OSBA presents Living Legends

Living Legends, a company that tours widely and is based out of Brigham Young University’s dance department, performed their current program, Seasons, for a one-night engagement presented by the Ogden Symphony Ballet Association. The show consisted of a series of Latin American, North American, and Polynesian ensemble song and dance pieces by performers of native descent. Per the show’s title, the pieces were grouped into seasons, each transition accompanied by narrative voiceover and projection. These were not the four solar seasons, however, but social phases which the program notes suggested to be universal to all nations: Promise, Plenty, Prosperity, War, and Rebirth. The title and structure nodded to changes that may be iterative and continuous, but also cyclical, underscoring the company’s dedication to representing tradition but also expressing vital, ongoing contemporary cultural identities.

The show began and ended with an element of theatricality. A young person shrouded in low-flow fog was beset by overbearing technologies and swelling electronic beats; they crouched before projections of familiar social media icons and drew their hoodie over their head. A dancer costumed as the eagle, of native North American origins, entered with and maintained a drifting triplet step reminiscent of flight, acting in the role of guide. Small groups in traditional costumes representing each of the three broad cultural sections filtered onstage and formed static tableaus recalling historical dioramas. They sequentially animated, guided by the narrative roles and song, and began to move, seemingly foreshadowing the series to come.

Until the final piece, there was no further pageantry external to the dances, and I did not miss it; the execution and energy was more than enough to captivate an audience. The first piece, a festive Bolivian Tinku, was among my favorites. It was danced to a musical recording of heavy drums and panpipes and featured steady marching and tight circling, the performers pitched forward in a half crouch while rhythmically throwing clenched fists, which alluded to the dance’s combat origins.

Another stand-out occurred later, in the “Season of Plenty.” This Samoan series featured live percussion, a welcome addition, and the playfully cocky interaction of a charismatic leader, or fa’aluma. After hyping up and drawing out the crowd, he was joined by other men for more sauntering and posturing, and then by a group of women, to form the large ensemble that he directed with shouted cues in performing the seated Sasa. A vernacular of iconic and everyday gestures became a unison sequence of impressive speed and infectious energy. The men resumed their satirical braggadocio to perform the Fa’ataupati, known also as the Samoan slap dance. The whole ensemble performed in startling unison, with the addition of coconut stalks in the Lapa Lapa, which were struck fast and loud against bodies and the floor to great effect.

Many of the dances similarly incorporated skilled manipulation of traditional material or costume elements with visual or musical impact, including feather and hand fans, the bells of the jingle dress, the expressively wide skirts of the Mexican folklorico dances, staves and bows in the “Season of War,” spinning poi of Maori origin, and the many hoops of the Hoop Dance.

The Hoop Dance closed the series of discrete cultural heritage dances and left a dramatic and lasting impression. Two dancers each artfully arranged twenty or more hoops on and around their bodies, both taking a unique and measured approach to achieving imagery in motion and striking static poses. The Hoop Dance was both showy and personally expressive.

A solo dance with many hoops originated in the 1930s and was performed in films and on the traveling show circuit, and was popularized by another touring show: the Lamanite Generation, formed at BYU in 1971 as a Native American performing group, and which became Living Legends. Also dating from that time was the closing song, “Go, My Son,” which espoused the values of family and education. As the closing bookend to the overwhelmed, hoodie-wearing youth’s arc, this number was a reminder that identity is always complex and never monolithic.

Faith in, as well as the institutional support of, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is an intrinsic part of Living Legends’ legacy and continuity, and although this was the least explicitly noted cultural heritage in the show, especially in terms of touring outside the cultural context of Utah, it is an inherently valid aspect of the group’s experience.

The show ended in earnest with a simple group song, bow, and ovation, following which the cast of performers headed out into the lobby alongside the audience. After giving such a committed, animated, and technical performance, the company was incredibly generous with their time and energy, engaging with patrons, especially the many kids in attendance, and offering a closer look at their incredible costumes. This level of ambassadorship from the cast in its entirety once again emphasized the company’s commitment to sharing and taking pride in tradition, and doing so as visible, present, and individual, but also interconnected, representatives of living and evolving cultural identities.

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.

OSBA presents Jessica Lang Dance

"Anything is possible once enough human beings realize that the whole of the human future is at stake." The words of Norman Cousins, American activist and peacemaker, echoed over and over in Jessica Lang's “us/we.” A farewell piece for her company Jessica Lang Dance (which is currently on its final tour following an eight-year run), “us/we” was the first on a diverse program presented by the Ogden Symphony Ballet Association at the Val. A Browning Center this weekend.

A delicious visual experience, “us/we” was a series of snapshots that zoomed in and out on Brooklyn, New York. The piece, created with visual artist Jose Parla, featured colorful projections that filled a screen upstage, framing the dancers and at times covering them with projected light. In a phone interview last week, Lang spoke with this writer about the "layering patchwork" of “us/we.” "It's all tied together," she said, which became clear throughout the driving work.

The set included three large pieces of fabric hanging upstage, each piece mapped for specific images. In the first section of “us/we,” the dancers wore costumes made from cloth used by Parla during his painting process, which was captured on camera and then integrated into the visual design. Still images of his completed works were also used. Costume designer Moriah Black constructed a second set of costumes by piecing together graphic-heavy items found at thrift stores from all over the world.

“us/we” spoke to a sense of unity by joining different people, places, and histories, and resonated through the dancers, who didn’t spend much time standing still as they moved between club scenes, busking scenes, and many literal tableaus, and incorporated gestural movement resembling American Sign Language. Notably, the piece coordinated large groups for impressive, multi-person partnering that had a flair for the dramatic, blending ballet and cinema.

The snapshots of “us/we” moved quickly, transitions almost nonexistent between a dance scene set to Ram Jam’s “Black Betty” and a moodier contemporary sequence. Quick changes of pace, glimpses into relationships, and hints at iconic moments recreated the feeling of riding public transportation: I remembered visiting New York for the first time, and the thrill of watching the city rush by on the subway as my face pressed against the window.

After speaking to Lang about “us/we” and then experiencing it, I see it as a love letter to the company: It is the last piece Lang will have made with the dancers, before all move on to the next stage of their respective careers. Near the end of the piece, the dancers appropriately sang “Can't Help Falling in Love.” With crescendos and brief moments of quietude, “us/we” was a lovely symphony of New York, and by extension, the world.

As a presenter, I would have opted to complete the concert with “us/we,” leaving the audience with a sense of connection and desire for more, instead of ending as the show did with “This Thing Called Love.” In contrast to the rest of the program, the fun, swingy Tony Bennett tribute paled in comparison in both content and complexity. The superimposed emotional content of “This Thing Called Love” was also amplified by its placement on the program following “Thousand Yard Stare” and “The Calling.”

Arguably Lang's most recognizable work, “The Calling” is a beautifully clear haiku of isolation and longing. Julie Fiorenza performed it with articulate grace and a length that defied that of her actual limbs.

“Thousand Yard Stare” always catches my breath. There is something about the way the dancers need each other that speaks to more than just the grit and grief of war. It also speaks to a cultural grappling with loss.

When the dancers moved through the exposed stage, the wings and scrim removed, they were in clear relationship to one another, coming in and out of unison, their contact characterized by dependence. They reached, fell, and collided, moving through space as if it was dense with fog and resistance.

Compositionally, “Thousand Yard Stare” was the most readable of Lang's work on the program. In it, she repeated and recreated scenes spatially as well as gesturally, making it easy to telecast personal or imagined relationships onto the dancers. There was a moving moment when a dancer was left out of the fold, powerful because the dancers were rarely alone throughout the piece. Their mass of overlapping bodies quickly pulled her back in, lifted her over their heads, and, surprisingly, tucked her in between them as if placing a baby bird back in its nest.

It is easy to imagine why “Thousand Yard Stare” is one of the company’s most performed pieces. Set to Beethoven's String Quartet No. 15, Op. 132, its music and movement swim together in hope despite the inevitability of death.

The dancers moved as a unit, offering the audience a sense of humanity and redemption. It would be easy to make a dance that captures the brutality of war, but for “Thousand Yard Stare,” Lang was interested in a different approach. ”We still have to carry hope," she says. She chose the music in part because Beethoven wrote the piece while he was dying, looking at the end of his life. Lang’s care and empathy are visible throughout it, and it’s a piece that does for me what I aspire to do for others through my own dance-making: It softens me, nudging me toward an understanding of the things I do not know.

I inquired about Lang’s plans for the future, now that Jessica Lang Dance is completing its final season, and why she is dissolving the company: She intends to keep creating work independently. Managing a company required her to spend less and less time working in the studio, and more time performing administrative tasks.

It’s clear that working with the same group of dancers for nine years has given Lang the freedom to push the boundaries of her aesthetic. I admire her choice to dissolve what many may think of as the pinnacle of success in order to continue pursuing the complexity of her craft. Now, she will take what she has gathered from Jessica Lang Dance and move forward, making new dances with new collaborators. “There are other things I want to try,” Lang says, and her decision reminds me that we can always change paths, make new choices, and dig deeper into that which inspires us.

Originally from the Midwest, Hannah Fischer is currently pursuing her MFA at the University of Utah. She received an Individual Artist Grant through the Indiana Arts Commission in 2017 and was an Associate Artist-in-Residence at the Atlantic Center for the Arts in 2014.

OSBA presents Stars of American Ballet

Stars of American Ballet, directed by New York City Ballet principal Daniel Ulbricht, gathers assemblages of performers (mostly NYCB colleagues) to tour extensively, “to one day see all parts of this country entertained, educated, lifted up and inspired by the art of ballet and great dancing.” The Ogden Symphony Ballet Associated presented the group, just returned from a tour to Cuba this past week, to a somewhat sparse but enthusiastic audience at Weber State University’s Val A. Browning Center.

It’s a treat to see some of the current big names in ballet here in Utah, as local presenters often bring in acclaimed modern dance companies, or even smaller contemporary ballet companies, but rarely full-swing classical ballet. NYCB soloists Unity Phelan and Indiana Woodward were performing, as well as mainstay principal Ask la Cour.

As expected, Balanchine was well-represented on the program, with a couple of unknowns sprinkled in (and, unavoidably, a gala circuit favorite, the Kitri/Basilio pas de deux from Don Quixote).

I was looking forward to seeing Ulbricht’s band of dancers, having read about past engagements of theirs at Jacob’s Pillow, at which they recently presented a program of Jerome Robbins ballets in celebration of the choreographer’s centennial.

While such a program is likely (and regrettably) not viable to Utah presenters, I hoped, going in, that the more conservative, almost introductory, program would still allow its cast to shine - as brightly as on their larger home stage in the D*v*d H. K*ch Theater (thank you to soon-to-be-retiring NY Times chief dance critic Alastair Macaulay for that clever editing).

Though not without its dazzling moments, the evening did not shine as brightly as anticipated.

Balanchine’s firecracker pas de deux Tarantella opened the show. NYCB soloist Erica Pereira was the embodiment of a Balanchine ballerina, exhibiting the necessary crisp footwork, sharp focus, and expansive port de bras, with extra energy emanating from her fingers. Pereira was at home in the sassy, more traditionally performative choreography, as well as in the Balanchinian quirks of the pas de deux, such as in a sequence of échappés and second position pliés on pointe in a forced arch.

Ulbricht spun like a top and flew with bravura in his jumping sequences, yet somehow lacked the luster to vie with Pereira's sunnier approach. His performance quality often appears subtle, or at least casual - that is, when he is not doing tricks - and this approach may be better suited to solo work. (Ulbricht has previously performed excellent solos at Ballet West’s Youth America Grand Prix galas.) In this performance, it felt like he was withholding the exuberance necessary to carry a dance such as Tarantella.

Phelan and la Cour were the standout couple of the evening, in the sparkling pas de deux from Balanchine’s Diamonds. With the appropriate regal air, their extensions and port de bras flowed liquidly between crystalline moments of stillness, la Cour’s supple, almost prowling, walks providing a panther-like connection between partnered pirouettes and promenades.

Phelan possesses the enchanting ability to conceal her flexibility, except when she settles effortlessly into a perfect penché or a soaring extension; thus, each comes as yet another delightful revelation. While also delightful in most moments in between, Phelan still appeared withholding - as though she and la Cour were aware of the diminished size, and perhaps experience, of this audience versus at home.

Being shown only the pas de deux from Diamonds left me hungering to see the corps de ballet enter in its grand mass - luckily, Ballet West is presenting the full trio of Jewels (reviewed on this blog here) at the Capitol Theatre through next weekend.

The world premiere of Rouge Lullaby featured Utah native and NYCB corps member Baily Jones alongside the pas de deux’s choreographer, fellow corps member Alec Knight. The two were unsurprisingly clad in red unitards, which, oddly, closely resembled those worn for Ulysses Dove’s Red Angels (were they actually those costumes, borrowed for this occasion?).

Rouge Lullaby contained all the quintessential ingredients of a modern ballet - overextended arms, hip thrusts, flexed hands, accompanied by strident tones (here, a score by Bartók). Jones was a clear and compelling performer, buoying Knight’s satisfyingly kinesthetic yet, at times, imitative choreography. A more complicated, exciting version of a fish dive was a fresh surprise, but the two didn’t seem to have a good escape plan, which took away from the lift’s initial effect.

A quick Google didn’t turn up anything further on Knight’s choreographic pursuits, but it seems a reasonable progression for either Ulbricht or NYCB, in the form of the company’s Choreographic Institute, to further incubate Knight’s confident voice, honing its distinction within the aesthetic tradition of the company.

(I did learn that Knight is the first Australian male dancer to receive a NYCB contract, that he has modeled for Dolce & Gabbana, and was featured on Teen Vogue’s 2014 video series, Strictly Ballet, the second season of which is available for viewing here.)

At this point in the program, intermission was still two dances away, and I wish those described thus far could have been lengthened and the next two omitted. The Don Q pas de deux began on a good note, Houston Ballet’s Connor Walsh and Allison Miller portraying Basilio and Kitri. Both displayed a clean, refined technique, more gathered than their City Ballet cohort, but Miller began to waver as the opening progressed into her variation and then into the coda.

It feels unnecessarily harsh to assess the pas de deux based solely on the success of balances and fouettés, but the success of the pas as a whole is dependent on these, coupled with the bravado of the performers, which also felt less than in this performance (though Walsh’s jumps were consistently and gratifyingly effortless and soaring). The inclusion of a mediocre Don Q lent to the program’s introductory feel, as any ballet-going audience has a high bar for such a familiar number (though presumably I was in the minority here, as that did not seem to be the audience makeup, or similarly the programming’s intent, for this performance).

Immediately preceding intermission was a brief, jazzy number choreographed and performed by Ulbricht, who was joined by musical theater performer Danielle Diniz (I learned later that the two are dating, and have another collaborative duet that is also in the Stars of American Ballet rotation). Set to Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing,” and employing tropes of swing dance and elements of Fosse, it was a number that could have worked as a crowd pleaser (not to say the crowd here didn’t enjoy it), but it fell a little short as just a duet, again with diverging energies, Diniz’s enthusiasm unmatched by Ulbricht’s nonchalance.

Yet, at the same time, Ulbricht seemed more at home in the movement (which, as it was his invention, is logical) - as though it were really Ulbricht’s world that Diniz, and before Diniz, Pereira, were temporarily inhabiting, with their more unbridled approach.

A 30-minute portion of Balanchine’s Who Cares? was the entire second act, and the continuity was a reprieve from the choppier first half. Five of the group’s NYCB dancers (Pereira, Ulbricht, Phelan, la Cour, and Indiana Woodward) romped through a selection of the ballet’s original twelve well-known Gershwin standards. There appeared a coalescence as the colleagues supported each other in a style, and in a ballet, that must feel like home to them. And finally, Ulbricht’s approach did not feel at odds with the others’.

Phelan and la Cour’s beginning pas de deux emphasized Phelan’s awareness of and engagement with her backspace, her supple port de bras always going beyond and behind herself yet remaining well within her command.

Woodward dashed off a breezy series of brisé volé, capturing her levity, but soon afterward, her pointe shoes looked oddly clunky as she appeared not to extend her feet in further jumping sequences. I later re-watched videos of Woodward to assure myself this was not usual for her, and indeed it is not. It was an unfortunate anomaly amidst an otherwise polished performance, as she toyed charmingly with the syncopation of Gershwin’s music, long ponytail streaming in her wake.

Ulbricht then had a solo in which I saw his strengths (and not tricks, in this case) finally realized: a playfulness that seemed to not reach its peak previously appeared here in full force. In this solo, it was clear that his build serves him in his pursuit of musical bending - he is able to draw movement in just as quickly as he can send it out.

La Cour then joined Ulbricht’s solo for a brief yet memorable duet. This was a surprising pairing, as the two could not be more different: la Cour is nearly 6’4”, according to Playbill.com, grew up in the Danish school, and, unusually for a NYCB dancer, is not trained at the School of American Ballet, having joined the NYCB corps straight from the Royal Danish Ballet (family connections are the likely explanation here, as Ask’s mother’s first husband was former ballet master in chief Peter Martins); Ulbricht, compact rather than rangy, did take the traditional route, going through SAB to join the company as an apprentice and rose up the ranks from there.

Despite these differences, Ulbricht and la Cour engaged in a sportive yet calmly casual duet that somehow spoke to both of their strengths simultaneously, and cohesively. This duet was the true embodiment of what I think the whole program aims to do on a larger scale - bring dancers of multiple backgrounds together to enjoy themselves and impart to others the joy found in ballet in all its numerous identities. Whether or not this was always successful may be irrelevant, as all these stars of American ballet made it to Ogden, Utah, to a cheering crowd nonetheless.

Amy Falls coordinates and edits loveDANCEmore’s online journal. She studied ballet at the North Carolina School of the Arts and has a BFA in modern dance from the University of Utah.

OSBA presents BalletX

The Ogden Symphony Ballet Association (OSBA) was founded with the mission to bring classical concerts from Salt Lake City up to Weber County, and now presents music and dance programming from nationally and internationally renowned touring companies to audiences in the greater Ogden area. BalletX is a Philadelphia-based contemporary ballet company that premieres many new works by prominent choreographers to their home audience, as well as taking programming on tour throughout their season. OSBA’s presentation of the company at Weber State University was comprised in the manner of most touring shows, a triple bill. A nearly full complement of nine company dancers performed in each piece (save all but one dancer in the first).

Vivir opened the night with an evocation of Spanish Harlem. Choreographer Darrell Grand Moultrie cites exposure to the beauty, power, and ubiquity of the Latin music of his birthplace in the program notes. Besides having worked broadly in ballet and contemporary dance, Moultrie has choreographed extensively in musical theater, from Broadway to Beyoncé’s world tour, whereby this love of music is clearly borne out. In Vivir, the musical selections occasionally overwhelmed the dancing as a focal point. Ballet generally is performed to a score, rather than a performing of the score, as in musical theater; this formed an emotive disconnect in the more lyrical solo, but served well in the instrumental sections and the accompanying duets and ensembles.

The introductory solos featured the lithe athleticism and startlingly sharp pointework that came to characterize the dancers’ performance quality throughout the evening, with heavy side light defining their muscularity. Solos transitioned to small groups, notably a fluid, self-contained male trio, which gave way, with a certain sense of inevitability and familiarity, to pas de deux. The partnering was both tricky and nuanced. The highlight of Vivir was a sultry pas de deux culminating in a lift, at which point another couple entered dancing to the quicker, brighter motifs in the transitioning music, while the lift slowly and languidly reached the ground. Including these differing musical interpretations in one duet was a masterful way to evoke social dance with beautiful, clear contrast.

The larger-scale contrast of the (rather too) dimly-lit solo danced by Richard Villaverde was less effective. The abrupt shift from de rigueur colorful mesh-paneled unitards and the infectious joy of Latin Jazz great Tito Puente and new-school classical guitar duo Rodrigo y Gabriela, to the black-clad bare chested defeated-man-on-center was a moment of drama that encumbered the following solo. The choreography was rather quiet and mellow, and perhaps under-articulated to match the continuing melodrama of the song’s overt plaintive lyricism. The following transition into dynamic duets of technical virtuosity in ever-flirtier iterations of costume, into the full ensemble featuring the overfamiliar single line of exuberant individual movements, never recaptured the nuance of the foregoing pairings. Although the progression of movements felt rather formulaic, the brighter sections were danced with unwavering alacrity and technical prowess.

BalletX co-founder and choreographer Matthew Neenan sought to create a “more purely musical” piece, as a reprieve from narrative/conceptual focus, to the strains of Schubert in Increasing. The loveliest motif emerged quickly and was reprised often in the form of two simultaneous duets, two blue-skirted women downstage right and two men upstage left in earthy neutrals. The duets were consistently fully motivated both in contact and musicality. These pairings achieved a level of abstraction that truly suited the stated intent: a non-narrative representation of the musical changes, themes, and subtleties. Each dueting couple was completely attentive from one partner to another, lending clarity to the full scope of the stage and tension to interwoven moments between the pairs. Subtly choreographed deviations by one dancer from unison phrases read as effective moments of pattern-break, and never as mistakes, which is a difficult feat.

Here at its best, Increasing reminded me of watching Disney’s Fantasia as a youth, seeing classical suites interpreted with abstract movement and forms. That is however a difficult conceit to sustain. As the piece progressed, again familiarly, from the duets into pas de deux and ensemble sections, the introduction of the “Allegro” section left little to be explored. Much of the choreography was novel and ambitious, and all was executed beautifully; the larger structure of movements compromised a sustained interest, not quite living up to the swelling intensity suggested by the title. As with the first piece, I was engaged for a full two-thirds of the performance and then found my attention wavering. In each case, I would wish for a less predictable progression of movements and more thoughtful utilization of the cast, perhaps not featuring the full ensemble, as well as a little stagecraft.

The final performance of the evening answered each of my forementioned desires of structural reform, and then some. German for “checkmate,” Schachmatt was in fact consistently winning. The curtain opened on a silent stage already in motion with a repeated unison flourish of many hands, discernible through the diffuse fog and theatrically prominent upstage row of floor lights. Toplight filtered down as the chanteuse of “J’attendrai,” a pop favorite of occupied France, began to sing. The dancers were uniformly dressed in matching monochrome grey shorts, button-ups, and ties, with the jaunty addition of a jockey-like black billed hat, perhaps best described as a ‘60s Mod scooter-fashion send-up. The unison gestures continued, allowing each frequently cheeky motion to be fully delivered through repetition before transitioning to the next. This basic theme was carried throughout and somehow never once became tiresome.

Through a series of seven vintage pop tunes, noir theme songs, mambos, and other inherently danceable selections, groups entered and exited deliberately through the wings. The dancehall was thus evoked but never actualized as vaudeville or chorus line. Cayetano Soto’s choreography adhered to his central vision with remarkable conviction. New brief phrases were serially introduced and developed with repetition and minimal, considered variation which allowed them to be truly seen. I have seen and appreciated this structural approach with more minimalist schools of subtle gesture, but rarely with motions this full-bodied, energetic, and vigorous. The dance vernacular included some very current street styles alongside older social dance and original contemporary movement. A great strength and cohesion was achieved with the choice of allowing these styles to coexist in the same world, undifferentiated in quality or treatment, creating an exuberantly articulated whole. Breakaway duets and groupings were re-integrated with the very classic approach of all parties repeating the current danced theme through the transitions - and it worked seamlessly. Schachmatt ranged from silly, to sexy, to strangely emotive, as in the final movement wherein the men faced the audience in a downstage line and were embraced from behind with gently enfolding hands as they executed a cyclic series of measured gestures. This piece alluded to historical and worldly referents while realizing a feeling and context all its own, never relenting in novelty, in the very best sense. It made me appreciate the virtuosity and versatility of the BalletX dancers and the company’s commitment to showing new contemporary works for many and varied audiences.

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

OSBA presents Parsons Dance

As an undergraduate student in 2008, I discovered Parsons Dance when I serendipitously checked out a DVD of the company, released in 2001, from a music and dance library. Upon watching it, I fell in love with David Parsons’ quirky choreographic style.

One of the pieces on the DVD, Reflections of Four, was performed by four women on a stage filled with water, each experiencing a different type of weather. There was also a humorous piece about the woes of mail delivery (The Envelope) and an idiosyncratic piece set in a restaurant-sized kitchen, dancers piling on top of one another as a set of eyes rose above a large vegetable cutting board (Fine Dining). Ten years later, I can still remember these works, as Parsons’ unique and strange presentations were unlike anything I had ever seen.

When I learned Parsons Dance would be performing at Brigham Young University the semester after watching them on DVD, I anticipated seeing witty, humorous, and viscerally sensitive work, but was underwhelmed by what was presented. The concert seemed more focused on presentational affectations and general accessibility rather than on the witty content and strange gambol of Parsons' earlier works.

With these experiences in my pocket, I attended the Ogden Symphony Ballet Association’s presentation of Parsons Dance at Weber State University with the hope that David Parsons’ creative output had returned in the way I first experienced it. I also came to the show on the heels of taking a technique class from two company members, Zoey Anderson and Justus Whitfield, earlier in the week.

The technique class, offered for BYU students and faculty, juxtaposed Parsons’ recognizable, shape-oriented movement with a house dance exploration inspired by Parsons’ recent collaboration with choreographer Ephrat Asherie.

The show, at WSU’s Val A. Browning Center, opened with a balletic piece, Wolfgang. Commissioned by and created for the Aspen Santa Fe Ballet, the piece (set to Mozart) unfolded in three sections. Three men and three women began; Parsons’ longtime collaborator Howell Binkley’s fantastic lighting design made them visible only by white side light. Soft and elongated port de bras was placed on top of petite allegro steps, all while the dancers changed formations, entered and exited the stage, and took turns in heteronormative duets. The revolving transitions exposed rich dimensions of the proscenium space, and the dance included a plethora of chaîné turns (sealed as a theme due to their sheer number). One female dancer did chaînés around her male counterpart more than a dozen times, which was met with applause from the audience.

In the second section of Wolfgang, when two men delicately lifted their female partners, the third male opted to drag his. In the third section, dancers unexpectedly lined up at the front of the stage, hands on hips, while one male dancer collapsed to sitting, nonplussed, his hand resting on his knee. After two duets were sequentially performed in rectangular spotlights, the third and final partnership advanced into a spot holding one shape and then retreated the way they came with no additional movement. Parsons’ wit and humor was thinly revealed in this well-crafted, well-executed ballet, with enough oddity amongst the regularity of the ballet vocabulary that I found myself gently chuckling.

The second piece was an excerpt from a duet, Finding Center, that was created in 2015 for the Harriman-Jewell Series in Kansas City. It was a breathtaking piece in which Zoey Anderson and Justus Whitfield utilized counterbalance and Pilobolus-esque techniques to effortlessly rise and fall in the spotlight for several minutes. I can’t remember Anderson ever touching the ground. I would bet money she never did, though I cannot be positive because I was distracted by the audience applauding at inappropriate times. The lifts were impressive, but the moments of stasis and settling were disrupted by and lost in the clapping. Should the audience’s trick-promoting response have been absent, the salient moments of the duet would have allowed more pause for thought and offered even more intensity and serenity.

UpEnd, the third piece, was co-choreographed by Parsons and Asherie. I was pleasantly surprised by the percussive score created for the piece, as I had expected generic house music similar to what was used in the technique class. Anderson, a Utah native, began to rise as the star of the show beginning in UpEnd. Her ability to articulate agility, fluidity, and staccato movement upstaged her peers, particularly the other women. She found an equal match in technical mastery with Whitfield, with whom she predominantly partnered in this work.

The movement vocabulary created for UpEnd was even more original and exciting than what I had experienced in the technique class, but the piece as a whole lacked a clear arc and ended strangely. To wrap up, Anderson and Whitfield made contact a few times, held hands, and then finished in a quick and unexpected embrace as the lights faded out. Maybe the arc was meant to mimic that of a shooting star, because the narrative between Anderson and Whitfield both began and concluded in about ten seconds.

The program’s second half opened with Kind of Blue. Commissioned by the Umbria Jazz Festival in Perugia, Italy, this piece made me more than kind of blue: it made me kind of bored. A predictable and gendered quartet of two males and two females dancing to blues music only briefly captured my attention, and I was reminded of Fred Armisen’s “Stand Up for Drummers” (currently streaming on Netflix). In Armisen’s standup routine, he asks the audience to raise their hand the moment their mind wanders while listening to a song. He turns on a jazz track, and within six to ten seconds, the majority of the audience (and Fred) have raised their hands. For me, watching this dance validated Fred’s hypothesis on the engagement power of jazz. But, it was an accessible piece, with lots of shoulder rolls and sassy skirt tosses, so I’m sure it fit well within the programming at the Umbria Jazz Festival.

Finally, the piece came that we had all been waiting for: Caught, David Parsons’ seminal solo. Caught is a beautiful combination of athleticism and technology, and allows the performer to appear as though they are floating in space as they jump into the air more than 100 times. It is the dance version of a flip book, as each jump is caught at the height of its suspension by a flash of light. The solo is performed traditionally by a male company member but at this show, Anderson performed the solo effortlessly, even better than I remember it being on DVD or at a 2009 performance. The audience was on their feet at the end and I wanted to see it a least ten more times.

The show concluded with Whirlaway, commissioned in 2014 for the New Orleans Ballet Association. Joyful and groovy, it was a nice number performed to Allen Toussaint songs, and was choreographed and executed with prime musicality. Again, it featured the predictable gendered coupling of males with females, but this time, there were four males and three females. Anderson once more took a principal role but, while she is absolutely beautiful to watch, I began to wish I could see another performer’s strengths highlighted.

Whirlaway was another well-crafted dance with dimensionality, character, and precise execution, but, as my viewing companion stated, “I always find it sad when I watch professional dancers perform so well, but still feel bored.” The choreography was not bad or boring, and the dancers were energetic and impressively athletic. But it may be that I was tired of seeing works commissioned by other arts organizations and would have rather seen a work motivated by the personal interests and wit of David Parsons himself. That was the kind of work I saw in the company’s 2001 DVD from the library.

I was very impressed with the Parsons dancers, particularly Anderson, as well as with the musicality and craft expressed in Parsons’ choreography. I appreciated the collaboration with house choreographer Asherie and the inclusion of a female performer in the well-beloved Caught. However, upon reflection, the thematic material for each of these pieces (excluding Caught) might be found on a list of ideas created by a student preparing for an audition. Fusing modern dance with blues music or house dancing, or adding a few quirky gestures to ballet, are not hugely innovative ideas. I understand it probably pays to choreograph mainly commissions; the dancers need to be paid, and accessible themes appeal to a greater variety of dance consumers. But I would love to see David Parsons create a piece based on ideas he is interested in exploring, rather than just those that result as part of a commission.

Heather Francis is the Arts Bridge Director and Kinnect Artistic Co-Director at her alma mater, Brigham Young University.