Iridescence at the Rose

As much as I ever have been, I was wowed by the six dancers who currently comprise Ririe Woodbury during the opening night of Iridescence (running through Saturday at the Rose). That’s saying something, given that I’ve been watching this group on and off since I was a little kid. Throughout, I found myself thinking a lot about how the company has shifted over the years and what has remained the same.

Iridescence opened with "Duet" by Bill T. Jones. It’s clearly a dance made not by the Tony award-winner we’re used to seeing on PBS, but a younger man, with different questions on his mind. Jones here is not dealing with anything overtly political as in much of his other work. At first the exploration seems very formal, the space is cut by masking tape that divides the floor into a grid. Jo Blake moves with a clear coolness I’ve never seem him employ. He’s isolating different body parts. But not with the fake, blank sense of “neutrality” some of us might associate with (a parody of) postmodern dance. Instead there’s a true sense of play, like he’s trying all the ways he knows to move each piece and as if for the first time. Tara McArthur walks in on the middle of all of this with a casualness that seems at once to complicate and explain everything Jo has done. There is a kind of accord with what at first glance might seem an arbitrary score. It set to “folk” songs from Madagascar, Iran and the Ivory Coast. This is coexistence, but not in the Cage/Cunningham sense. There’s an awareness of the otherness in this music within an American Modern Dance setting. In general, there’s a sense of felt space, real and metaphorical. There’s play between the steps and subtle humor as this man and woman feel each other while the choreography repeats itself, seeming to be rewritten on the spot to be more clever with each try. (Brad Beakes and Bashaun Williams will dance Duet on Friday. Elizabeth Kelly-Wilberg and Alex Bradshaw dance it Saturday.)

 "Duet" was unique within the evening in that it showcased individuality in the performers. All of the dances that followed (with the exception of one) included the entire company. "West" and "Those in the Desert" by Artistic Director Charlotte Boye-Christensen, sought to evoke places: the American West and the Middle East respectively. Both works featured her trademark use of balletic lines breaking and remaking themselves in rapid succession, pulling the dancers through long limbed partnering that seems directed by some unseen masochistic order. "Those in the Desert" was set to instrumental music by Ibrahim Maalouf which allowed the formalities and rigor of the choreography to dominate, albeit flavored with Arabic harmonies. In "West" however, these taut machinations were performed to (among others) Johnny Cash, Tom Waits and Cat Power. The choreography re-postured itself slightly against the backdrop of each new song, relating to the emotional bravura of Power and Cash and the fast paced word-play in Waits. Sadly for me, this train never really slowed down enough in any of these places for me to see where we were going. What I really wanted was to stop off to look around at the landscape.

"It’s Gonna Get Loud," by Karole Armitage, was ironically one of the quieter pieces of the evening, both in actual volume and in scope. It was similar to "West" in pace, but in a straight-forward, playful way. This dance, set to a triple electric guitar score by seventies composer Rhys Chatham, was trying to be fun and sexy, but it didn’t try too hard, and I think that’s why it succeeded to the extent it did. I was reminded of popular NY choreographers of the nineties and early eighties like Doug Varone and David Dorfman, men who move big across the floor and enjoy themselves immensely. The company enjoyed themselves too and didn’t take it too seriously.

Perhaps the most ambitious piece of the evening was by Keith Johnson, a Californian with strong Utah ties. "Secret Dark World" was full of dance-theatre tropes looking for a home. Throughout, there was an expectation set up that we would view violence. Muted aggression was performed, but never explained or developed. The tone of the work seemed to want to be abrasive and European in the way we might like to imagine European dance as being cutting-edge, but it wasn’t. Deep down it was a very American piece and even a pretty Western piece, more so than Boye-Christensen’s "West." Men and women dance together in couples and then in their respective groups of three. There are chairs in which everyone sits and then slumps as though shot by imaginary bullets. Some of these images seem to find themselves and others don’t. I didn’t feel any catharsis with what I think might have been the central images of the piece. At times this really bothered me. Why was Bashaun Williams crawling, then walking, at the behest of a taunting voice that spoke to him like a dog? And why did the same crawl-walk get re-enacted by Brad Beakes, just one more time, while wearing a dog collar held by Tara McArthur. At other times I didn’t care about the why, though I still wondered. Why did Elizabeth Kelly-Wilberg do that gorgeous, precarious solo while the chairs closed in on her? Perhaps it was just a beautiful goodbye, she’s leaving the company after this season and will certainly be missed.

Sam Hanson choreographs and makes dance film in SLC. You can see his newest project on dancesmadetoorder.com

Emeralds, Roughly Cut

In the three years that I have attended Ballet West shows I have been thoroughly impressed by the company’s breadth. Under the artistic direction of Adam Sklute they have grown to be a leading force in the American ballet scene. For this year’s Spring Season Ballet West presented a brief history in ballet. Beginning with one of the most revered ballets from choreographer Marius Petipa, the Grand Pas from Paquita was a lesson in the roots of the classical ballet. Moving to a more modern take on ballet, Emeralds from George Balanchine’s Jewels was presented as the “main event” for this bill. Lastly, a drastically contemporary piece choreographed by Jiří Kylián, Petit Mort closed the evening.

It was not my expectation, but Petipa’s Grand Pas turned out to be my favorite piece of the evening. Originally first staged on the Imperial Ballet in Russia, Petipa ushers the audience into a Spanish royal court. Heavily influenced with Spanish flavor with simple wrist flicks and coquettish smiles much of the corps movement frames and mimics the main action of the principal ballerina (played by Christiana Bennet on April 14). The corps members themselves worked quite lovely as individuals, though they had a particularly challenging time working as a group. While it was not the strongest technical evening for Christiana Bennet, her commanding presence on stage would easily deceive an untrained eye. I will note that she very laudably executed a full 32 fouette turns, a tradition that has been fading out of vogue that I was pleased to see endured. She remains a mature and artistic dancer taking on leading roles with the gravitas and conviction needed. Rex Tilton (in the male role on April 14) brings a similar assertiveness that is as convincing as it is entertaining to witness. He works as an admirable partner and was particularly impressive both in his pirouettes and tours. I would like to acknowledge a singularly exemplary performance by new member Beckanne Sisk whose variation was exceptionally performed eliciting more than a few well deserved “Bravo’s.” Overall, the Grand Pas was a terrific reminder of why classical ballet formats are so enjoyable to watch.

Typically, Balanchine’s Emeralds is shown as the first in a triptych of his Jewels. It serves as a visually glamourous and lyrical interlude to the rest of the ballet. Within the context of Jewels it reads well and lives up to the splendor of late Balanchine work. In regards to the Ballet West production, it seemed to not know it’s place and was, pardon the pun, a little lack luster. The choreography mimics the costumes; refined and delicately embellished. Balanchine knows how to use a corps as both compliment and counterpoint. The ever changing tableaus were charming and easy on the eye, but the lack of development seemed to make me question it’s placement within the program. While the lighting (including a fully lit “emerald” cyc) was very accurately reconstructed, it seemed at times to swallow the attention away from the dancers. Emeralds is also not a piece that I would say accurately depicts Balanchine’s true nature. Perhaps a more appropriate inclusion to the performance would have been Rubies which demonstrates the harsher more angular and even cold personality that is generally associated with Balanchine’s work.

Petit Mort by Czech choreographer Jiří Kylián was the piece I had anticipated the most for this evening. I regret to say that I was not nearly as impressed as I had hoped to be. Kylián created this work in honor of the death of composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart utilizing two of his most beloved piano concertos. The piece begins with a rumbling of drums that sets the tension. As the curtain rises six men are revealed balancing swords upon their fingers. Thisdelicate image was slightly tainted as one of the men was merely holding his sword in his hand. This was the first of several illusions that was not successfully accomplished during the piece. Kylián’s highly demanding work requires not only a deep understanding of artistic development but also a confidence in one’s own actions. Unfortunately, the Ballet West ensemble was unable to evoke the tragic, clever, and sensitive nature that is inherent in the choreography. While they certainly have the chops to pull of the physicality of more contemporary work, there seemed to be a lack of credence and more pronounced uncertainty in the performers’ attitudes.

While Ballet West remains in my eyes a promising and continually invigorating company, this program did not seem to showcase their skills as an entire group quite adequately. I am looking forward to their Season Finale, Innovations running May 18, 19 and 23-26 at the Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center downtown. Here Ballet West Artists are able to showcase their own work which will hopefully showcase their dancers as equally impressive.

Katherine Adler is a BFA candidate at the University of Utah and an intern for loveDANCEmore

Children's Review: The Little Mermaid

I went to see The Little Mermaid by Ballet West with my dad. We had such a great time.  The show was funny, silly and there was a rainbow of colors. The music was beautiful too. My favorite dances were when the boys carried the girls and they flew across the stage. I also loved the jump twirls, and the boys who spun around really, really fast. The boys were such amazing dancers. Also the pretty tree frogs were funny. They hopped around and moved their bodies in strange ways, and I loved their big sparkly yellow eyes. The sea witch was my favorite character. She looked like a colorful rainbow, but she was mean and took Ariel’s voice. The costumes were so glittery. The prince’s bride had a gold dress and the the crabs had big claws that they moved from side to side. It was really silly. I also really liked the music. I liked the horns with the ribbons. They were very loud and sounded like the music of the rainbow. The little boys played horns and the little girls went up on their toes. It was awesome!

I think everyone should go to the ballet, especially with their dad. I think everyone in the world would like this ballet. It was so much fun.

Lyla Kate Sylvia lives in Sandy, Utah and will start kindergarten in the fall. She started taking her first dance classes this year.

imaginary manifesto

I’ve been pretty vocal about why I don’t typically post reviews of college/university-based productions. It’s because viewing dance in terms of pedagogy is different than viewing it in terms of standard criticism. But that doesn’t mean I’m not wholly interested in what students across the Wasatch Front are learning, thinking and doing. And not only the students I teach but also those whose productions I regularly attend. I am so interested, in fact, that the next journal out this fall will be centered around issues in dance education on a more broad scale.

So tonight I couldn’t help myself and wrote an imaginary manifesto based on the student works I’ve seen at the University of Utah over the past two weekends. This manifesto is based on nothing other than my experience as their audience and what I’m guessing they are telling me through their choreography. I don’t really know if it’s true, or if that matters, I only know that their interests reflect to me what mine once were and how they have changed. Imagining myself in their choreographic pathways is interesting and I wanted to share it.

an imaginary manifesto of 2012 bfa graduates:

We are not interested in revealing any direct premise. Instead, we are interested in how moving together forms it’s own premise(s).

Ambient music is a choice we make not because we like it but because it gives us ample freedoms. Anything can happen once it is on.

If the generation before us was interested in irony we are interested in sincerity.

We are modeling our dances after dances we think are great or inspirational. It is our reminder of what it’s like to dance even while sitting in the seat of choreographer.

We experience that everyone around us has huge expectations for our work but simultaneously hasn’t told us much about what we should do.

Physical prowess is how we identify that we will exist outside of this place even if people around us tell us dance is dying.

We don’t really know a lot about Ruth St. Denis. And you know what? We don’t care.

We imagine that everyone should care about dance as much as we do.

It is the physical act of moving together that we appreciate. And whether moving together forms a career or not — whether moving together forms notoriety or not — whether moving together is a luxury we will have or not — whether or not, it is through moving together that we map ourselves and you find us on a stage before you.

Aspen Santa Fe

Aspen Sante Fe Ballet came to Park City last weekend, and were well-received by a stylish audience. It was my first visit to the Eccles Center for the Performing Arts, which is a large, beautiful theater attached to a public high school. I have never seen arts programs so well-endowed in the public sector. Keep up the good work, Utah!

It was clear that this renowned company had been to Park City before, as the Park City Performing Arts Foundation gave them a warm and familiar welcome. A smallish, spunky group hailing from the Intermountain West, they bely their regional roots with world-class ambition and professionalism.

The first piece of the evening, "Over Glow," was commissioned from Finnish-born Jorma Elo, Resident Choreographer of Boston Ballet. As the dulcet strings of Mendelssohn filled the air, curtains parted to reveal a muscular male dancer, shirtless, in what appeared to be skin-tight denim pants. A plethora of quirky ballet-inspired steps followed, as other men and women took the stage, in denim and taffeta day-glo tennis dresses, respectively. Although the onslaught of technical prowess lost its appeal gradually, I never stopped marveling at the cool confidence of the women. One looked so much like Courtney Cox, another reminded me of Charlize Theron. It could have ended after that first section, and I would have believed that this is all the glamorous panache that Aspen could want in a ballet company.

It did not end after the first section, and to my surprise, I grew to love these quirky characters, and their subtly sweet duets with the butt-hugging denims. So much so that when one of them died, and her denim-man mourned her with such unglamorous, anti-panache, I was indescribably sad. His bare arms were like useless things, shaking and quaking in their confusion, when they did not have the job of holding her. He tried to drag her from the stage, and when it did not work, he stood next to her in his ignoble grief, like an animal mother over the lifeless body of a cub. Not understanding, not calling out, not transcending his grief—he simply stood. I thought it could have ended there, and I would have believed that this incredible turn of events signaled a brave departure from the typical narrative arc.

It did not end, but continued, and more movement followed. The story was absorbed back into compositionally-based ensemble dancing, and when the two lovers found each other again at the very end, I didn’t know what to think anymore. I guess it was perfect for the audience that wants pure-dance, a heart-breaking love story, and then pure-dance again.

This piece was followed by "Stamping Ground," the Aborigine-inspired Jiri Kylian classic. The piece, the dancers, and the set were all beautiful. The structure relies on sinewy and percussive solos and duets. Lines are stretched and distorted, pelvises are thrusted, dancers are forever eyeballing us with the curious stares of roadside wildlife. If you think we are odd, they seem to say, then why are you watching? The rippling, metallic curtains at the back of the stage allow for sudden and surprising entrances and exits; At one point, two collapsed dancers are pulled by invisible hands, sliding through the curtains as though disappearing into the next life. It seems that the boundary between worlds is both permeable and mysterious, and the dancers play with that tension, passing with ease to where we would fear to go.

Ultimately, Kylian’s piece is haunted by the racial overtones of a project that he documented in the film Road to the Stamping Ground. In the film, he describes his creative process in culturally-sensitive terms, taking care to impart that his piece, which takes inspiration from the movement observed in an Australian Aboriginal community gathering, is not cultural appropriation because he does not copy the specific dance movements of the Aborigines. He simply uses their ideas, which he admits are “surprisingly sophisticated” choreographically, to inspire a movement language all of his own. It is “his take” on their culture. I maintain the position that, in exchange, the community that welcomed him into their midst should also be allowed to comment choreographically on Western European culture. Perhaps a two week visit to a ballet camp in the Netherlands would suffice, and then they could present a work of choreography that is inspired by Europe. This seems ridiculous, but it would mirror Kylian’s intentions. I think that it could generate some interesting revelations and discussion, if undertaken sincerely.

Although this choice in repertory brought some heat to my mind, it was a welcome controversy. Certainly it sparked a lively dialogue post-show, whereas the final piece, the relatively lackluster "Where we left off" did not. In the interest of closing this already-lengthy review, I will simply conclude with my current mantra: See dance, talk about it! Be nice when you can and honest all the time! I hope you make it to a dance concert soon, and when you do, I will see you there.

Kitty Sailer is pretty much done with her MFA (thank goodness). Before living in SLC she went to Vassar and danced/made dances in Montana.