Remembrance of things past: Reflections on reflections

Shoma Uno’s 2023-24 free program choreographed by Kenji Miyamoto to Stéphane Lambiel’s musical selection that consists of Uno Helmersson’s Timelapse and Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel (“Mirror in the mirror”), seems to be reflective — even self-reflective — in more than one way. Generally, it is assumed to be reflective of the skater’s career overall: “the final bow”, “the closure of a chapter”, and a “photo album” of dear memories and impressions, to quote Shoma’s coach Stéphane Lambiel.

More specifically, those reflections materialise in the choreography and “iconography” of Shoma’s moves and poses, creating a multitude of mirrors and reflections within the program, literally and metaphorically. Mirrors reveal themselves, for example, in those moves that look as if the skater holds a small mirror in his open palm.

The mirror theme becomes much more pronounced at the beginning of the second part, however, right when Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel commences its lullaby-like triplets. Here, the skater sinks his upper body closer to the reflective ice surface and, transfixed in a true Narcissus fashion, reaches his arms toward what must ultimately be his own reflection.

Using the ice surface — the most fundamental tool that exists in this sport — as a mirror and a source of memories and reflections is a fascinating motif per se, as it mirrors well-known associations between water and memories, as well as water and forgetfulness: from the ancient river Lethe to the mirror of Galadriel in Tolkien’s lore, fountains and rivers were often used to revoke memories and understand — or see better — the past and, by understanding the past, the future.

Finally, the mirror motif reveals itself choreographically in abundant brief quotations of, and allusions to, Shoma Uno’s past programs. Whether intentional or not, these reflections allow us to see the glimpses of his past struggles and breakthroughs, tears and glory. Throughout the program, spectators are invited to follow and reflect on the unique life journey of an extraordinary athlete. They are encouraged to remember things from Shoma’s past, as well as things from their own past: the journey of Shoma’s life on the one hand, and the journey of their obsession on the other.

This is what this text is all about — a remembrance of things past.

I. The heartbeat: Kreutzer Sonata and Loco

Only a few seconds of this program pass by when we reach the first crossroads. Through the “staccato” movement of arms and elbows, this memory brings us back to two iconic programs from Shoma’s skating past: the 2014-15 Kreutzer Sonata and the 2016-17 Loco.

It brings us back to the time of his struggles with jumps like triple axel and quad toe (in 2014-15) during the last junior season, and then, already in seniors, with his self-confidence after the first disaster stroke and the first tears were shed at the 2016 Worlds — to all the anxieties and doubts as to whether he belongs to the top and whether he can succeed in this brutal sport. The Kreutzer sonata was the program that brought Shoma his first big international titles and records: the Junior Grand Prix Final and Junior Worlds gold medals, a record score of 84.87 at the Worlds. Loco was the program that earned Shoma his first world championship medal (silver) at the senior level, cementing his position at the very top of his discipline — a position that he proudly occupies to this very day. Both programs witnessed the early struggles and the early successes.

Looking at those reflections through the mirror of my own life — reflections of reflections, mirrors in the mirror — I find myself drowning in my first live impressions of Shoma’s skating. Although my fascination with his skating dates back to December 2015, Loco was the first program I saw live. It was the first program through which I came to know this athlete: first at the Rostelecom Cup 2016 where, despite the great Javier Fernández stealing the show with a masterful free skate, Shoma was still able to leave an indelible impression on me, pulling me into a wondrous world of his skating; and then in Helsinki in 2017, where he stopped mere 2.28 points short of winning his first world title.

Two months after the Helsinki Worlds, I opened my computer and found within me the desire to write about Shoma Uno and his skating. I created my first blog and started exploring something that I had little interest in before seeing Loco: the relationships between movement and music, the choreography, and the world of figure skating.

This was the moment my own heart started to beat in unison with Shoma’s skating, embracing all the struggles, anxieties, and stress of his competitive career.

II. The heartbreak: This Town and Dancing on My Own

While sifting through some old items that we never find the courage to throw away, we often come across things that evoke heartbreaking memories: memories that are no less dear to us even if they are material evidence of something we had lost or never achieved. In any skater’s program, one can find those old things — or “old furniture,” as David Wilson would call it — that can trigger memories.

About a minute and a half into Shoma’s program, one of such “old items” reemerges in the shape of a brief spread eagle with an expressive head roll.

This move became ubiquitous in Shoma’s programs over the last four or five years, with David Wilson’s This Town (the 2016-17 exhibition) and Dancing on My Own (2019-21 free program) being, to my knowledge, the first clear examples of its use in Shoma’s skating. Later, the “spread eagle head roll” reemerged in the 2021-22 Oboe Concerto and, finally, Timelapse/Spiegel im Spiegel, both choreographed by Kenji Miyamoto, but This Town and Dancing on My Own remain the origins of the trend, or so it seems.

Even though they were choreographed at different times and with very different ideas in mind, there was a point in time and space where the two programs intersected and (accidentally, perhaps) created something of a diptych: the Internationaux de France in Grenoble in 2019. The free skate in Grenoble marked the lowest point of Shoma’s career. On the next day, This Town revealed a transformed skater, one who passed the test and survived the worst.

As a witness to these events, I saw with my own eyes both the downfall and the resurrection, and I will probably never forget these scenes. I will never forget Shoma’s eyes right before the last fall on the triple axel in the free skate. And I will never forget his smile the next day. And, fast forward to the second part of the same season, I will never forget the way Dancing on My Own was skated in the Hague — the skate and the transformation that I was also lucky to witness live.

The spread eagle with an eloquent head roll in Timelapse/Spiegel im Spiegel, this inconspicuous short transition, mirrors and reverses the same move from Dancing on My Own, as if hinting at the change and the transformation that occurred in between.

Shoma may have been dancing on his own in Grenoble, but he is not alone anymore. The heartbreak has healed.

III. The stillness: Moonlight Sonata

The moment Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel starts lulling its listeners with its endless triplets in the second half of the program, it becomes almost impossible to avoid associations with Shoma’s 2018-19 free program choreographed by Mihoko Higuchi: Moonlight Sonata. From a musical standpoint, the same triplet pulsation accompanying the long sustained notes in the melody leaves little doubt that Pärt’s work was an intentional reflection of, and meditation on, the first part of Beethoven’s sonata. But it is not just the music: in some of its visual aspects, Kenji Miyamoto’s choreography, too, looks like an homage and a bow to Shoma’s past.

Just when the program is about to end, in the palpable stillness of Pärt’s music right before it fades away completely, the skater suddenly accelerates and almost aggressively throws himself into the final choreographic sequence — with all the abandon, and all the remaining energy and passion. 

Another spread eagle, this time with arms aloft, slowly melting and metamorphosising into a more sensuous shape of the Ina Bauer, with the skid spiral near the edge of the rink punctuating the end of the entire sequence — this striking visual display of skating skills and upper body virtuosity, accompanied by the slow triplets in the music, provides one last peek into the past. 

The silence of this ending, interrupted by the loud cheering — the roar — of the entire arena right after the last note is gone, provides a striking counterpart to the emotional skate of the Moonlight Sonata at the Four Continents Championship in Anaheim, which saw the eloquent silence of Shoma’s skate interrupted in a similarly dramatic fashion with the skater’s collapse at the end of it. A collapse that metaphorically prefigured the end of a chapter: the split with the Nagoya skating club, the coming of age, and the beginning of new relationships and a new ascent.

This ascent is now complete. At the end of Shoma’s skate at the NHK Trophy-2023, there was no collapse. A new chapter may end soon, but this one promises a happy ending.