RDT's Élan

Repertory Dance Theatre’s season opener, Élan, was an eclectic evening of dance which opened with "HANDSFREE,” a piece commissioned for Britain’s National Youth Orchestra in 2012. The piece tasks performers with creating rhythms by clapping, stamping, singing and beatboxing and RDT’s version draws on the talents of both the company dancers alongside the Utah Youth Orchestra as directed by Barbara Scowcroft. RDT has a rich history of both serving and bridging community, and in this piece it is endearing to see the young people in our valley up on the big stage. To see RDT moving among untrained bodies highlights just how much is both trained in, and trained out, of a modern dancer. New personalities were revealed on that stage ranging from shy and indifferent to megawatts of passion and zeal. While this piece is an abrupt departure from the rest of the program, it surely exposed new audiences to both the company and the practice of modern dance, and was uplifting to see young people working together to create something memorable.  

The next two pieces from Élan feature Gaga Technique, a movement sensibility developed by Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin of the Batsheva Dance Company. Gaga has dramatically risen in popularity and visibility and can be recognized by its open-jointed, three dimensionality, and often percussively gestured, wild use of the body. Choreographers Noa Zuk and Danielle Agami were both dancers with the Batsheva Dance Company, and while their works for RDT dealt with different themes, there was a similar pulse; Gaga seems to be not only a way to approach the moving body but also a potential choreographic structure.

Zuk’s work, “BY THE SNAKE” was commissioned in 2014 and in her words takes ‘ideas and conventions from different traditions of dancing in couples and [develops] a new world from it.’  Efren Corado Garcia and Ursula Perry are the first of the three couples to take the stage and appear as equals in their power and spontaneity. The sound score by Ohad Fishof gives the piece an abstracted coolness, and while it sometimes ventures into the grating and atonal sphere, it prevents the work from being prematurely sentimental. The piece a has non-linear progression that is unexpected and refreshing, at one point it seems to be ending but new life is found with quick and nuanced traveling phrases. The six dancers do well with this physicality and it gives one pause to think of the diverse movement styles that are required when being part of this company. Last season they re-staged works from the Limon technique, and now they are submerging in the vastly different world of Gaga.

While creating the evening’s next piece, “THEATRE,” and teaching at RDT’s SUMMERDANCE, Agami brought her Los Angeles based company Ate9 to Salt Lake to perform for a night in the Rose Wagner Blackbox. In that show, Agami’s “EXHIBIT b,” was a powerful and arresting exploration of conflict in Israel through explosive and yielding movement accompanied by a mix of hip-hop and traditional Iranian music. It was honest and developed, yet unexpected in structure and movement execution. Ate9’s second work, “Vickie,”  was not as distilled and relied on the same structures and sensibilities.

At times, “THEATRE” captured my relationship to both of the prior works by Ate9. Created for the full company, all eight dancers were clad in green uniforms, complete with athletic numbers. While there is no clear explanation for this choice, the costume choice certainly matches the athletic choreography. In this vein, Jaclyn Brown stands out as particularly grounded and precise. But, similar to the Blackbox showing, the inclusion of two pieces relying on similar techniques and structures invites comparison. In the prior concert, “EXHIBIT b,” was the favorite and in this case it’s “BY THE SNAKE” which stands out as more fully honed material.  

The show concludes with “FILAMENT,” a world premiere by Andy Noble, an RDT alumnus, and departs from the Gaga aesthetic to utilize an ever shifting set design to highlight our current relationship with real versus digital bodies. The lighting is remarkable, and some of the images created are breathtaking. At one point the stage is filled with black and white grids, completely transforming the space into something resembling a vast warehouse. Later in the piece Tyler Orcutt covers his digital image with his real image, prompting the screen to lift and reveal the ‘in the flesh’ completion of the projection.  

“FILAMENT,” is a sentimental work, in contrast to the cold world often associated with technology, and features a tender and traditional duet danced by Lacie Scott and Orcutt. The ending is climactic in a way that is familiar, but like a well-loved and watched movie, it is impossible to turn away.

Erica Womack is Salt Lake based choreographer. She currently teaches at SLCC and is working on a collaboration with Srilatha Singh and Raksha Karpor which will premiere in November at Kingsbury Hall.  

Ririe Woodbury's Fall Season

Ririe Woodbury’s 2016 Fall Season presented a re-staging of Tzveta Kassabova’s “The Opposite of Killing” (2010) and Jonah Bokaer’s “Fragments” (created for the company in 2014) alongside the world premiere of artistic director Daniel Charon’s “Elegy.” Linking the three works conceptually was the idea of processing, and its subsequent variations.

“The Opposite of Killing,” which Kassabova notes to be about the “absence of a close friend,” presented an extreme on the spectrum of processing. Throughout the dance, the audience experienced little time to do so between sections of the dance and even between choreographic moments. Transitions were abrupt, quick, and often unexpected - making for a sometimes jarring but always fresh and exciting arc as the movement vocabulary and sections unfolded. Dancers repeatedly changed clothing, the color spectrum morphing as a whole for the group, which also contributed to a continual yet unpredictable impetus forward in a multiplicity of identities.

Kassabova’s movement language is neither completely postmodern nor dancerly, but a surprising combination of the two. Yebel Gallegos had a frantic solo that was imbued with fine detail in gesture and weight-shift. Daniel Mont-Eton negotiated a contorting solo throughout which he maintained hold of his heels. Gallegos and Mary Lyn Graves had a duet in which she pushed him backward along his knees, the two then quickly shifting into position for him to place her down on the floor in a Pietà-like arch.

Moments of unity (all dancing immediately following Melissa Rochelle Younker’s finger snap) bumped up against moments of loneliness (scattered dancing among several lone windmills with spiraling arms). Explosive jumps and lifts (Gallegos tossing Younker up and catching her, all while she was above his head) morphed into reflective moments (Graves in a down pool, appearing to contemplate her relationship to her surroundings). Even transitions between groupings felt uniquely timed within Kassabova’s structure, such that by the time all six ended the dance lying down, it was yet another surprise.

The surprise came first in Bokaer’s “Fragments.” The curtain came up on a triangle on the floor created by blinding fluorescent lights, mirrors hung at different heights and orientations throughout the space. The combined effect of the piece’s ambient sound score and restrained choreographic choices was durational, but it felt more like a test than a purely intentioned question. As an effect of the lights, certain parts of the stage were often or always in shadow. This served to obscure parts of the dance from our fixed viewpoint as audience members; the suspended mirrors also played with obscuring, as in a duet between Graves and Younker where only Graves’ legs were visible from underneath.

Bokaer’s somewhat passive movement language in “Fragments” could be labelled meditative, but I found it frustratingly removed, the dancers appearing deceivingly far away from the proscenium’s fourth wall with no chance of meeting the audience halfway. This could of course be an intentional choice on Bokaer’s part, but I continually wanted to jump up on stage and wander around the environment in order to give myself a new perspective on the action and landscape.

Similar to Kathy Adam’s observation about the piece in 2014, I too felt I could have accessed it better as an installation, free to wander amongst props and bodies and check in and out as needed. Bokaer has created abstract bodies doing abstract things (while Kassabova may feature human bodies doing abstract things), and I craved just a small glimpse of humanity in “Fragments” to draw me into that visually overwhelming, though not completely captivating, world.

Charon’s new “Elegy” is my favorite so far of his new creations for Ririe-Woodbury, and it brought together human bodies doing human things for a powerful conclusion to the evening. The piece was billed as a response to senseless killings, specifically the recent tragic nightclub shooting in Orlando, and it grappled with this subject matter deftly, appropriately, and poignantly. Though the dancers began somewhat separately, almost creature-like, a connection amongst them was palpable from the start. I credit this both to Charon’s choreographic/directing skills and also to the finely-tuned instincts of the dancers. This connection, which manifested even when the dancers were not physically touching, drew me into Charon’s work kinesthetically.

Contrasting physicalities throughout “Elegy” also aided in a kinesthetic ride: At times, the dancers appeared frozen briefly in amber; at others, they moved continuously through viscous honey. Graves had a great solo that started off with frantic steps, wildly off balance, then morphed into a deliciously suspended, off-kilter arabesque.

“Elegy” could perhaps be viewed solely from an abstract perspective and would still be as strong, but it was in knowing the subject matter Charon tackled that I was most impressed. Rarely venturing into uncomfortably literal territory (maybe only at the very end, where Graves knelt over a completely still Bashaun Williams), the dancers offered honest glimpses into a group experiencing tragedy both together and in different combinations of being alone. A chaotic section had all six grabbing at one another, with scattered looks of confusion, but in an attempt to help or to usher one another to safety. As in this section, the narrative throughout the dance was most often rooted in physicality, not just in emotional content, and the improvisation tasks the dancers did in rehearsals for the piece must have further enabled this transparency through their physical bodies.

In a Q&A following the performance, Charon mentioned modern dance as a form that “transcends entertainment.” While maybe not always the case, this program specifically succeeded at just that. Important narratives and broad experiences were abstracted and explored in full transparence, yet still presented challenges to a viewer. Different versions of these narratives and questions emerged: processing by not allowing time to do so; processing by working through specific surrounding details; not directly addressing something and thus obscuring it from scrutiny.

A young girl asked the final question, wondering if the performers were ever so overcome with emotion that they cried onstage while performing. I think it is unique and special that the artists of Ririe-Woodbury transport us so genuinely through the work that they do, and not just through their talent as dancers. Their ability to participate in a dialogue with the community about their work is probably crucial to maintaining a captive audience for modern dance in general, and is helpful at offering additional lenses with which to view such varied and sometimes difficult work. 

Amy Falls regularly contributes to the loveDANCEmore journal. She also coordinates the Mudson series, which returns this Monday, September 19 at the Marmalade Library.

"Dancer" at the Rose

Tour jeté, double cabriole, double tours en l’air, révoltade. Ukrainian-born ballet dancer Sergei Polunin has all these tricks and more up his sleeves (picture the billowing blue ones Polunin wears in Jerome Robbins’ “Other Dances”). If you follow dance, you might be familiar with the “bad boy of ballet” and his endless supply of ballon. If not, Steven Cantor has chronicled 26-year-old Polunin’s life and career (up until now) in his new documentary, “Dancer.” Salt Lake City hosted the world premiere last Wednesday at the Rose Wagner, through a free screening programmed by the Utah Film Center. Afterward, Doug Fabrizio of RadioWest led a Q&A session with Cantor.

First, a brief history - Polunin grew up in Kherson, a poor mining town in Ukraine. His mother moved with him to Kiev so he could train at a better school, and his father and grandmother each moved to another country to find more lucrative jobs to support his education. He enrolled at the Royal Ballet School at 13, thanks in part to these great sacrifices. By age 20, he had moved through the school, skipping three levels along the way, and up the ranks of the Royal Ballet to that of principal. But two years later, he quit. In Polunin’s case, walking away from a coveted job as a young artist with such talent was not an isolated event; it was a crescendo for his “bad boy” image, gained partly from his affinity for tattoos but largely from his reputation for partying and drug use. Polunin has admitted to doing cocaine before performing as well as grappling with depression and self-harm.

Throughout “Dancer,” Polunin’s relationship to ballet was the most moving: As he put it himself, it was no longer just fun after a certain age. He hoped to use ballet to bring his family back together, and struggled with feelings of owing his family for their contributions to his career. Yet even his successes didn’t bring his family together again. (His parents eventually divorced.) There is a heart-warming scene toward the film’s end where he invites his mother, father, and grandmother to see him perform for what might be the first time in his professional career. There’s also a scene where Polunin visits his first dance teacher in Kherson, bringing her flowers and hopping on stage for an impromptu performance in jeans for her young students. Speaking purely about the arc of the film, I thought that “Dancer” was notably stronger in narrative structure than the disappointing recent documentary about American Ballet Theatre principal Misty Copeland. (Copeland achieved something great, is incredibly talented, and is also a positive spokeswoman and role model - why couldn’t “A Ballerina’s Tale” have told that story more compellingly?) But my viewer’s engagement with Polunin’s story stops there.

I don’t like the “bad boy” framing and I tried to envision what the trajectory might be for a woman who openly admitted to performing while high and who flaunted the discipline of the form by not taking class seriously, by arriving tardy for rehearsals, or by quitting an engagement by failing to show up (as Polunin did for a Peter Schaufuss Ballet production in 2013). If anyone has an example of a female principal who continues to be adored despite such offenses, I would be more understanding of this glorification of Polunin - a glorification that seems to occur not in spite of his many missteps, but because of them. (And I mean a modern ballerina, I am familiar with the rampant drug abuse of the Gelsey Kirkland era.)

Maybe it’s because Polunin is such a good dancer that we are inclined to make excuses for him (though no excuses were made by U.S. artistic directors when none of them would hire him after he quit the Royal Ballet). And Polunin has endured suffering and known sacrifice, which pulls heartstrings and creates fans. But would we make excuses for other talents who follow this trajectory?

Given the gender ratio within dance, women might be replaced in a flash while men, in fewer numbers, are considered more special. As a result, Polunin has been able to get away with things (in life and in the film) that would be perceived and received differently if he was not a man. Cantor includes a scene in the film from Polunin’s personal video archive that shows him stripping down naked in the street right after quitting the Royal Ballet in an attempt to make a naked snow angel. The scene comes off a little “boys will be boys” (Ryan Lochte, anyone?) and a woman rolling around naked in public would garner a different dialogue. By extension, the response to Polunin’s choices might also be different if he was not white.

I am bothered by Polunin’s image, which he seems to enjoy cultivating. But I am also bothered by how Cantor presents us with his subject. To me, Polunin is undisputedly famous, and yes, maybe I think so because I follow dance like it’s the only news. But Polunin was on my radar a long time before his viral “Take Me to Church” video with recording artist Hozier. Even if Polunin is only “dance famous,” that means he was still well-known in a large, international community, yet I got the feeling from the Q&A that Cantor might think his documentary is now making Polunin “actually famous.”   

Cantor offered us a window into the life of this star, this brilliant yet troubled male dancer who might have continued to exist in obsolescence but to a few balletomanes if not for this documentary (and the power of YouTube). Here, I offer up Ashley Anderson’s discussion of Ira Glass’ “This American Life” and his recent featured choreographer, Monica Bill Barnes. While Cantor’s remarks aren’t exactly like Glass’s, the implication is similar. Glass says, “I barely ever go to dance, and sometimes don’t feel like I ‘get’ dance,” on his decision to tour with Barnes; Cantor says Polunin might “make more of his name” as a result of the film. Cantor and Glass both feel like they are doing dance a service by guiding the public to it in a way that personally interests them and as a dancer, I am left feeling a little betrayed.

“Dancer” doesn’t provide the audience with much insight about dance, other than that it’s hard, that people make sacrifices, and that Polunin is ridiculously good at it (although even the footage of him dancing throughout the film is not particularly varied in terms of performance quality - it’s all tricks). This lack of comprehension of how the dance world functions at even its most basic level became apparent during the Q&A.

Someone wondered aloud to Cantor, how did dancers even make money? Was it through a portion of ticket sales, and why, despite Polunin’s talent and fame, did he not appear to have the worldly riches of, say, a rockstar? Cantor was asked how Polunin measures himself up to Nureyev or to Nijinsky, to which Cantor replied that Polunin is not really a “student of the history of ballet,” and rather that he views his generation as more of the “go do it” types. I thought that spoke volumes. If someone who has devoted their life to ballet is not a student of its history, then who is? If someone who devotes even a fraction of their life’s work to the subject of dance is not able to provide audiences with valuable information about the art form, then who is?

Disappointingly, even Fabrizio seemed unable to direct interesting questions Cantor’s way, coming up with “What’s it like [filming] him, is it hard?” I guess he meant, was it hard to capture Polunin’s bravura jumps and tricks within the camera’s frame? Apparently it was not, since a great deal of the documentary is just clips of Polunin dancing.

Cantor made “Dancer” with his daughter in mind, who studies ballet, and his constant (though joking) reference to now “being the cool dad” in her eyes belies my perception of the film. I appreciate that Cantor chose to tell Polunin’s story. But I also could have gleaned almost as much from existing online resources. Cantor included the whole “Take Me To Church” music video in the film, followed by a montage of home videos featuring kids dancing to the video in their living rooms, and the woman sitting next to me told me afterward that she had seen the videos of dancing kids but never the one of Polunin - in the true spirit of internet meme culture.

I want Polunin to succeed and have adoring fans, but I also want dance to succeed outside adoration for the featured dancer of the moment. I want people to walk away from a film about dance thinking more than just, dance must be so hard, or, that dancer is so screwed up (“Black Swan,” “Center Stage,” even “The Red Shoes”). I want to walk away reminded that dance has relevance outside the objectification of physical ability or “bad boy” tendencies. Maybe in order to forget about all of this, I’ll go watch “Take Me to Church” (again): I think it all must come back to the ballon - it’s quite the vehicle for escapism.

Amy Falls is the loveDANCEmore performance coordinator. She currently performs with Erica Womack and Municipal Ballet Co., among other projects.