When one experiences happiness, another expects a smile. When one feels shy and holds his tongue, another expects inward submersion and a crooked posture. Case in point, society often correlates emotion and/or speech with body language. Gia Kourlas’ Telling A Tale Using The Body’s Language dismally relates the showcase of Ralph Lemon, an “elusive artist” who “thrives on producing more than just a singular work but also a web of ideas that splinter off to awaken more possibilities [such as the disassociation of speech and movement].”

The title of the film, “A Paradance: The inherent protest and émigré nature of performance (and how it could belong nowhere),” plays off the term “paratext,” which refers to “the materials in a work that accompany the book, from the introduction to jacket blurbs.” In a theatrical sense, the “paradance” is the development of stage elements vital to the plot. Kourlas spares no detail in describing the oddities of Paradance, such as the “image of a dog” that “appears on one side of the auditorium, a giraffe on the other.” Kourlas, however, fails to elaborate on the significance of the animals and leaves readers questioning their purpose. Mr. Lemon takes the stage thereafter and “talks about the body and what goes into creating the language of movement, saying one thing and then giving it a twist.” Yet again, Kourlas comes up short as she neglects to illustrate an example of Lemon’s speech and subsequent “twist.”

Holistically, the review manages to perplex and exacerbate; it requires several readings and vaguely communicates the main ideas of the performance. The plot remains murky, at best, and the obscure reference to “Meditation,” a similar film, proves superfluous. Lastly, I’m not sure whether to refer to Paradance as a film, performance, or showcase, yet I have written all three to avoid potential criticism.