Maldonne

On stage, dresses. Evening, wedding, bedroom, everyday, ball gowns. Sequined,
long, puffy, fitted, too big. Dresses that fly, sparkle, crackle, spin, trail or fall. Empires, whalebone dresses, dresses that waltz to Leonard Cohen, or weeping dresses, badly sewn, light, without underwiring, tied on the belly. And then there are dresses on their own, rebellious and playful, set against a backdrop of electronic bass. On stage, five dancers wear these dresses. Five dancers who sweat because they're alive.
Leïla Ka stages sorority at its most obvious in a powerfully theatrical way, with formidable precision, driven by a desire to reshuffle the cards, since there has been a misunderstanding and inequalities persist.

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