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San Francisco & Bay Area Roundup Fall 2012 by Heather Desaulniers
Thomasin Gülgeç’s opening solo was really quite something. The combination of light (designed by Michael Hulls) and Maliphant’s movement created such a strong and unusual visual effect, to the point where the light itself became an active performer. Lit from an overhead spotlight, the choreography was centrifugal - twisting, turning, spiraling, unwinding - so much so that it looked like Gülgeç was positioned on a rotating disc. Nijinsky-inspired arms were prevalent in the twenty-minute variation, reflected by his signature 5th position and moments where the arms wrapped around the head. Gülgeç captured fluidity and gracefulness throughout his whole solo whether walking, spinning or changing levels from standing to floorwork (which happened quite often). He was absolutely exquisite in this role. His back and spine are super flexible, perfectly matched with Maliphant’s choreography, though because of his upper body’s flexibility, his ribs were constantly popped to the point of hyper-extension. This occasionally took away from an otherwise brilliant performance. The two women in the cast (Silvina Cortés and Gemma Nixon) were introduced in the next section with a unison duet (which eventually morphed into a group sequence with all three performers, followed by a set of pas de deuxs). This portion of “AfterLight” was performed behind a scrim with a scattered light pattern, giving a dream-like ambiance. The choreography carried the same hypnotizing fluidity as was evident in Gülgeç’s solo, though the women had a slightly more difficult time maintaining the smooth, legato quality. While most of the dance stayed at a uniform dynamic level, we did see a bit of change during this lengthy middle segment. Cortés and Nixon broke into a set of frenetic chaîné turns, built a crescendo with punctuated, staccato motions and also executed some long leg extensions. “AfterLight’s” last scene took us back to the beginning of the work, as Gülgeç once again commanded the space. Delicate flute music accompanied Maliphant’s choreography as the soloist moved in and out of the shadows. In the final moments, Gülgeç took his place center stage, this time bathed in a strobe light effect and as the curtain fell, everything dissolved and disappeared together – the light, the mood and the dance.
A traditional lecture-demonstration filled the first twenty minutes. Way verbally shared her initial ideas for the work, and the dancers showed how those ideas manifested into physical images, textural characteristics and movement vocabulary. We saw how the choreographic phrases were developed and built and how at times, the final results ended up as Way stated, “having nothing to do with the source”. The most interesting take-away from this lecture-demonstration segment was how Way and the dancers really embrace the concept of letting go: releasing control of the piece, allowing it to take its own shape and conceive its own life. Then came a full run-through of “Life Saving Maneuvers”, a 35-40 minute composition set to premiere in March 2013. This was not a snippet nor an excerpt of the material; not an appetizer nor an amuse-bouche. Instead, we were watching a live experiment with a new recipe. For the critic, these ‘previews’ or ‘works-in-progress’ are an invaluable device; a moment to simply experience the dance, without the pressure to jump right into analysis or get lost in the choreographic minutia. Having said that, some observations obviously came to mind while watching the piece. “Life Saving Maneuvers” had an strong, constant narrative of support, illustrated at so many different junctures: the men moving in unison, attached to each other in a train formation; the opening circuit where the women were hoisted on the men’s backs; the desperate, frightening, risky, and shocking ‘run, jump, fall and catch’ segment. It was exciting to see ideas and movements from the lecture-demo present in the work and I also really enjoyed seeing new blood in the company, especially amongst the women. I hope ODC/Dance continues to add this intoxicating, new energy to its roster. My final thought as the lights dimmed was that I want to savor this artistic and choreographic recipe again, whether it has exactly the same ingredients or an infusion of new flavors.
The program opened with a short pas de deux - “Falling After Too” (2003), choreography by Benjamin Levy and Darrin Michael Wright; piano composition and live accompaniment by Anthony Porter. Porter’s score for this work was very reminiscent of Debussy, which immediately brought to mind the nature of Impressionistic music. Debussy and his peers came on the scene as the Romantic era came to a close and the 20th Century composers were on the rise. In this short, ambiguous period, conventions and characteristics were porous, flexible and changing. Levy and Wright’s duet spoke to a similar fluidity. Were the dancers moving on their own or being manipulated by each other; were they making individual decisions or reacting to each other’s choices; was it a combination of all of these possibilities? “Falling After Too” was wonderfully and deliciously unclear. I like dance theater just fine. It might not be my favorite genre, but when it is done well - à la Bausch, Goode and Forsythe - I completely appreciate it. Sidra Bell’s “less” (for LEVYdance) and “Nudity” (for her own company) were just not good dance theater. “less” featured a contorted, grotesque, tribal, animalistic movement vocabulary accompanied by a soundscape of amplified noise. Sequences of crawling and stalking were interspersed with command/obey segments in which one dancer yelled instructions at the others. Absurdity is a common theatrical tool in dance theater, yet, in good dance theater, the absurdity has a place, a reason and an intention. Here, we were witnessing absurdity for its own sake, which comes across as nothing but self-indulgent. The huge false eyelashes, futuristic make-up and blaring floorlights made “less” feel like an assault on the senses. One saving grace was that the movement style was certainly different for the LEVYdance performers and it is always good to see a company venture outside their comfort zone. Following intermission, the dancers of Sidra Bell Dance New York took the stage in “Nudity”. The beginning of the piece felt like ‘more of the same’, except that this time the performers were costumed in black rather than the white from “less”. However, the dance did change and evolve differently. Though the physical language had similarities, snippets of ballet were infused throughout (changement, allongé, balloné, attitude turns, developpé à la second and 5th position of the feet). The ballet was a welcome addition, though Bell’s point (no pun intended) was that ballet is stifling; ballet is bad. This message was received loud and clear in the first three minutes so I’m not sure why the piece was so long. The most shocking part of “Nudity” were the two instances where the dancers ventured into the audience, whispering in people’s ears, clutching their faces, and touching their shoulders. Right now, notions of discomfort coupled with a desire to breakdown the boundaries between performer and viewer are super trendy in modern dance. But you can still examine these issues without having your dancers actually touch people. I witnessed audience members recoiling and getting angry due to the invasion of their personal space. To be fair, I must also admit that from the resounding chorus of bravos as the lights dimmed, at least half of the audience clearly loved Bell’s work. “less” and “Nudity” were not for me, but they obviously spoke deeply to others. The last piece on “AMP’s” bill was Levy’s 2008 work, “Physics”. After close to an hour of the bizarre, I was overjoyed to see his choreography reclaim the stage. A quartet, this contemporary work explored points of contact, some familiar and conventional, others not: finger/chin, hand/clavicle, heel/lower back, arm/waist, palms, wrists. The piece questioned what is built from these initial physical meetings: what grows from them; what energy do they have; what affection may be present; what promises are contained; what possibilities exist and what resentment lies in wait. It was gorgeous.
As the piece began, we were introduced to the entire company (dancers Tanya Bello, Carolina Czechowska, Tegan Schwab and Nol Simonse) through short image vignettes, captured in different sized spotlights all over the stage. Organized as solos, duets, trios and quartets, these were like preparatory remarks; a physical manifestation of preliminary phrases, words and ideas. Following this gorgeous prelude, the cast moved onto its first main group sequence, journeying through an imaginary forest, complete with a scattered, shadowy light pattern and fluttery, fairy-like choreographic batterie. These opening moments set up the formal structure that would continue throughout the seventy-minute piece: short, individual scenes that examined and spoke to the same concept. Narratively, “Angles of Enchantment” was all about the path of discovery one makes using their imagination. About a third of the way through the dance, Simonse had a solo that was clearly about learning to let go and forgive. Later, the three women performed a divertissement that revealed a trio of wonderfully hopped-up, disco-style Swan Lake cygnets. Combining turned out pas de chats with flexed attitude relevés illustrated the importance of experimentation – taking perhaps one of the most famous ballet variations and flipping it one hundred and eighty degrees. Czechowska spent another entire section in a giant tree costume with a huge headpiece and Southern Belle-style hoop skirt. As she traveled slowly, calmly and quietly along a diagonal line, a comment on humanity was abundantly clear: we are more the same than we are different. Janice Garrett and Charles Moulton’s conceptual foundation of discovery through imagination was pure, relatable, universal and consistent. Garrett and Moulton have a rich history of successful choreographic collaboration so it would stand to reason that they would seek out equally brilliant design and music collaborators. Both Audrey Wright’s lighting design and Margaret Hatcher’s costumes were inspired. But, the music was really something else. Composer and performer Peter Whitehead was a one-man band, who literally had a treasure chest of instruments on his raised platform downstage right. Combining string, percussion and voice, Whitehead was not accompanying the dance performance. His role as the fifth performer was apparent in the entire work, but most pointedly in the two scenes where one of the women sat with him to learn how to play some of the instruments (again, a reference back to the narrative). Technically, Bello, Czechowska, Schwab and Simonse were very well matched. They are certainly different dancers (no cookie cutter corps here), but their performance experience and modern dance acumen was clearly on par with each other. My only technical quibble was with the turns. Each of them had a habit of ‘winding up’ prior to many of their turns, both in their torsos and with their arms. It almost gives away the turn when dancers do that. And from a choreographic standpoint, I loved almost the whole piece, except for the long tag at the end. About five minutes before the final blackout, there was a return to the short choreographic snippets in numerous pools of light. Because “Angles of Enchantment” began this way, it would have made more sense to end the piece there. The recapitulation of that first idea was much stronger than the extended coda. Read related stories in the press and see what others are saying -- visit the forum. |
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