SXSW film revives 'The Trash Project'

AUSTIN (KXAN) - Dance choreographer Allison Orr had an appointment. Somehow, she had talked the bosses at the city of Austin’s Sanitation Department into letting her explore an unusual dance project, starring the department’s employees.

She was understandably nervous. At the coming meeting with dozens of sanitation workers, her whiteness would stand out in a sea of mostly black and brown faces. Beyond that, she wondered how in the world she would manage to convince them the time had come to dance.

That’s when she got the call. It came from filmmaker Andrew Garrison.

“I was in a meeting with this organization and I was talking to a guy named Blake Trabulsi,” Garrison recalled.

“And he said, ‘What are you doing next, Andy?' And I said, ‘Well, I’ve got this idea about following this dancer, Allison Orr, and I've got to get in touch with her.’ And he said, ‘That's my wife; I can put you in touch.'”

During Garrison’s call to Orr, he learned about her “ Trash Project ” dreams and he asked if he and his camera could come along when she faced the workers. It was in that way that choreographer, filmmaker and rolling camera arrived at department headquarters.

“I had no idea what she was going to be like,” said Garrison. “I didn't know what kind of a person she was; I didn't know how she would treat other people. I didn't know how they would receive her.”

It didn’t take long to find out.

“You don't have to commit to dancing right now,” Orr told the assembled collectors of trash, garbage, dead animals and street rubbish.

There was some nervous laughter and plenty of, “Not just no, but hell no!” looks in the crowd. But Orr persisted; for eight long months she persisted, riding along on routes that began at 2:30 a.m., manhandling furniture from the side of the road onto collection vehicles, even using a pitchfork to hoist a dead animal from a city curb.

Along the way, she talked, and more importantly, listened to the workers, learning their stories.

Meanwhile, Garrison, camera in hand, was doing the same thing, often accompanying Orr, but also riding along on routes without her. He visited workers’ homes, followed them to things like a skate dancing event at a local roller rink. He got to know their kids and like Orr, he earned their trust.

“I didn't know for weeks whether or not there was going to be a movie here,” Garrison said, “but over those weeks I began to see how she worked and how she worked with people. My respect for her just grew and grew.”

Gradually, the idea for the dance took shape and workers signed up. In between their shifts and their second jobs, they made time for rehearsals.

As showtime drew near, Orr, who specializes in these sorts of unusual dance performances, grew worried. That was nothing new; she always loses sleep as deadlines loom.

One day, she sat across the table from Don Anderson, a bear of a man who operates a truck equipped with a long arm designed to move barrels from one spot to another. Anderson spoke softly and sweetly.

“I know we're getting close to the end and you're starting to doubt yourself,” he reassured Orr, “but it's going to be okay. We're going to pull it out.”

“Yeah?” the choreographer wondered aloud.

“Yeah, you got good people with you,” Anderson replied. “We're here to help; we are here to help.”

It was a deeply tender moment and fortunately, Garrison’s camera caught it all.

“So much of it is luck,” he said. “So much of it is just being there at the right time when the right things happen “But then it's also years and years of honing your skills so that you can help make the luck happen: Showing up, having an idea of where to turn next, having an idea of what to do. But we got so lucky; we got so lucky over and over again.”

Finally, just before the “curtain” was to rise on an abandoned airport tarmac in East Austin, the sky, swollen with heavy dark clouds, let loose its grip and the rains came down hard.

The crowds kept coming though, 2,000 people before the gates were closed for safety reasons, leaving plenty of folks still outside.

Orr’s heart sat down hard in her throat as the music began. The water on the concrete glistened with reflections of the lights on the trucks and everything just went really, really well.

In the end, a standing ovation wrapped its loving arms around tearful dancers who bowed deeply in unison before their long, straight line collapsed upon itself and everyone joined in a group hug that would put World Series champions to shame.

“If it hadn't been so astounding, I don't think that the film would have the impact it has,” Garrison said. “It is an amazing performance. I was blown away. It was this unexpected, wonderful spectacle. It was emotional and it was just great.

“If it hadn't been all that, this would have been a difficult film to really work. It may have been a lesser film.”

It was all that and it is not a lesser film. It is called, " Trash Dance ," and its world premiere comes at the South by Southwest Film Festival at 1:30 p.m. Saturday