Two beautiful solo aerialists soar high overhead like fearless angels–a young woman on a flying trapeze, twisting her pulchritudinous body into amazing configurations, and a daring young man masquerading convincingly as Peter Pan. Village Voice 11/14/05
Archives for 2005
Cisne Negro Dance Company
Vasco Wellencamp’s Canticos Misticos (to blaringly miked excerpts from Handel’s Messiah) contains several semi-abstract images that go right to the heart of the matter, many a pretty moment that confuses sentiment with deep feeling, and an unfortunate desire to cater to the dancers’ inner athlete that just about defines the company’s aesthetic. Village Voice 11/29/05
ACFDance
While some of Adrienne Celeste Fadjo’s dancers outclassed their material, the overall impression was that of work not yet at a professional level. Village Voice 11/23/05
MOVING AROUND NEW YORK
BALLROOM UNDER THE SKY
Midsummer Night Swing: First there’s a 45-minute lesson, then, as the sun slowly goes down over the plaza, two hours of unfettered outdoor dancing to the vivacious sounds of the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. “Make yourself sassy,” the instructor calls, as a marvelously motley crowd rehearses the basics of the lindy hop. “There’s a difference between wonderbread and groovin’.” Bodies hunker into lowdown mode. Feet swivel in and out without impeding the jaunty backstep, step, step, backstep, kick, kick.
The dancing crowd is a cross-section of the city’s citizenry. Ethnically and socially, it’s all over the map. The seven ages of humankind are well accounted for and looking good: a toddler swung in a dancing dad’s embrace; little girls luminous with their fantasies; scruffy, uncertain adolescent boys destined to mature into heroes; exotically gorgeous twentysomethings; happily bourgeois middle-aged twosomes; elders refusing to let the years quell their response to rhythm.
“Time to get close.” Swirls and twirls get added on, partners dipping under each others’ arms. “Hug her in, guys, then set her free–but not so free you can’t summon her back with a little tug on her hand.” The teaching done, the orchestra moves into full gear. Now the seasoned veterans of many another ballroom let their imaginations soar, inventing personal variations of elements like the dip, in which the gal swoops from vertical to diagonal in one swift move, her guy ensuring that she’s safely suspended halfway between heaven and earth. Beginners, both the shy and the eager, stolidly trace the lindy’s primary maneuvers with their feet, while, above the waist, their bodies begin to curve and twine. The dance floor throbs with the double beat of steps and music. Just about everyone in sight looks guilelessly happy.
Surely this dancing is a metaphor for a good life: an endless stream of giving and taking; grace in spontaneity; instinctively anticipating a partner’s footfalls and handholds and responding to them in kind, now and then embellishing the basics with snazzy flourishes; maintaining the beat, no matter what; adorning the action with a smile.
CLASS
A dozen taut-muscled dancers sit poised for action on the floor of a clean, well-lighted space. At a nearly imperceptible signal from their instructor and an eruption of sound from a piano in the corner, they launch into their daily ritual of exercises. Their movement, invented by Martha Graham, is rooted in the principles of contraction and release. It emanates from the body’s gut; this is no arms and legs affair. It requires–beyond strength and endurance–intense inner focus, deep concentration.
Joyce S. Lim & Paz Tanjuaquio
Two New York choreographers whose work is profoundly connected to southeast and eastern Asia paired up for a concert of striking contrasts. Village Voice 11/11/05
“Watching Ligeti Move: Three Ballets by Christopher Wheeldon”; “Rules of Engagement”
Any one of Christopher Wheeldon’s dances to Ligeti would confirm this choreographer’s astute craft and hint at an originality still struggling to emerge from a self-imposed tutelage under great masters. All three pieces proved that more can be less. The thrill of JoAnna Mendl Shaw’s Rules of Engagement lay in the danger one sensed–and the erotic undercurrent present–in the close encounters of beast and human. Village Voice 11/1/05
VERSATILITY REIGNS
David Hallberg, dancing with American Ballet Theatre / City Center, NYC / October 19 – November 6
When I first got addicted to ballet, type casting prevailed. The men naturally selected to play Princes (Swan Lake’s Siegfried, Giselle’s Albrecht) were as tall, handsome, and harmoniously proportioned creatures as a company’s roster could provide, their dancing a marriage of exactitude and flow. Management assigned these latter-day Greek gods Odette-Odiles and Giselles with matching attributes.
Demi-caractère dancers (more earthbound and/or more overtly virtuosic) were creatures of a decidedly different category and duly given other kinds of roles presumably suited to their anatomy and their gifts. Similarly, wiry, feisty young women with craggy faces, proletarian bodies, and technique that exposed rather than concealed ballet’s athletic base got to be the Cowgirl in Rodeo. There the model was the ballet’s choreographer, Agnes de Mille, who first played that leading role, which was, perhaps, a spiritual autobiography. De Mille’s most apt successor in that part may well have been Christine Sarry, an unforgettable dancer of similar physical type and style (though she had the additional attribute of projecting a tenderness that could make you cry). At ABT today, type casting is still evident—and, in many cases, wise. Erica Cornejo, one of the company’s most gratifying dancers, though the antithesis of the Swan Queen type, promises to be an ideal Cowgirl. (She gets her chance to prove her mettle in the revival of the ballet, slated for its first showing on opening night).
Way back when, dramatic dancers (emotionally charged in a Freudian rather than a poetic way—think Nora Kaye, dancing Tudor) made a third distinct category and, though casting occasionally broke these boundaries, often out of sheer necessity, they were for the most part respected. Times have changed, however, and dance-world customs with them, as is evident in David Hallberg’s wildly assorted assignments for American Ballet Theatre’s current season at the City Center. It’s hard to think of roles more disparate than the Poet in Fokine’s Les Sylphides, Death in Kurt Jooss’s The Green Table, and the title role in Jerome Robbins’s Afternoon of a Faun.
Hallberg is a natural for only one of these ballets—Les Sylphides. It was evident from the moment he appeared on the ABT scene in 2001, a beautiful blank, that he was born to play noble roles featuring lyrical dancing and melancholy yearnings. He’s a blond young prince—with a profile worthy of a Roman coin and a long, streamlined, exquisitely proportioned body—who has been schooled in a limpid classical style (to which the Paris Opera contributed as well as ABT). In the Fokine, where he plays the sensitive loner who wanders into a nocturnal glen haunted by gossamer visions, he’s absolutely prototypical.
No so for The Green Table, the ever-relevant antiwar ballet, where he takes the lead role of Death, who claims all participants. This devouring monster, who has a slithering, almost slimy quality to him, is a figure of tremendous authority and menace—like Voldemart, I explained to the kid slated to accompany me to a performance of the work. Death, in the Jooss ballet, is not merely a villain but a suprahuman force, and portraying him effectively calls for huge physical presence coupled with intense psychic energy. If you were type casting the role you’d hand it over without a second thought to Carlos Acosta.
Traditional European-sprung fairy tales, created long before the principles of political correctness affected our consciousness, employ a shorthand in which the hero is fair, the antihero dark. (It helps a prince’s case, too, if he’s conventionally handsome, the underlying idea being that beauty of a certain sort—every society, of course, creates it own singular model—indicates moral worth.) Other traditions have contributed to our instinct to associate dark coloring with sensual power. Thus an ideal male dancer in Robbins’s Afternoon of a Faun was the creator of the role, Francisco Moncion, whose looks bore witness to his Hispanic/Indian ancestry. Hallberg, on visual inspection a Nordic type, is in no way an obvious successor to this tradition. All he clearly has going for him is his remarkable beauty and an aloofness in appearance that will serve him well in conveying the narcissistic aspect of the young man who is so intent upon his reflection in the mirror of the ballet studio where the action is set. Embodying the more important erotic charge of the character will be a challenge to him. If he’s an imaginative artist, as I suspect he may be, the assignment could be revelatory. Needless to say, casting against the grain is educational for both performers and their fans.
David Hallberg will appear in Les Sylphides on October 20 & 30 matinee; in The Green Table on October 21, 25, & November 2; and in Afternoon of a Faun on October 22 matinee & 29 evening.
© 2005 Tobi Tobias
“Ballets Russes”
This splendid documentary film shows how the Ballets Russes evolved into a pair of rival companies that crisscrossed America, seducing both cultural innocents and sophisticates with glamour, beauty, and transcendence. Village Voice 10/18/05
Juilliard Dance Ensemble
Abetted by the hypnotic effect of Steve Reich’s Drumming, Eliot Feld’s Sir Isaac’s Apples seems to offer a God’s-eye view of a human colony persevering in a faraway landscape. Village Voice 10/14/05
Kim Whittam & Company; Compagnia Danza Francesca Selva
Whittam’s lithe, upbeat dancers look vastly at ease in movement that’s both slinky and bubbly, laced with the warmth and trust necessary to its contact improv tactics; Selva’s Just Walking looks like it wants to be “about” something–postmodern anomie, the vicissitudes of love, Tuscan traditions–but it never makes clear just what. Village Voice 9/19/05