a desk and rug at center center which were oriented towards the back of the stage. WOMANLAND dancers were arranged in sets of two around the stage. Projected on the back wall was an AI generated rendering of individuals filing into the House Chamber. As the video progressed the House Chamber turned into a black and white sketch animation. Even further into the video it morphed into a colorful picasso-esque rendering of the animation. Eventually we circled back to the original visual. Dancers shift from one “stock image of a politician” posture to another. The first piece utilized quirky, peculiar movement and gave us a behind the scenes look at what we all know politicians are doing: jacking each other off and scratching their heads while they skim the constitution. Your eyes were locked on them the whole time because from beat three of the piece their eyes were locked on you. The only note from an audience member: “I wish it had been longer!” It’s fun, it’s campy, and it sets the stage for WOMANLAND. It’s clear what the message is. People in power do not have your best interest at heart. They’re making decisions that benefit their bottom line, not yours. The second vignette is a tribute to Harriet Tubman. Projections share the heroic work she did saving many many lives and contributions to the Abolitionist movement. Movement is rather minimal. Roz sits on the chair facing the audience (reminder the desk was backwards). There is a mic on the desk. Her face is in shadow. She is backlit. She wears an all white suit. Tubman was not given are salary from the government for her work, despite people in the White House advocating for her. In the end she was given a widow’s salary for her husband’s work that was less than half of what other soldier’s were paid. As the solo concludes, she muscles her way onto the desk and up to the mic as if to say something. The music ends. Quickly after, we hear a track by the LSU marching band. Drums erupt out of the speakers and filled the theater. The congressmen return and push the desk off stage with Roz still on it. She’s frozen in space. Three dancers enter from stage right as Roz is pushed off. They too are dressed in all white suits. When she is almost offstage, Roz salutes to the other dancers. At this point I went backstage and didn’t return for several numbers. There is a funny and cripplingly real mother daughter duet between (not irl mother and daughter) Roz and principle cast member Marissa Brown. No longer in white suits, they wear white tees and jeans. At the end of the duet, Daughter runs off stage. Mother is hot on her tail. Mother stops. She’s out of breath and shakes out her leg. Old joints don’t work the way they used to. She looks off stage. Daughter doesn’t return. Mother looks at the audience and laughs. Surely she’s coming back. The stage goes dark.A couch on a red rug is placed upstage. We enter a section called “Job Interview”. Principle cast Eliza Loran is our interviewee and Camilla Arana our Interviewer. Both are dressed in the same white suits we’ve seen before. The soundscape is primal and wild. An interview is, in fact, a hellscape so why not make it sound like one, complete with monkey wails and an interviewer that’s sniffing you and picking up your arms like you’re a piece of meat. There’s predator and prey in this room and we’re not quite sure the interviewee is making it out alive. A woman’s voice speaks. She’s asking questions. She’s business forward and frankly robotic.You’re not planning on getting pregnant are you?The question rings heavy through the space. It’s an unfair question. It’s a question that only a woman would be asked. Actually, sociologically, it makes men MORE appealing candidates if they have children. It makes them seem softer, responsible, and more wise. Paternal— if you will. It makes women seem soft, emotional, and more likely to put their children and family before work. Maternal— if you will. As the scene goes on Eliza starts cracking plastic eggs in her lap to reveal satin, red scarves. After a pile of scarves has amassed in her lap she stands up to reveal a pool of blood between her legs. Any viewer can presume she’s just bled through her white suit, but an acute viewer will clock the eggs and the mention of pregnancy—and an inside source will tell you that this is based on a true story of a woman who had a miscarriage during an interview with a Hollywood agent.This is what it means to live in WOMANLAND.The final vignette is a solo performed by Roz as she sits on a toilet. Lighting is moody and intimate. It would’ve been intimate no matter the lighting as she was completely nude. Her elbows rested on her knees and her hands were on her face. It exists in complete opposition to the opening number. In front of us is a woman in her most vulnerable state. There’s really not a way to summarize what Roz is able to do. In a world that feels big and performative, in a space that feels big and performative, we’re transported to a place where we’re profoundly alone. It was in the Saturday evening Q&A that Roz responded to one confused viewer who wasn’t pleased with the ending. From what I could understand he just didn’t seem too fond of the nudity and the intimacy and minimalist nature of the section. She posed that that’s actually the whole point. The whole point is that it’s something you don’t see. You don’t get to see when someone is alone, but we all are, at times. It’s something that’s been on her mind as a divorcee and soon to be empty nester. It’s the reality of life, and there’s a peculiarity to loneliness as a woman, when you’ve given and given to a relationship that ends, to kids that inevitably grow up. When being a wife and mother is supposed to be your whole purpose, it’s a loneliness that looms. When she answered, I cried. I thought of the mothers in my life who work unpaid for years and years. Who emotionally support dozens for decades. Who have manchild husbands. Women suffer in silence. Their suicide rates are lower and their methods are less violent. “79% of people who commit suicide are male. Of those 79%, men who have been divorced are 9 times more likely to commit suicide as compared to divorced women.”2 Women live. They let tears out behind closed doors. Away from kids and husbands. They work and save lives and try new things and watch as everyone grows up and grows away.It’s a performance that leaves you in tears. Every. Single. Time. I wish you could’ve seen it.
Choreographer: Rosalynde LeBlanc
Visuals: Michael Cole
Sound Designer: Eric Mason
Costume Designer: Dione Lebhar
Lighting Designer:Caleb Wildman.
Principals: Camilla Arana, Marissa Brown, Rosalynde LeBlanc, Eliza Loran, Chelsea Roquero
Ensemble: Kevin Carpio, Madeleine Crowley, Sadie Crystal, Jordan Diamond, Emily Keller, Sydney Latimer, Camilla Machado, Kristine Pohle
Comments