EIGHT/MOVES

EIGHT/MOVES
Z Space, San Francisco
August 16th, 2024

While a new dance company vaulted onto the San Francisco contemporary dance scene this past weekend, the artistic visionary behind this endeavor is no stranger to audiences. With a resume that includes stints with top regional dance institutions (like ODC/Dance, Post:Ballet and Robert Moses’ KIN), Mia J. Chong is beloved in her community and in Bay Area performance spaces. You could feel that admiration and affection percolating in Z Space on Friday night as EIGHT/MOVES offered their inaugural performance. Filled with poise, confidence and joy, Chong greeted the crowd and shared her mission for EIGHT/MOVES, noting that this new troupe would be committed to an unlimited creative environment where BIPOC, AAPI and marginalized voices could shout and sing. If the debut performance was any indication, this company is certainly going to be one to watch in the coming years. The program featured three premiere works, each one co-choreographed - for Common Gradient, Chong teamed up with Keerati Jinakunwiphat, Themes of Remembering with Rena Butler and finally Steam with KT Nelson.

EIGHT/MOVES in Common Gradient
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Common Gradient was my favorite work of the evening; a physical novella whose chapters communicated different tones, qualities and dynamics. Six dancers, costumed in dark pants and flowy silk tops, entered the space for Gradient’s joyful beginning. It was like we were witnessing atomic structures breaking apart and coming back together to form collective tableaux. Some of these living pictures would recur throughout the dance as new tonal layers and textures were simultaneously unveiled. Sometimes there was an atmosphere of caring. Sometimes of frustration. Of indifference. One duet felt quite charged, maybe even tortured. It was a fabulous start to EIGHT/MOVES debut performance.

As the lights went up on Themes of Remembering, I (and I’m sure many viewers) found myself pondering what the act of remembering entails. What is required in order to remember? As the trio unfolded, one answer was evident in the staging and the choreography – that remembering often involves searching. Searching for details; searching the mind; searching for a person. Themes began with each dancer taking a solo turn sitting in a spotlight, while they smiled upon an empty pool of light diagonally downstage. The moment was both sweet and poignant. And then came the movement phrases, which certainly evoked that sense of searching. Shifting gazes and altered directions; arms reaching outward and staccato reflexive motions. Backtracking through space, being propelled forward and throwing oneself off-balance. 

EIGHT/MOVES in Steam
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Steam was the longest piece on Season 1’s program, danced by the full company of seven alongside a very unique guest artist. Chong had mentioned in her earlier remarks that Steam was going to mine the frightening truth of climate change, and to that end, Chong and Nelson invited an eighth participant into the mix: the explosive smoke and billowing haze that blanketed the stage from beginning to end. Composition-wise, Steam saw post-modern modalities meet with this urgent narrative frame. Sometimes with such topical works and theatrical elements, the movement itself can get a bit lost. But not here. The choreography was quite technical and aptly handled by the cast. One throughline that was readily apparent was that of purposeful struggle. Struggles to breathe or to fully extend. The struggle to stop shaking, stay upright or even remain prone on the ground. The struggle for balance. Steam was primal, a true fight against reality and circumstance. Beautifully danced in all chapters, a unison quartet mid-way through was a particular stand-out. Having said that, I did lose the thread during the lengthy middle sequence – its slower pace was interesting, though overall, it felt out of sync with the rest of the piece. And from time to time, the sound (though this was true in all three works) was too piercing.

Ballet22

Ballet22
ODC Theater, San Francisco
August 11th, 2024

Ballet22 is a dance company on the move. Since debuting in 2020, they have been staking their claim in the ballet world, upending conventions, disrupting presumptions and impressing audiences with every performance engagement. The company’s website says it best, noting that they are dedicated to “presenting men, mxn, and non-binary artists “en pointe.” And this past weekend they, once again, lived into that vision with 2024’s summer season - a mixed repertory bill of classic and contemporary dance works. The pointework was sparkling, phenomenal and textbook precise. Every pointe dancer can gain valuable insight into their practice from witnessing these talented artists.

The program’s first half transported viewers to the 1800s with excerpts and variations from Acts I and II of the beloved Giselle. While Giselle is not a Bournonville ballet per se, one couldn’t help but notice that each divertissement had that specificity of execution. Delicate, yet fast footwork, bright briseés and shining diagonal turning combinations. Control and balance abounded as did lofty airiness and an exactitude of foot placement. It was quite dazzling. Arms floated in 3rd arabesque. Renversé sang through the space. Fluttery boureés skated along the stage’s surface. And the jumps! Cabrioles hung in the air before returning to earth. Sissone assemblé darted forward with intention and purpose. And Giselle’s final batterie series, danced Sunday afternoon by Ashton Edwards, was both artistically and technically flawless.

Daniel R. Durrett and Ashton Edwards in
Forsythe's Approximate Sonata
Photo Gabriel Lorena

Contemporary sensibilities were in store with Ballet22’s second act, a collection of four diverse, intricate pieces. First up was William Forsythe’s Approximate Sonata, a duet created in 1996, whose choreographic material was revisited in 2016. Like many Forsythe ballets, Approximate Sonata celebrated extremes. Exaggerated splits, extensions and attitude postures coupling with supple arms, avian wrists and a sinuous spine. Houston Thomas’ Solo02: KANA, danced by Kobe Courtney, had a delicious off-balance feel with intense, swift directional shifts. I also couldn’t shake influences of Wayne McGregor and Alwin Nikolais throughout the dance. 

A world premiere commission for Ballet22, Christian Denice’s Love Me Tender was the only work on the program without a pointe element to it. It was emotionally charged. It was evocative. It was nuanced. For a trio of performers, Love Me Tender had a number of modalities and forces at play. One was the sense of pulling and pushing – being pulled one way and pushed another. Cantilevering also imbued the pas de trois: positions and partnering that require equal support and strength of others to build and sustain. Love Me Tender also had an incredibly interesting finale. The physicality and the score (by Perfume Genius) came together in a modern-Baroque dialog where movement phrases and musical voices were simultaneously independent and interdependent.

Ballet22 closed their summer event with a second Thomas creation - a pointe quartet titled Bass Am Wasser – and in reading the program notes, it becomes immediately clear how important nature and water are to this ballet. Costumed in plain black unitards and jewel-tone, opera-length gloves, the choreography spoke of the waves that fueled Johannes Goldbach’s score. Sweeping arcs and balancés were everywhere. Arms started in a high 5th position and then dynamically broke apart like waves crashing, while boureés coasted on the ODC stage like water skimming the sand. 

State of Play Festival

State of Play
August 1st-4th, 2024
ODC Theater, San Francisco

Turning the calendar from July to August has much significance, often symbolizing the final weeks of summer vacation. At ODC Theater, the new month ushered in the State of Play Festival, a four-day artistic extravaganza featuring work from ten individual artists and ensembles. Co-presented by CounterPulse and curated by Chloë L. Zimberg and Maurya Kerr, this twelfth edition offered three categories: Risk-Takers, Curious Creators and Experimenters. I took in two shows from the first category – Paufve Dance’s Sisters on night one and SFDanceworks in Bryan Arias’ The Broken Glass on night two.

A world premiere ensemble piece, Artistic Director Randee Paufve’s Sisters takes its audience on a vulnerable, intimate journey.  Though we were seated for Sisters’ entire hour, the suite of vignettes (solos, duos, trios and full cast) felt like it was transporting the viewer from one space to another, each chapter conveying a different mood, quality and emotion. Narratively, the common thread sang, screamed and sobbed from the stage. As stated in the program materials, Sisters investigated “a woman’s right to choose” and the many different aspects of reproductive rights. The joy of motherhood. The medical realities and dismissals surrounding birth. The urge to be, or not be, a parent. And the loss of autonomy that women are facing today. 

Molley Levy and Madison McGain in 
Paufve's Sisters
Photo Hillary Goidell

Arms free in flight were suddenly clipped and bound. A group ritual variation felt forceful and defiant, the supported strength of kinship taking centerstage. Crawling, pleading and running motifs spoke of frustration, desperation and disbelief, while long embraces marked the comfort of togetherness. Jumping sequences mirrored the release of rage. With a percussive step touch foundation, one duet reflected the act of treading water, at least for me. The attempt to stay present and alive. And a brief Western-inspired episode posited the devolving of society into the ‘wild west.’  

Perhaps the most stunning and moving moments were found in Sisters' many picturesque tableaux. One dancer would initiate a movement, and that movement would prompt the others to physically react and respond. There was a poignant ripple effect at play. How the erosion of one right may lead to the erosion of others. How the experience of one affects the whole. What might be taken next?

At sixty minutes, I did find Sisters to be on the lengthy side, lagging a little in the middle of the dance. But there were a number of performers in the cast that moved so exquisitely that I couldn’t take my eyes off them, whether the dance felt long or not.

If I had one sentence to describe Bryan Arias’ The Broken Glass (2023), danced Friday evening by SFDanceworks, it would be this: a phenomenal piece, danced exceptionally by five extraordinary artists. That may seem like a blanket, complimentary sentence. But it’s not (and let’s be honest, I am going to say more than just that one phrase). The Broken Glass was great. It made you feel something, and that is what great art does. Your experience may not have been the same as the person next to you. You might have thought it was about one thing and a dozen other viewers may have had a dozen differing ideas. Your observations might not have been what the choreographer intended. But you felt something, and it was something profound. 

Emily Hansel (c) in Arias' The Broken Glass
Photo Valentina Reneff-Olson

As the work began, it was clear that masks were going to play a significant role. And for me, the masks, which re-appeared several times, prompted questions. What is hidden by a mask? Is it protective armor? How does it speak to loss and lone-ness? Does it provide a false or real sense of security? Over the next forty minutes, the quintet’s performance of Arias’ choreography kept those questions in my viewership lens.

The dancers’ loose, breezy, linen attire deliciously contrasted with the full throttle movement. There was suspension and release. Falling and rebounding. The mutuality of cantilevered partnering. Abandon. Charged dynamics. Outside forces exerting themselves on one’s reality. Off balance postures. Capoeira influences. 

Powerful choreographic repetition abounded. Dancers rose, and then were pushed down, or pushed away, over and over again. Bodies melted to the ground and were saved seconds before their heads hit the stage’s surface. Crumpling and catching; crumpling and catching. The repetition had that curious duality of emphasizing and anesthetizing at the same time. 

And the score – so amazing. Open cadenzas were everywhere – scalic and arpeggiated passages free of constraint, free of meter and free of dynamics – ready for the musician to unleash everything within them. The advanced press material shared this: “inspired by the rhythms of [Arias’] Puerto Rican heritage - the music of bomba and plena, boleros and other musical styles…”. That is certainly what rang through the ODC Theater space on Friday evening.