Repertory Dance Theatre: Sounds Familiar

Repertory Dance Theatre’s Sounds Familiar began in a manner that was also familiar, the director striding through the closed curtain to deliver pre-show remarks. Immediately, though, this familiarity was playfully subverted. Artistic and executive director Linda C. Smith executed a perfect act of vaudeville opposite an airborne pest, through attempts to shoo, entice, capture, and eventually menace it with a baseball bat, to Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee.” It was on the nose, tongue in cheek, surprising, and, yes, brief enough to be both compact and impactful. The program continued in this fashion. 

A diverse dozen of local artists was called upon to choreograph short works to culturally prominent pieces of classical music. This seemingly simple premise was likely tricky to produce, involving a great deal of structure to support many discrete works, a conceptual scaffolding to hold them together, and a good deal of trust and investment in many artists to pull it off - which RDT did, and beautifully so. 

Each musical selection was one deeply embedded in current culture. When called on to consider such a selection explicitly, it is often to the tune of asserting value or declaiming knowledge. Sounds Familiar is a title that perfectly encapsulates this production’s opposite approach. Video interludes presented history and context, serving as transitions while dancers and stage were reset. With the benefit of educational content, and without judgment, the audience’s tacit recognition of a classical song could become the patent processing of new, affecting interpretations. This complex pairing of familiar and unexpected must have been challenging to produce on the front end. However, it was perfectly simple and rewarding to appreciate. 

Three reprising solos by Molly Heller, duets by Nicholas Cendese, Natosha Washington, and Luc Vanier, and a solo by Sharee Lane danced by Ursula Perry were instantly memorable. 

Heller’s pieces effectively utilized repetition and escalation on many levels. The solos were interspersed throughout the program, grounding what was otherwise successive and fast-paced. Each solo was set to the same Bach prelude (from Cello Suite No. 1). Each dancer occupied the same space while moving through graspable patterns of repetition into escalations of phrasing that then moved beyond our ability to track. Dancers Trung “Daniel” Do, Jaclyn Brown, and Jonathan Kim each inhabited this echoed approach wholly differently. The reflection of the internal structure of the music with its repeated themes and variations, and the play on the very notion of a prelude, was motivated and moving. I could watch an infinite iteration of dancers traversing that diagonal, to that suite, under Heller’s direction and never, ever tire of it.

Nicholas Cendese’s piece for Do and Kim, set to Beethoven’s “Für Elise,” was spare in staging and totally full in aesthetic sensibility. The two duetted with gorgeous synchronicity, established some iconic movements, and then used them as landmarks of recognition for departure into fiercely individual contemporary movement. The integration of contemporary social dance wasn’t imitative or exploitative. It was seamless and completely culturally legible and authentic, in flawless contrast to the music’s deeply imprinted piano rondo. I hope I forever associate those arpeggiated alternating motifs in A minor with these two incredible performers. It was like viewing a film in which you let yourself sit back, suspend disbelief, and simply enjoy the craft, and then leave the theater suspecting that you might’ve just enjoyed a piece of incisive social criticism.

Duets by Natosha Washington and Luc Vanier were each richer in staging and setting. Washington’s featured a tableau of archetypes: a statuesque woman in an impossibly long gown, obscuring a pedestal, with a man below; a bouquet of flowers; a chalk circle; and the darkly shining instrument of pianist Ricklen Nobis. Vanier’s set was Washington’s dystopian mirror, or foil: dancers enrobed in hazmat ponchos, trashed couches and a glitching television on squeaky casters, cyclorama projections of desolate environments, and a faint tinny musical recording. Both pieces explicitly treated challenging topics. Washington’s duet brought immediate gravity to the inherent romance of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” Dancers Ursula Perry and Tyler Orcutt exhibited a mastery of contained fluidity that established the weight of connection, and their artistic maturity allowed it to arrive safely and responsibly at a depiction of intimate partner violence. Every choice, from the initial selection of the music and its live execution, to the stage dressing and perfect casting, supported the presentation of something darkly beautiful and deeply considered. 

Vanier’s duet was equally human and thoughtful in its treatment of ecological disaster. It built slowly and never hurried, allowing for the changeable pacing of the video background. Lauren Curley and Dan Higgins have the incredible ability to project their awareness at each other with their attention drawn in opposite directions, past each other, or into the middle distance, which made every act of intricate partnering or the intimate brushing back of a plastic hood intensely chilling. The dramatic physical scale of the projection and the indistinct symphonic strains of Beethoven framed the human drama, creating with the set and costuming a built world evoking Ray Bradbury or Ursula K. LeGuin’s science and speculative fiction.

Ursula Perry’s solo, choreographed by Sharee Lane, was a virtuoso accomplishment. Not for a moment did the Puccini aria overshadow Perry’s movement. It done was in my favorite kind of contemporary ballet vernacular, and felt connected to the very core of its performer. It is good to be reminded that the complementary acts of reaching out and digging down haven’t been mined to nothing yet. There was an untellable richness and feeling to Perry’s performance. A marriage of the universal and the personal is itself a classical artistic aspiration, and it was wonderful to see it carried out by these experienced, capable artists.

There were some very successful ensemble pieces in the program as well. Sara Pickett and Nathan Shaw showed impressive command of formations, the former most notably in passing lines and the latter in the transmutations of unison trios. Nancy Carter’s piece was well-rehearsed and intricate, fully exploring range and levels through the modality of bungee. It was quite stylistically cohesive, such that the inclusion of different instrumentations of the same Bach fugue was a confusing choice. Elle Johansen seemed especially confident and at ease dancing tethered to an aerial rig. 

Sounds Familiar achieved a sense of history, diverse voice, and community presence, all of which I am grateful to have witnessed. In so doing, it also showcased the incredible caliber of its company, which performed 15 discrete works with tireless commitment. The show was a success belonging to many, certainly not least these eight strong dancers.

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.

Ballet West: Jewels

While George Balanchine’s Jewels may be best known as the first full-length abstract ballet, I find its magnificence resides in other features: its brilliant display of ballet’s history and the ways dancers and music convey different moods or atmospheres. Ultimately, I find the three sections of Jewels speak to the values of diversity and inclusivity, and by extension to the importance of honoring different artists and cultures.

This was especially apparent Saturday night when there was a special ceremony for Bruce Caldwell, honoring his 50 years of work with Ballet West as a dancer and currently as ballet master and company archivist. As the audience applauded at the end of the performance, Caldwell was on stage to receive a rose from many partners he worked with during his dancing career, including Jane Wood, Maggie Tesch, and Sharee Lane. It was a poignant acknowledgement of the commitment and love dancers bring to their profession.

It was also a fitting ending to a ballet that has a celebratory vibe: the richness of the costumes in Jewels, plus the size of the cast (34 dancers are on stage for the polonaise that closes the performance), make the evening a dazzling affair. On Saturday night I found the women in particular, both in leading roles as well as in the corps, were exceptional.

Emeralds, the first section, set to music by Gabriel Fauré, was a dreamlike series of encounters, and Katlyn Addison and Emily Adams were exquisite. They conveyed the sense of mystery and detachment that makes me think of Romantic ballet when I watch Emeralds. The longer tutus (designed by Barbara Karinska) recall the costumes of La Sylphide or Giselle, and the relationships between the men and women tend to be unresolved. There were lush, reaching gestures that looked like the dancers were being swept and blown through the phrases. A pas de deux ended with the dancers walking backwards into the wings, their chests lifted to the sky in a moment of reverie or surrender. The ballet ended with three men kneeling and raising one arm towards the wings, a gesture that evoked a sense of longing since the women had just exited. In last night’s performance it seemed to mark a moment of gratitude for the elegance of these women. The 10 women in the corps were incandescent: their bourrées suggested the shimmering of a gem. This was especially impressive Saturday night because the cast included dancers of Ballet West II––Jordan DePina, Savannah Lyle, Alexandra Terry, and Victoria Vassos­­––who blended seamlessly with the company members.

Artists of Ballet West in George Balanchine’s Rubies. Photo by Beau Pearson.

Rubies presented the slinky atmosphere of a jazz club (Igor Stravinsky’s score for this section was first performed in 1929). The section opened with the dancers standing in 4th position, arms high in V-like shapes, with the women en pointe. They jutted their hips with sassy thrusts and instantly the reverie of Emeralds dissipated: now we were in the land of “cool.” On Saturday night the four men, Kyle Davis, David Huffmire, Ryo Munakata, and Joshua Shutkind, were riveting: exquisite in their execution of fast phrases and precise steps. When they partnered Addison, who appeared regal and queen-like in Rubies, they attentively placed her wrists and ankles in développé and arabesque positions. They seemed to be displaying her fantastic lines like a ruby would be displayed on a pedestal; and Addison’s confidence recalled other powerful women in Balanchine’s repertory, like the Siren in Prodigal Son. Her headpiece made me think of the crown worn by Wonder Woman, an apt comparison given that Addison stepped into this leading role in Rubies for Emily Neale just after performing in Emeralds. Other corps dancers who shone in this section included Jenna Rae Herrera and Chelsea Keefer, both soloists with the company, who performed with an infectious joie de vivre.

The moment the curtain opened for Diamonds, there was applause from the audience. This section recreated the stately opulence of Tsarist Russia. The score by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky and the white tutus worn by the corps of 12 women conveyed the refined sophistication of a royal ball. Typical of Balanchine’s ballets, the corps took a central role and again the dancers included members from Ballet West II––Terry and Vassos plus Cy Doherty, Robert Fowler, Noel Jensen, Joseph Lynch, and Jake Preece––who contributed to the magnificent vision of courtly elegance.

In the leading roles, Beckanne Sisk and Chase O’Connell were gorgeous, and special moments included the way he knelt to her during the beginning of their pas de deux, as if to ask, “Can I have the honor of dancing with you?” Their solos, especially his execution of à la seconde turns, were phenomenal, and again the audience applauded. Sisk’s choreography included gestures that recalled Swan Lake, with arms like wings, yet without any reference to a specific character or narrative. Instead these moments, that evoked the 19th century, reminded me how Balanchine was updating ballet’s vocabulary, making it relevant to the 20th century. On Saturday night there were exceptional performances by female soloists––Gabrielle Salvatto, Katie Critchlow, Chelsea Keefer, and Amber Miller––who danced with the speed, precision, and joy that are Balanchine’s trademarks. They continually captured my attention, an impressive feat when the cast numbered 34 dancers.

Artists of Ballet West in George Balanchine’s Diamonds. Photo by Beau Pearson.

A week before this performance I watched a rehearsal of this section led by Sandra Jennings, who performed, and now stages, Balanchine’s repertory. Her cues to the dancers to “really step out” while maintaining exact positions, revealed the ways that Balanchine extended the classical vocabulary. Jennings’s attention to detail was impressive: noticing how a slight shift in a dancer’s shoulder in arabesque distorted the feeling of uniformity among the soloists. I imagine Jennings would have appreciated how thoroughly the cast embraced her directions and presented a gorgeous performance of Balanchine’s aesthetic.

A through-line of the evening was the exceptional music, conducted by Jared Oaks, Ballet West’s music director. Each section conveyed a different characteristic, from dream-like to jazzy to elegant, that was generated by the musicians as well as the dancers. Jewels is known for its close connections between the scores and the steps, and any time musicians and dancers are working well together, there’s a distinct synchronicity: we are watching how artists in the orchestra and artists on stage are generating this work of art collaboratively. When I attended the rehearsal led by Jennings, I noticed that Oaks was present as well: his deep knowledge of the dancers’ needs, combined with his attentive conducting, made watching Ballet West perform Balanchine’s ballet an extraordinary experience.

The costumes, courtesy of Cincinnati Ballet and Pacific Northwest Ballet, added to the evening’s glamour, and it was exciting to see how each jewel’s costume was created by combining multiple shades of its color: green for emerald, red for ruby, and white for diamond. This diversity added to the ballet’s theme of embracing multiple nations and styles.

When Balanchine made this ballet in 1967, he was fortunate to be working with a special cast of artists: Violette Verdy and Conrad Ludlow, Mimi Paul and Francisco Moncion; Patricia McBride, Edward Villella, and Patricia Neary; Suzanne Farrell and Jacques d’Amboise. What was exciting about Ballet West’s production last night was noticing how many talented artists in Ballet West II could become new members of the company, and how many artists in the company, like Kyle Davis, Jenna Rae Herrera, Chelsea Keefer, and Gabrielle Salvatto, are thriving and could soon be moving into more featured roles. Just like Jewels is a celebration of different countries, as well as artists from different countries, Ballet West is a company that has a rich diversity of dancers in terms of backgrounds, body types, and countries of origin. At this particular moment in the States, I find this celebration of difference an important message about the richness of cultural diversity, and the contributions that people from many nations make to our definitions of what it means to be American.

 Kate Mattingly is an assistant professor of dance at the University of Utah. She has a doctoral degree in performance studies from UC Berkeley, and has had writing published in The New York Times, The Village Voice, Dance Research Journal, Dance magazine, and Pointe magazine, among others.