Repertory Dance Theatre: Voices

Watching Repertory Dance Theatre’s Voices, a show that reiterated the company’s theme this season of “Manifest Diversity,” was a distinct pleasure. Nearly every piece was preceded by a video featuring the choreographer, or re-stager of the original choreography, providing a glimpse into their intent and process, which I found to be particularly effective and illuminating for a non-modern trained dancer such as myself. This was something I especially appreciated throughout the evening: the thoughtful, unobtrusive way in which these videos blended and drew connections through the program, which then became as much a part of the program as the dances themselves. They were like delightful appetizers followed by a sumptuous main course. The program itself was a varied menu with distinctly different flavors, some emotionally gratifying, others intellectually appealing, and all of them aesthetically pleasing.

The first piece, “Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor,” was originally choreographed by Doris Humphrey in 1938 and was “inspired by the need for love, tolerance, and nobility in a world given more and more to the denial,” according to the program notes. In the introductory video that featured Nina Watt and Jennifer Scanlon, who re-staged the piece, the audience was reminded that “Passacaglia” was originally conceived while fascism was on the rise in Europe. The significance of that historical context in today’s world was not lost.

“Passacaglia” was a lyrical piece, glorious and effulgent in the dazzling confluence of Bach’s music and Humphrey’s choreography, and transported me to a different realm. Lauren Curley and Dan Higgins led movements that found their refrain in the ensemble silhouetted in a pyramidal configuration on boxes, some seated, others standing. There was a sense of conductor and choir, song and chorus, and the struggle of dynamic leadership, as each dancer seemed to be every other dancer, an individual yet uncompromisingly part of a whole. The blue-lit background and white costumes accentuated the arabesques and turns and further underscored the uplifting nature of the piece.

RDT in “Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor” by Doris Humphrey. Photo by Sharon Kain.

Second on the program was the world premiere of “Event,” an incisive and interrogatory piece, with a distinctly different tone, choreographed by Bebe Miller. It was a joy to watch and a joy to listen to. Miller, in the introductory video, first told us that she is not a “storyteller” and that she began by observing who the dancers were together and allowing “the serendipity of interaction” to come to the fore. I found it intriguing to listen to her choreographic process. Her piece centered around the idea of an event occurring in a room of 6 people, which then gradually evolved/devolved from event into narrative, focusing more on each observer’s interpretation, feelings, and sentiments, the recall of it, and the correspondent emotions.

“Event” featured a brilliant score by Mike Vargas that highlighted a penetrating text by Ain Gordon, crisply delivered in this context by Miller. The movement was dynamic and accurately reflected Miller’s intent. Real drama was conveyed by the eight extremely strong dancers in the telling, retelling, and diverse experiences of the “event,” until the “event” became the remembered experience and no one really cared or could recall what the original “event” was. What I really loved about the piece was that I totally got it. I often struggle to understand the intent behind some modern pieces, but not here. The dancers were that effective in their spatial configurations, their energetic movements, and their convincing facial expressions (Abhinaya, as we call it in Bharatanatyam). I sincerely hope that RDT continues to collaborate with Miller.

RDT in “I give myself” by Bryn Cohn. Photo by Sharon Kain.

The next piece, “I give myself,” was choreographed by Bryn Cohn and was also a world premiere. As highlighted in her video, Cohn’s choreographic process starts with aesthetic empathy and articulation. She observed, and thus is able to spotlight for the audience, the energetic traits and mutual connections between the eight company dancers. The score, which felt unbroken but was actually three distinct sections, was composed by Michael Wall.

“I give myself” began with dark undertones; there was a relentless feeling of dread in the sometimes convulsive movements and the music reinforced this sentiment. It did gradually evolve to become a more optimistic endeavour, with the sense that the dancers withheld nothing and “gave themselves,” surrendering their vulnerabilities to interactive movements and embodying a confidence and mutual trust. The stark lighting, by Pilar, and dark costumes were effective as well, further emphasizing the sheer strength and technical prowess of each dancer.

The next piece, “Voices,” was a lovingly crafted tribute to Salt Lake City’s community of dancers, teachers, and mentors, choreographed by Nicholas Cendese with input from the performers, who were dance educators from across the Wasatch Front. The piece had a gentle, lilting feel to it, and the plethora of “voices” that informed it shone through without being discordant. It was moving to see and appreciate the generous contributions of local dance educators; our community, I have come to recognize, has one of the richest, most supportive dance cultures in the country.

Israeli choreographer Danielle Agami’s “Theatre” was the last piece on the program and was “dedicated to non-actors,” according to the program notes. Incredibly athletic in scope, the piece had the dancers fittingly attired in costumes with numbers on the back, as though they were members of a sports team. There were moments where the dancers would build up enormous momentum, bump into an invisible barrier, stop, and then recede with such control and finesse; at other moments, they seemed to engage in common exercises that one might see a team do before a match, except magnified and transformed with an inexplicable panache.

Tyler Orcutt in Danielle Agami’s “Theatre.” Photo by Sharon Kain.

The extremes to which Agami pushed the dancers of RDT, getting them to explore their limits or perhaps realize that they have none, was a powerful display of mutual enjoyment and a feat of singular stamina. Agami informed us in her video that she is interested in seeing how dancers convince her that they are engaged in her fantasy, and then uses that as a medium in creating her work. One could see RDT’s exceptional and diverse dancers rise to this challenge, and with support and encouragement, exult in exceeding any confines to create a fitting finale to the evening.

RDT is currently comprised of Jaclyn Brown, Lauren Curley, Daniel Do, Efren Corado Garcia, Dan Higgins, Elle Johansen, Tyler Orcutt, and Ursula Perry, an excellent ensemble who had us at the edge of our seats. I learned, speaking to a friend, that this was Efren Corado Garcia’s final season with the company. His note in the program thanking local employers for their flexibility in accommodating dancers’ schedules caught my eye and brought a lump to my throat: "All of you dealt with my tired body, long working days… your patience, commitment to me… helped me live a dream."

“Voices” was a banquet to be relished, and I left the theater satiated and eager for another program by Repertory Dance Theatre.

Srilatha Singh is a Bharatanatyam artiste and the director of Chitrakaavya Dance. While interested in encouraging excellence in her art form, she is also keenly compelled to explore relevance and agency through the artistic medium.

RDT presents Danielle Agami

Internationally acclaimed artist Danielle Agami is a considerate host.

Agami is also the founder and artistic/executive director of Los Angeles-based dance company Ate9, in addition to being a renowned choreographer, a Batsheva Dance Company alumnus, a Gaga movement research instructor, and a masterful, incredibly expressive dancer. Each of these many roles informed Agami’s powerfully realized and embodied solo, Framed, presented by Repertory Dance Theatre in the intimate black box theater at the Rose Wagner.

Agami is in town to restage Theatre for RDT, a piece first set on the company in 2016. She is known primarily for creating innovative works and collaborations that utilize the specific strengths of the dancers of Ate9; having her in Salt Lake as the repetiteur of her own choreography and the presenter of a career-first solo is a privileged look into the wider scope of her artistry.

First a hand and an arm, then a foot. Slowly, all of Danielle Agami emerged from the stage-left drapes in silence. She moved laterally across the floor, her image hazily reflected there by the effective low lighting designed by Pilar Davis. As the silence continued, the top light was brought up to reveal the shadows of Agami’s gestures on the white floor, over which she crouched and shifted. Her movement was grounded even in its moments of frenetic repetition, such that it never sacrificed clarity for lack of control. A fluid, graceful counterpart revealed her maturity as a dancer, as she reached absolute full extension before returning purposefully inward, her limbs turning in and out completely. An introduction, performed in silence, felt like a private, vulnerable moment we were allowed to access through chance and good grace. Then the music began, with the strings coming in and Agami walking out.

Upon her re-entrance the audience was fixed with the intensity of Agami’s direct gaze for the first time, perhaps realizing how much emotion had been conveyed before without it. She walked briskly down the diagonal, bearing a tray of popcorn and snacks which she proceeded to distribute among us. The host had emerged; we were meant to, and were made to, feel the dynamic shift of being explicitly and literally catered to, along with the complex of gratitude and discomfort that the reception of such performative accommodation may entail. Agami rode out the momentum of the gesture to great comedic effect, immediately escalating its scale with a precarious stack of gift boxes and a mini fridge. She chose not to be subtle in treating the relationship between artistic and material consumption. But malice and resentment were notably absent, as though Agami is personally compelled to be generous - almost as though what we do with her gifts is our own affair. Her last offering was a camera handed to a patron seated front and center, for whom she struck a provocative pose of dramatic curves.

The camera’s flash initiated another tonal shift. Agami established a series of too-familiar “dance” poses, freezing them for the static photographic medium. She then moved through the poses again, frantically articulating and re-articulating the assuming of each before moving on to the next, taking an iterative approach within the sequential progression. Rather than the more familiar repetition of themes varied across movements, Agami’s Gaga-informed repetition was immediate, exhausting one thought to depletion before moving on to the next. Cohesion was not achieved simply by revisiting motifs but rather through creating fully motivated, fully realized ideas. The forty-minute work was a series of these complete vignettes with thoughtful transitions that constructed a singular emotional landscape.

Danielle Agami began to speak directly to us, and the introduction of her voice heightened the experience as much as her gaze had previously. She spoke of dissatisfactions with her body, with aspects of her history and lived experience. Truthfully, had my viewing companion and I not been weeping more or less consistently since the silent exposition, we would have begun to during this brief and uncontrived address. It was pointedly framed as a decision to make disclosures, with the corollary “I wanted you to know that I know…” in the interactive orchestration of give-and-take. Agami had in fact snatched back several of her props from the audience, a gift box and a can of cola or two, but would proceed to draw many more objects forth. These included a stuffed cat, a punching bag and boxing gloves, club clothes and headphones, a cheese knife, and a cocktail shaker and chocolate syrup. All of these were utilized effectively, but none more so than the “prop” partner planted in the risers, Ate9 company manager Jordan Klitzke. Agami drew him down the stairs from the top row and began to duet with his inert form. It became a partnered piece that somehow encapsulated every rewarding and disappointing aspect of interpersonal action, including violence and intimacy, as well as tension and release, to a degree I had never seen before. In the Q & A following the showing, Agami stated that the two were careful never to over-rehearse the duet, which no doubt contributed to its force.

RDT company member Ursula Perry also lent her voice to the performance, several times selecting fellow audience members to suggest to Agami as potential romantic prospects, enumerating their fabricated or cheekily veridical names and attributes. This was the rare recapitulation of a motif in the piece, and it served as an effective transition between ideas. At each suggestion, Agami would demur with a gesture. Finally, she firmly stated an imperative, “Stop; enough.” This was a definitive end to the bit, and it signalled a return to silence. The piece came to an end with a series of interspersed gestural invitations to leave, which some of the audience haltingly obliged, even as the work continued. The movement became more akin to personal research as the invitations became less obliging. Agami came to rest supine on the floor, before exiting with a nod of acknowledgement. The Q & A that followed was much like the piece itself: uncompromising honesty in the insights that Agami shared, with the sense that no choice in what was disclosed or withheld was made lightly or unconsidered. It was the last in a series of generous acts.

Nora Price is a Milwaukee native living and working in Salt Lake City. She can be seen performing with Durian Durian, an art band that combines post-punk music and contemporary dance.