Tag: Christopher Atamian

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WHO'S ZOOMING WHOM?: ZVIDANCE AT DANCE THEATER WORKSHOP

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian, SLSG Experimental Dance Critic

I recently caught ZviDance’s charming if somewhat superficial “Zoom” at DTW.  I was particularly interested in seeing this performance as I had written a very positive preview of the company and its DTW run in the Jewish Daily Forward (www.forward.com/authors/christopher-atamian/). Israeli choreographer Zvi Gotheiner has been a presence on the New York scene for over twenty years now and he continues to develop interesting, intellectually engaging performances.

Overall, I wasn’t disappointed though I can’t say that the choreography presented anything revolutionary or distinctive.  It was all fun and jazzy and engaging—a light, perfectly enjoyable night of dance.  My colleague Gia Kourlas at The New York Times compared some of the dancing to the old PBS children’s series of the same title “Zoom” (remember they spoke ubbaduhbah language and wore fabulous striped tops à la Agnès B?)…Kourlas may have been slightly unfair in juxtaposing the two, but I see her point—through much of the performance, you felt as if you were  watching sketches for a deeper, more mature presentation.

As a meditation on technological change, the internet and cell phones, “Zoom” hints at many interesting directions: how does technology mediate the human touch and body?  What happens to our notions of intimacy and the way we perceive time in an age of supposedly instantaneous connectivity?

After a few introductory group pieces and solos, one of the Zvi dancers sat on stage with a laptop and communicated with the audience, whose members sent in text messages from their blackberries etc…The messages appeared on a large white screen on stage. Predictably—and unfortunately—they alternated between humor (“Do the kicky thing again” or “Can you do the worm?”), to sexual encomia (“You are hot!”) and repeated fart references by one audience member.  The performance then lost me a bit when audience members were invited on stage, LOL, OMG I just couldn’t follow.

Tal Yarden’s videos, which were also projected onscreen, were lovely eerie transformations of low-resolution images, also e-mailed by audience members.  The most affecting part of “Zoom” came at the very end of the performance—the dancers had already moved off stage and a series of new messages appeared onscreen: “Guess I missed you…” “Talk to you soon.” The real message, and one that I think warrants further investigation, is perhaps the growing alienation that technology has foisted on society.  Information isn’t synonymous with knowledge and it certainly doesn’t always translate into wisdom.  Perhaps in a future incarnation of “Zoom,” Gotheiner will give the latter some more thought.

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GYOR NATIONAL BALLET FROM HUNGARY AT THE JOYCE

 

Photo by Bela Szabo, of Gyor National Ballet’s Rite of Spring, from here.

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian.

Györ National Ballet (at The Joyce January 26-31)

From the land of Bartók and Kodály, strudel and palascinka, comes Hungary’s Györ National Ballet, a vibrant dance company that everyone should have the pleasure of seeing at least once during their next New York appearance.  It takes considerable originality and artistic vision to re-interpret Petrushka and Rite of Spring with the verve and sometimes breathtaking visual appeal that Györ brought to the Joyce on January 26.  The company was founded in 1979 by two graduates of the National Ballet Institute.  Led by Janós Kiss since 1991, it has since won accolades worldwide: all twelve members that performed here are talented, vibrant and passionate dancers with evident balletic training behind them.

The presentation at the Joyce, titled “A Stravinsky Evening” was dedicated to the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Iron Curtain.  The original Petrushka ballet was of course choreographed by Mikhail Fokin but this version, credited to Dmitrij Simkin and James Sutherland presents a fresh look at the well-worn story.  Here Petrushka (Bálint Sebestyén) is transformed into a free thinker who resists communist indoctrination, while the sorcerer (Balázs Pátkai) is a party leader in uniform who tracks him down, interrogates and tortures him. Both Sebestyén and Pátkai dance their roles beautifully.  Pátkai is appropriately rigid and authoritarian (but sinuous and sinister as well) while Sebestyén is equally adept at performing different tempos and phrasings—at one point he dances torso nu to a particularly sensitive segment of Stravinsky’s music with rare, almost spellbinding sensuality, as if he were actually in a trance: his body quivers all over as he moves arms and legs into languorous serpentine positions. The other dancers are also attuned to soft almost ethereal body movements; as a whole they executed beautifully but their strength was surely the seemingly effortless synchronicity that they achieved with the Stravinsky score.  The piece ends as it begins with a fast-paced pop-inspired communist scout march—a lovely bookend to the Stravinsky. The dancers again perform as communist scouts, mainly running in place and repeating a few movements in synchronicity—illustrating with deft alacrity that complete oxymoron known as “happy totalitarianism.”

This Petrushka presents the type of work that European companies often still perform best: intelligent, classically-based work updated for contemporary audiences—based in literature or myth, the stories told seem fresh and relevant.  In the program notes, Simkin avers: “I present here, not dolls with human feelings…as in Fokin’s work, but humans who act like puppets in a society controlled by propaganda where misleading the masses and brainwashing controls the whole society.” Simkin and Sutherland introduce current themes and update ballet’s sometimes archaic fairy tale themes, while presenting innovative movement not slavishly hampered by traditional technique and point work.  The scenery and costumes, also by Dmitrij Simkin were arresting: a large shining red star hung over a stage; a large head of Lenin lay in the background. The piece sometimes lacked subtlety—Stravinsky is already domineering enough as it is without being hit over the head with an overt political message; and when the Lenin head was rolled around and literally knocked everyone to the ground, you sort of just sighed at the obviousness of it all. But that is small criticism surely when compared to its overall depth and beauty.

Attila Kun’s Rite of Spring was sheer delight.  Here the set changes to minimalist and ultra-modern: a white rectangle surrounded on the edges by a black border, all of it glinting like marble under the stage lights.  The eleven dancers of both sexes, all equally beautiful physically, wear only white—the men in long pants, bare-chested in cotton frocks, the women in culottes and asymmetrical tops that made them look as if they had just come down an Hervé Leger catwalk.  At one point the dancers sit down facing each other two-by-two to apply ceremonial paint, remaining stoic in light of what is about to take place. The clean lines and unencumbered choreography create the illusion that perhaps we are not about to witness something terrible.  And the lithe Lilla M. Horváth is simply astounding as “The Chosen One,” both as an actress and dancer, even as she futilely fights for her life and gasps her last breath. The other dancers—all assistants and too numerous here to mention—defy time and place, something almost Egyptian or ageless in their presentation as if they had walked off an episode of Stargate, noble in demeanor, sporting long limbs and almost extraterrestrial in bearing! As the piece comes to a close, the dancers have not only presented a pagan sacrifice, but also the idea of renewal and hope, much like modern Hungary emerged from communist rule, proud and independent.

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ANYTHING BUT PRIMA: LEE SAAR AT P.S. 122

 

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian

The actress Lee Scher and her partner-choreographer Saar Harari belong to a generation of Israeli choreographers who have all been influenced to a greater or lesser degree by the immensely talented Ohad Naharin and his “Gaga” dance technique.  While I quite like Batsheva and Naharin, many of the choreographers that have followed in his wake, including Inbal Pinto and Lee Saar, have left me indifferent at best.  In Prima, four performers Jye-Hwei Lin, Hsin-Yi Hsiang, Hyerin Lee, and Candice Schnurr-all quite graceful and talented-dance around the stage, gesticulate, crawl and otherwise shake legs, arms and booties for the better part of forty-five minutes to a mix by d.j. filastine, Latino club music, and a fado or Arabic-inspired Spanish fusion of wailing and techno.  Sometimes they also crawl around in complete silence.

The highlight of the piece comes every so often when one of the dancers yells out her name, introducing herself to a somewhat weary audience.  At times the rather stock movement seemed influenced by break, rave, krump and even pole dancing, and at others it looked simply like random movement. I will not attempt to deduce the theoretical hermeneutics that I imagine may underlie this rather hermetic, uninspired choreography-what it either signified or meant is beyond me; on an aesthetic level it was rather bland as well.  Part of a critic’s job of course is to evaluate how close a choreographer or artist on comes to achieving his or her (stated) goals-in this context Lee Saar’s Prima was, I suppose, more or less successful.  But if a performance falls flat both theoretically and aesthetically then what, one wonders, is the viewer meant to take away from it?

Seen on November 22nd.

Photo taken from Broadway World.

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AUF DEN TISCH / AT THE TABLE: MEG STUART’S CURATORIAL MAYHEM

 

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian

I caught Meg Stuart/Damaged Goods for the first time on November 8th at the Baryshnikov Arts Center. Auf Den Tisch is more a collaborative piece than Stuart’s choreography per se: a huge room is filled with tables lined up against each other with the audience sitting around it-critics, fellow artists, the general public and an occasional straggler or two judging from their reactions.  The performers: Trajal Harrell, Keith Hennessey, Janez Jansa, Jean-Paul Lespagnard, Jan Maertens, Yvonne Meier, Anja Müller, Vania Rovisco, Hahn Rowe, George Emilio Sanchez, Stuart and David Thomson are a diverse, talented lot. It would be impossible to describe the action, as these twelve artists performed just about every possible type of improvisation imaginable in a nod to Grand Union and other experimental groups from the past.  Jansa stood on a balcony looking out at the audience complaining in a Croatian accent that no one was risqué enough today to get naked in public as Richard Schechner did in the 60’s-then he proceeded to get naked and climb down among the hoi polloi: my older French colleague was unimpressed, noting with distaste that he had dirty feet. I thought he looked fine naked. The immer intellectual, immer thinking Harrell was alternately baffling as he read Rancière aloud (who could process the French philosopher at such break-neck speed?), fascinating as he fielded questions about forgiveness and charming as he zipped around the table in a bumble bee outfit.  By now, you must get an idea of what the performance was like…Parts of Auf den Tisch were also terribly slow.  Stuart officially “curated” this project-with a bit of nipping and tucking, it could have been much shorter and more enjoyable-not that pleasure was at the top of anyone’s agenda…Oh yes, as usual Yvonne Meier was her dry, hilarious self.

Photo taken from the Performa 2009 website.

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A FALL SMORGASBORD: CATHERINE GALLANT, EMIO GRECO, WILLIAM FORSYTHE, AND LUCINDA CHILDS

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian

In the past month I attended four very different performances that were all interesting for different reasons.  Readers will forgive me for giving brief overviews of each rather than the more in-depth analysis that they undoubtedly deserve, but lack of time and deadlines preclude me from doing them full justice!

 

On September 26, I had the pleasure of seeing Catherine Gallant/Dance present a series of rarely performed works at the Joyce Soho.  (Photo above of Gallant/Dance performing Isadora Duncan taken from Moving Arts Project.) These included works by Gallant herself, as well as José Limon, Isadora Duncan and Anna Sokolow.  Gallant’s company is rather unique because it is composed of dancers of all ages and body types—it was refreshing to see older women on stage (as in over 30!).  While they may not always have had the same power and lift as their younger counterparts, they displayed a welcome maturity, elegance and presence.  This was particularly true in the sublimely wistful 16 Waltzes Op. 39, choreographed in 1903, also referred to as “the many faces of love.”  Set to Brahms waltzes and as performed by Loretta Thomas, Eleanor Bunker, Michelle Cohen, Francesca Todesco, Marie Carstens and Gallant, the piece lulled the viewer into an almost blissfully intoxicated state.  It was also refreshing to see Anna Sokolow’s 1953 Lyric Suite, set to music by Alan Berg performed by Francesca Todesco, Eleanor Bunker, Michelle Cohen and Chriselle Tidrick.  Another highlight of the evening was the athletic Kristen Foote, a member of Jose Limón, interpreting Isadora Duncan’s Revolutionary (ca 1920-1924), with music by Alexandre Scriabin.  Foote displayed remarkable strength, vitality and grace in this simple but powerful piece.  That she could capture with each step and arm thrust the spirit of the October Revolution and spirit us, the audience, away to a Russia so distant in time and place, is a tribute to this remarkable young performer.  While one or two of the other pieces presented were arguably a bit lackluster, my only regret was that a larger audience hadn’t attend the performance, for Gallant is a historian and choreographer, a dancer and archeologist of dance history who brings to the stage pieces that we might never otherwise see.  We owe her a small debt for her good work and taste.

 

Emio Greco (photo above by Jean Pierre Moran) came to the Joyce in late September to present the second in his Dantesque trilogy, popopera[purgatorio]. I’ve already written a review of the performance for Dance Magazine which should be out in a few months so I won’t go into any detail here.  While I understand the issues that some critics may have had with the performance, Greco’s intellectual take on dance, the offbeat look of the dancers themselves, as well as the original, spasmodic movement vocabulary were interesting enough to me, although it wasn’t necessarily the most memorable show of the year. All told, the dancers gave a sexy, brassy performance. They also wielded and played the electric guitar-one for each dancer–with some panache.

 

 

I was rather surprised by the generally enthusiastic reviews of William Forsythe’s cacophonous mess Decreation (photos above by Julieta Cervantes) at BAM (October 7-10).   I am a huge fan of BAM, of their New Wave Festival and of William Forsythe who is obviously one of our great choreographers-in fact some of the most exciting performances that I have seen in the past years have been choreographed by Forsythe, including an outstanding Juilliard Spring Repertory Concert performance some years back of Limb’s Theorem III which included a wonderful, young Riley Watts contorting his body in the most fantastic ways, an amazing rotating globe and choreography that made the dancers appear almost super-natural or alien in their physicality.  But try as hard as I could, I couldn’t find anything noteworthy about Decreation, which is based on an essay by Canadian writer Anne Carson that examines lives unraveled by love: Sappho, Simone Weil and Marguerite Porete, a medieval mystic who was burned at the stake for not renouncing the views that she expounded in her book The Mirror of Simple Souls.  Decreation begins with Dana Caspersen re-enacting a nasty spat with a past lover while George Reischl repeats her speech in German: they are both barely understandable and contort, grab at shirt, face and body in such visually unappealing ways that they look like two inmates in an insane asylum-perhaps an apt metaphor for something or other, but what is the relation to a failed relationship?  That it drives you mad? That’s it’s just exasperatingly distorting to the soul? And every time Reischl screams out “It’s a spiel” (so what’s new, love’s a game?) I wanted to reach out and well, slap him. At another point in the performance a women grabs her breasts with one hand and her crotch with the other, hanging on to her private parts as she is sandwiched between two male counterparts.  Decreation came off as a questionable mix of dance theatrical elements and surreal or post-modern theater-oh yes, and occasionally someone actually moved, as if to remind the audience that they were at a dance performance.  Certainly this work is complex, but in an abstruse and frankly ugly way: everyone on stage contorts in such odd and unappealing ways and David Morrow’s soundtrack is so grating that you aren’t quite sure how to enter the piece as a viewer. Forsythe received a standing ovation from a few people in the audience which proves, I suppose the old adage de gustibus non est disputandum. (Of the reviews that I have read so far only Tobi Tobias had the courage to call a spade a spade-so I will link to her review here, and to be fair, to Roslyn Sulcas’ altogether more positive New York Times review)

 

 

Finally, a redeeming, exquisite Lucinda Childs performance at the Joyce on October 6.  The highlight of the night was Childs’ Dance (photo above by Nathaniel Tilleston), which was accompanied by Sol Lewitt’s wonderful film projected onto a translucent screen, so that one could watch the dancers performing live with the original 1979 filmed performance simultaneously juxtaposed over them.  While this staging doesn’t work as well in a small theater like the Joyce, the dancers were simply exquisite as they performed relatively simple but quick steps (sideways jumps and turning jumps in arabesque) over and over again, mostly in straight lines, changing direction here or there, making absolutely exquisite patterns that have been likened elsewhere to Persian rug designs.  At first the execution seems almost identical, as do the dancers costumed in identical unisex black outfits, but each one actually added his or her own idiosyncratic head tilt or subtle interpretation. It’s not easy to choreograph to music as purposefully repetitious and as fast-paced as Phillip Glass but the dancers acquitted themselves famously, as if floating on a seemingly effortless ethereal cloud for close to an hour.  It was refreshing to see work of such distinction and quality: one felt transfixed as one should by great art.  (Childs, almost seventy, also danced a brief piece with less success, but how nice to see her up there anyway!)

{A random aside:  After another recent performance, I was discussing Ulysses Dove and his remarkable Red Demon with another dance critic (Dove passed away from AIDS in 1996) and about the past twenty years of choreography.  She gently reminded me that the generation that we lost to AIDS in the 80s and 90’s has left a large hole in our choreographic heritage-between older choreographers and the debatable quality of much of what we now see in contemporary dance.  I will go one step forward and say that while I am all for free expression and believe that anyone who wants to should try his or her hand at choreography, that we have way too many people of middling talent presenting dances today-which is neither good for dance nor for its reputation with the general public.]

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ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE ON PIERRE RIGAL’S "PRESS"

By my friend, Christopher Atamian, who went to the Friday night performance.

Pierre Rigal’s Press

September 10-13 at the Baryshnikov Arts Center

Pierre Rigal’s “Press,” originally a 2008 commission from the Gate Theater in London should come with a warning for the claustrophobic or anyone who finds watching another human slowly get crushed à la Star Wars trash compactor scene unsettling. Pierre Rigal, a French mathematician turned hurdler turned dancer performs this solo piece with remarkable aplomb.  For the better part of fifty minutes Rigal contorts, girates, sits, stands and otherwise dances (yes he “wri-gals” as well) inside a box that slowly compresses and threatens to flatten him like a pancake… His only sets are a chair and a slinky rotating lamp creepily reminiscent of Hal in 2001: A Space Odyssey. “Press” isn’t for everyone: watching Rigal stand on his head and negotiate the walls as the ceiling slowly close in on him is either frightening or frighteningly boring, depending on your point-of-view.

The box, Rigal explains in a previous interview, is a symbol for the danger man faces today in society and also for the solutions to these problems as well.  “The box” Rigal notes like a good Frenchman is eminently “cartesian.” These quasi-philosophical statements do Rigal’s cause little good-he should let the performance speak for itself.  It isn’t every performer after all who can carry off a solo like this with such brio.  Although it begins rather tediously, “Press” increasingly captivates as it heads towards its terrible, unavoidable (funny?) end.  Somewhere about forty minutes out, once Rigal has already swallowed the lamp’s red light bulb and caressed the light’s frame like a pet or perhaps even a lover, a voiced narration joins Nihil Bordures’ clever eerie score (“Inside my head…inside my head…”) implying as I read it that perhaps everything we are witnessing is taking place within his head. This to me is the wonderful if obvious stroke of genius, the redeeming touch that takes an otherwise repetitive performance and lifts it to something unique, powerful and worth watching.

 

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A SHORT NOTE ON ARTISTIC DIRECTORS AND PROGRAM SELECTIONS

 

 

In light of the recent downpour of Tulsa Ballet reviews, many of which critized the selection of dances artistic director Marcello Angelini chose to bring to NY, my friend Christopher Atamian writes a note on programming selection. Chris also talks about Pilobolus, who were recently at the Joyce and big shame on me for missing them (I was recovering from an insanely exciting ballet season — the best EVER in my NY lifetime– and hystericizing over putting the finishing touches on my novel, so please forgive me for failing to cover this most exciting troupe).

I think Chris makes good points about not only the selection of programs but the placement of dances within the programs. I think this is one thing that Judith Jamison of Alvin Ailey is genius at: that company always performs their choreographically richest, most upbeat piece at the end: either Ailey masterpiece Revelations, the versatile hip hop / modern / African combo Love Stories, or Tharp’s wild-ride, The Golden Section. And interestingly, now that I think about it, New York City Ballet usually puts their premieres in the middle of the program, ending with a Balanchine. I definitely think you’d want to put the less established pieces in the middle, and bookend them with the tried and true. I do wonder if we “cranky New Yorkers” in Apollinaire Scherr’s words would have received Tulsa’s program better had Hue’s piece been in the middle or the beginning and the Duato at the end.

Anyway, here is Chris Atamian:

It is presumably the role of the artistic director to choose the particular program or set of dances that a company will perform on any given night.  I don’t know if anyone else has noticed a rather curious phenomenon, but I have attended a few performances of late by some truly fine companies that would have benefited enormously from a more judicious dance selection.  There was of course the Tulsa Ballet’s amazing 1-2 MacMillan-Duato punch at the Joyce which was unfortunately followed by a much weaker This Is Your Life by Young Soon Hue.  Why not start with the Hue piece-if one must include it-and then work up to the Macmillan and Duato? The audience would then walk away with an even stronger impression of this wonderful company.

The week before, I attended all three Pilobolus programs, also at the Joyce.  Program One began with a fine martial arts/capoeira-inspired piece Redline choreographed by Jonathan Wolken.  This was followed by a stunning piece Darkness and Light developed in collaboration with the truly astounding puppeteer Basil Twist involving shadow play and a presentation of nothing less than the cosmos itself, whirring by at breakneck speed in front of a mesmerized audience.  Then after a short break, the company came back with the 1971 work Walklyndon, a cute, short piece which involves the company dancers walking back and forth across the stage and engaging in some wonderfully humorous gags and movement with elements of clowning, physical humor and even a touch of vaudeville perhaps. The members wear hilarious, lively costumes.

I compared the piece elsewhere to a jived up version of Romper Room and I meant that in the best way: it’s humorous and soulful and it gives the audience a good idea of the company’s history and evolution-how else will younger people ever see the early pieces of a company which has now thrived for close to forty years?  My beef is that it came as a complete anticlimax after the Basil Twist piece-you could literally feel the audience deflate: they were waiting for something stellar, fast-paced and acrobatic and instead were presented with a funny and somewhat tame amuse-gueule. (Of course a company that specializes in say baroque dance or a classical ballet company may have an easier time of things programming an evening of performances simply because they have a theoretically more restrained group of works to choose from than a contemporary company…) There are of course many ways to curate a night of performances: by similarity or contrast; by choreographer; by time or setting; by pace or style; etc) No one way is correct per se, one just wishes that the choices were sometimes more judicious or logical.  As with everything in a very difficult field, that is easier said than done and there is always something to be said for experimentation.  And of course this is just one critic’s opinion….others are free to disagree with me!

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THE TULSA BALLET AT THE JOYCE: DANCES FROM THE (HEART)LAND

 

Here is another take on Tulsa, written by my friend, the writer and critic, Christopher Atamian:

The Tulsa Ballet is a wonderful revelation, a group of exquisitely trained dancers with the ability to perform a wide variety of dances from different lexicons.  Indeed, it would be hard to pick two pieces more dissimilar than Kenneth MacMillan’s 1974 Elite Syncopations and Nacho Duato’s 1996 Por Vos Muero.

Macmillan’s fun and lively ballet was performed with evident brio by the Tulsa dancers. If you could survive going blind from Ian’s Spurling’s remarkably bright costumes (think Pucci meets the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test) and overlook the fact that the stage sometimes looked too busy with too many dancers, then you were in for a real treat. The dancers performed the often eccentric arm movements and angled lifts, as well as the elements of mimicry and farce to perfection: the final group ensemble piece was bold and fast-paced. The “Bethena Waltz” pas-de-deux between Alfonso Martín and Karina Gonzalez  was particularly enjoyable as were sections with the lithe and elegant Kate Oderkirk. I don’t particularly like Joplin’s Ragtime, to which a large part of the ballet is set, so the fact that I enjoyed this piece was all the more to the Tulsa Ballet’s credit-there was something truly odd and exhilarating about the entire presentation.

Duato’s Por Vos Muero is sensuous and romantic whereas Elite Syncopations is more syncopated and humorous; the former is European in tone and musical selection while the latter is set to just about the most American music there is; MacMillan’s ballet is modern in atmosphere while Muero is medieval with elements of postmodern poetic recitation.  Again, the Tulsa dancers could have benefited from some more inspired costuming.  The women’s blue and brown dresses and bustles may have reflected historical Spanish fashion, but at times they also hindered our appreciation of the performers’ movement; the other contrasting semi-naked flesh-colored costumes seemed flimsy.  Por Vos Muero is set to exquisite 15th and 16th century Spanish music and illustrates a 16th century poem by Garcilosa de Vega, an extended love ode to an unnamed woman read here by the Spanish actor and pop star Miguel Bosé. The movement in Por Vos Muero mixes elements of Spanish court dance with a contemporary idiom developed by Duato which includes two-footed jumps, circular gestures of arms and legs, and the use of masks in one scene. When the male dancers come out in capes swinging incense censers, the entire theater becomes a dreamlike dominion, an oil painting come exquisitely to life. The dancers all acquitted themselves beautifully. Alfonso Martín, Karina Gonzalez and Ricardo Graziano were particularly stunning. The former two are powerful dancers that ally strength, grace and speed.

The last verses of Por Vos Muero are a stirring avowal of the heart:

 

I confess to owing all that I have to you

For you I was born, for you I am alive

For you I have to die, and for you I die.

By the time the two Tulsa dancers rush to the back of the stage and pose against a black background some of the audience members are also ready to symbolically die from pleasure, if not love.

As an endnote, along with a few other critics I was also disappointed by the final work, Korean choreographer Young Soon Hue’s This Is Your Life.  The piece begins with a staging of the 50’s TV show of the same name. After briefly being introduced to the show’s characters, the audience is treated to small vignettes illustrating their lives-the yearnings of their hearts and minds.  The actual dancing is quite good and some of the choreography engaging, but the piece feels disjointed and bland; at other times it looks like a strange mixture of Hairspray, Grease and West Side Story, without the excitement of any of the three. And yes, the orange-haired ridiculously effeminate hairdresser does border on the offensive. In fact many of the characters come off as stereotypes-the Chinese boy who wanted to be an actor but whose parents forced him to go into business; the girl with the Casanova boyfriend who must also be a bit short on self-respect, etc… More puzzling though, why the artistic director chose this particular piece to follow on the (literal!) heels of such fine works by MacMillan and Duato.  But no matter-the evening was fun, well-danced and enjoyable.  We hope to see the Tulsa Ballet again at the Joyce next summer.

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HEDWIG DANCES, AUDIENCE MEMBERS SIT BACK AND ENJOY

 

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Reviewed by Christopher Atamian

Jan Bartoszek’s Hedwig Dances arrived in New York this week via Chicago, where the company is based, and Havana, where four of the six dancers apparently hail from.  We’re happy they did.  Friday night at the Joyce Soho Hedwig presented three relatively short, lovely dances from three different choreographers: Bartoszek, Andrea Miller and Marianela Boan.  If you know nothing about contemporary dance, this trio-and the dancers performing them-provides a good sampler mixing styles and rhythms while demonstrating a deep seriousness of purpose, a hieratic, almost devotional aura and an evident passion for their work throughout.

In Bartoszek’s Night Blooming Jasmine, the six Hedwig dancers (Victor Alexander, Alitra Cartman, Justin Deschamps, Maray Gutierrez, Jessie Gutierrez and Michel Rodriguez) perform in summery cotton pants and shirts, moving around the stage with a lovely lightness of being reminiscent at times of Buddhist monks praying, at others of Christ-like crucifixions, as they recreate the movements and activities of the night (nb:the jasmine releases its scent after dusk…) One wouldn’t necessarily know that this is what the dance represents and it doesn’t matter: the movement vocabulary is original, varied and simply elegant.

Andrea Miller’s Dust, dedicated to her departed stepfather Jack, is ostensibly about mortality, loss and perhaps even trust.  Michel “Chino” Rodriguez and Deschamps run in a circle, push and pull off and onto each other, sometimes covering each others’ eyes as they bound forward, for the better part of eleven minutes. It’s an abstract piece, reminiscent of early modern improvisational work. Set to Arvo Pärt’s lovely and sad Fratres it hits just the right note. I have been watching Miller’s work since her student days at Juilliard and at her own company Gallim Dance, and this is perhaps my favorite piece of hers to date: simple, unpretentious, and level-in a word, mature.

Marianela Boan who choreographed the final piece, Stampede, with original score by Christian Cherry also works with improvisation, letting her dancers innovate as they go.  They negotiate space in and around yellow and black slashed crowd control ropes, moving them around the stage and changing their geometric configurations. The piece begins with Maray Gutierrez slipping in and out, under and over the ropes that are arranged in a boxing ring formation, until the robust and very macho Victor Alexander picks her up and literally sweeps her off her feet.  Some of the rope work is reminiscent of (rhythmic) gymnastics.  As the dancers negotiate each other, the ropes and imaginary crowd members, the dance becomes a metaphor for negotiating and overcoming life’s abstract obstacles as well. It’s a lovely piece and a lovely dance company.

Bartoszek held a Q & A after the Friday performance with her dancers. Both choreographer and performers displayed an infectious charm and good humor which counts for something, as well. We hope to see them at the Joyce again soon, next time in Chelsea…

Nota bene: Night Blooming Jasmine received its New York Premiere on Friday, Stampede and Dust their World Premieres. Victor Alexander technically hails from Pinar del Rio, not La Havana.  Marianela Boan is also Cubana!

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THE POPULARITY OF KEIGWIN + COMPANY

 

 

 

 

During ballet season my time is so limited and I just can’t attend everything I want to. And so, regrettably, I had to miss Keigwin + Company at the Joyce last week. But my friend, writer Christopher Atamian, agreed to attend for me and write a review here. I’m a big fan of Larry Keigwin, but unfortunately my friend didn’t like the performance very much! Oh well, such is life… Anyway, I’m very thankful and flattered that professional writers want to write for my blog. I do want to make clear, though, the views expressed herein are Mr. Atamian’s and not my own. I’ve seen all of the pieces reviewed here except Triptych, which is new, and I’ve really liked all of them. I also think diversity of opinion and the dialog it can engender is very important to the arts. Here is Mr. Atamian’s review.

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GUEST BLOGGER CHRIS ATAMIAN REVIEWS GROUNDWORKS

My first guest blogger!

Christopher Atamian, who I met recently while watching Complexions at the Joyce, is a very accomplished arts writer. He writes regularly for Dance Magazine, and for the Daily Candy-esque (but far better!) arts e-letter eCognoscente (which he co-founded). He’s also the former dance critic for the New York Press and has written for the New York Times, among other leading publications. Chris has been kind enough to write a full review of the GroundWorks performance I posted about very briefly.

(I don’t know what kind of “dance publication” this is, by the way. Can’t figure it out.) Anyway, here’s the review:

Contemporary Dance Theater…Created from the Ground Up…in Cleveland, no less…Who knew? (Or: The Little Dance Company That Could)

Or if this were a “mainstream dance publication”: GroundWorks DanceTheater brought its unique mixture of subtle humor, intelligent choreography, and vigorous movement to the West End Theater, March 5-9, 2009.

By Christopher Atamian

Less is sometimes more, indeed. In the wonderfully intimate and strangely proportioned West End Theater (i.e. thirty-foot domed ceilings and decorative arches overlooking a mere 84 seats and a semi-circular dance floor the size of my back pocket), the Cleveland-based company presented a charming and sometimes clever New York début—think classically-influenced movement set to contemporary and new music. It’s hard to judge five dancers on a shoestring budget making what was by all accounts remarkable use of their tiny dance area. The company members are obviously quite talented—one wonders what their performances would look like with more elaborate sets and costumes and a few more dancers? Could GroundWorks evolve into a more important presence in the dance world?

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