Monday, December 16, 2024

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - "The Christmas Ballet"

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
The Christmas Ballet
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San Francisco
December 13th, 2024

Friday night marked an important milestone in the Bay Area holiday dance calendar: the San Francisco opening of Smuin’s The Christmas Ballet. The company has been touring the famed production for the past few weeks, but landing at home in San Francisco, where it has been a mainstay for the last three decades, must feel particularly special. The revue-style program, created by Founder Michael Smuin, offers wide-ranging choreographic genres - like pointe, clogging, jazz, Irish step, contemporary – and equally varied festive musical selections. The Christmas Ballet has appeared on Pointe Magazine’s list of alternate holiday dance shows, and opening night’s dazzling offering indicates why. Together, Act I’s Classical Christmas and Act II’s Cool Christmas mirror the blend of tradition and newness that is the holiday season!

Artistic Director Amy Seiwert shared in her welcoming remarks that over the years, there have been 115 different dances crafted for The Christmas Ballet, and what that means for Smuin’s patrons is that no year is ever quite the same. Yes, there are pieces that often appear on the program, but they are joined by many other works, old and new, including three world premieres this year. For 2024, fifteen dances were choreographed by Michael Smuin, Seiwert contributed six, with the remainder created by talented artists in the Smuin Ballet family. 

Smuin in Seiwert's Dona Nobis Pacem
Photo Maximillian Tortorielo Photography

Favorite scenes peppered Act I. Zither Carol’s quiet peacefulness and delicate intricacy. Nicole Haskins’ Fantasia, with its playful exuberance and partnered Italian changement. The pedestrian elegance of Veni, Veni, Emmanuel; the sky-high lifts in For Unto Us a Child is Born; The Gloucestershire Wassail’s graceful beats and courtly demeanor. Haskins’ Joy to the World brings epic fanfare, every move that the company made felt a punctuation of the brass instruments in the score. New moments greeted the audience as well. Framed by a banner of snowflakes, the debut of Seiwert’s Dona Nobis Pacem gave tones and qualities of a gentle snowfall; swirling arms and vignette changes evoking a light flurry.

AL Abraham in Wall's Last Christmas
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello Photography

Onto Act II’s Cool Christmas. Standouts included Rex Wheeler’s Silver Bells, a nostalgic, cozy romp, complete with swinging postures resembling merry bells. And Seiwert’s duet River with its stunning spins that seem to defy the laws of gravity and physics. Company artist Brennan Wall choreographed the second world premiere on the bill, Last Christmas, to the 1984 Wham hit recording. Primarily a solo, performed superbly Friday night by AL Abraham, it oozed an eighties vibe. Old school jazz was everywhere – pas de boureés leading into parallel turns, dive jumps, fouettés and axel spins. Most of the dancer pairings in The Christmas Ballet tend to be heteronormative, but Wheeler’s Someday Soon (premiere) brought another story to the stage. The duet for two women (Gabrielle Collins and Julia Gundzik) conveyed a narrative of yearning, longing, hoping and eventually, the realization of love and affection. It was beautiful.

Any commentary on The Christmas Ballet must acknowledge the incredible feat that Smuin’s artists accomplish with every performance. They navigate close to thirty different dances! The footwear changes alone throughout the production (ballet flats plus pointe, character, jazz, saddle and tap shoes) are absolutely astounding.


Monday, December 09, 2024

San Francisco Ballet - Nutcracker

San Francisco Ballet
Nutcracker
December 7th, 2024
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco

Bountiful merriment poured into the War Memorial Opera House on Saturday afternoon for the first matinee performance of San Francisco Ballet’s Nutcracker. It was hard to imagine that just days earlier, 2024’s Nutcracker run was uncertain. Contract negotiations were ongoing, and it wasn’t until mid-week that the fate of the beloved Bay Area tradition was clear. Luckily, an agreement was reached! And so, the Stahlbaum’s house was awash with revelry, the mice and the soldiers battled, the snowstorm raged on and the Sugar Plum Fairy welcomed Clara and her magical Nutcracker Prince to another realm. The twentieth anniversary of the company’s current Nutcracker, choreographed by former Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson, is up and running until December 29th!

San Francisco Ballet in Tomasson's Nutcracker
© San Francisco Ballet
Photo Lindsey Rallo

Much of the narrative action unfolds in the ballet’s first half - Clara receives her treasured Nutcracker from Drosselmeyer; the Nutcracker (and the entire scene) transforms and grows; characters battle; and then the pair journey by carriage through a wintry forest. The clash between the soldiers and the mice tends to drag in many productions, but here Tomasson has injected such forward momentum and humor that the segment goes by at a brisk pace. Standout performances from Act I certainly include Carmela Mayo’s dancing doll. The doll may be life size, but it is still a doll, and so mechanized motions and off-balance leanings should be aplenty. Often, the doll solo doesn’t quite capture that spirit, but Mayo was superb, especially in recruiting her epaulement. Former longtime soloist Hansuke Yamamoto made a dazzling debut as Drosselmeyer! Equally impressive were Esteban Hernández as the Nutcracker Prince, Frances Chung as the Queen of the Snow and Cavan Conley as her King. The dance architecture for the snowflake sequence was unwavering; super clean as the corps de ballet shifted from one tableau to another. Turns in low attitude and low coupé were particularly delicate and soft, just like falling snow.

Jennifer Stahl’s Sugar Plum Fairy reigns over Act II with its series of variations and enchaînements. And again, with an eye towards the dance architecture and choreographic construction, it’s of note that most of the featured dances in this Nutcracker are for an odd number of performers. Spanish is a pas de cinq; Arabian, French and Russian are trios and Chinese is a solo, accompanied by students from SFB’s school. So many more interesting formations and choreographic possibilities occur because of these unique groupings. Hernández was joined by Katherine Barkman for the grand pas de deux, and the pairing was positively sublime. Together, every movement and transition was so precise yet flowing and elegant at the same time. Their energy was fervent. Hernández’ deep plié and soaring ballon were the epitome of strength and grace, which Barkman matched with her exquisite balances and fouettés.


San Francisco Ballet in Tomasson's Nutcracker
© San Francisco Ballet
Photo Lindsey Rallo


Monday, December 02, 2024

Pilobolus

Cal Performances presents
Pilobolus
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley
Nov 30th, 2024

Moving from one month to the next is more than just turning the page on a calendar. Consider, instead, the opportunities. A chance to embrace something new. A moment to reflect on what just past. Allowing oneself to truly live and abide in the gift of liminal space. 

This past weekend, as time spanned November and December, Cal Performances presented Pilobolus, a company whose work is all about the notion of change and the in-between. Choreography and visuals take the viewer down an initial path, and then the scene quickly morphs into something phenomenally unexpected. Formed out of Dartmouth College in 1971, the troupe blends acrobatics, artistry and contemporary movement while simultaneously pushing the boundaries of shape, posture and gravity. They are currently traveling with their re:CREATION tour, though due to an injury earlier in the day, the program had to pivot on Saturday night. 

Of the four short works performed, first up was Bloodlines, an intricate due that revealed the simple power of repetition. While red confetti dripped from the rafters downstage left, dynamically and tonally varied movements unfolded: centrifugal spinning, arabesque turns, pedestrian walking and one mechanical sequence that read like the internal gears of a watch. Continuous and repeating, the motions accumulated in energy and intensity, creating a truly hypnotic atmosphere.

As dancers entered the space from either sides of the stage costumed in bright yellow unitards and baggy boxing shorts, it was evident we were in for something completely different with Walklyndon. And it was a terrific, humorous affair! With each new encounter/meeting, the cast ran into and leapt over each other, played kids’ games, climbed on one another and walked on their hands. Walklyndon had no score other than the ensemble’s own vocal sounds and body percussion, and it didn’t need one. It was a masterclass in reacting to the moment, to stimuli and to a changeable environment. Such fun!

Pilobolus in Transformation
Photo John Kane

Next up was the ingenious Transformation, my favorite work of the evening. Aptly titled, transformation was everywhere in this short duet between a company artist and a large hand. The pas de deux occurred behind a screen, setting both in shadow. At first, the interactions between the two were delicate, eventually crescendo-ing to more substantive orchestrations. The hand descended over her body, seemingly grasping her head. It turned her into a very believable pup shape, then back into a woman. The pair clasped hands, and the giant palm shifted to reveal another human being. A final animal silhouette emerged as Transformation came to a close: a plucky mule.

With a bolt of light and a loud thunderous roar, Symbiosis was off to a dramatic start, and the drama would persist throughout the duet. Symbiosis was sensual. It was primal. But it wasn’t just those things. Like all Pilobolus’ works, it was layered with multiple textures, qualities and ideas. Two performers would journey into a shape, form the shape (whether recognizable or more abstract) and then it would dissolve. Over and over, crafting unbelievable feats of physicality. Yet the most mesmerizing part was how every single movement was the epitome of elegance, control and grace. 


Pilobolus in Symbiosis
Photo Bridgid Pierce


Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Biography Corner 2024

Whether enthusiast or professional, scholar or die-hard fan, those steeped in the dance world likely have plenty of dance biographies and topical tomes. The cast is often very familiar though occasionally you meet someone new. Of my recent three reads, two of them delved into the well-known, and, excitedly, one tackled a dancer/choreographer that was new to me. 


First up – Rupert Christiansen’s Diaghilev’s Empire: How the Ballet Russes Enthralled the World (2022). It is impossible to ignore the contributions that Diaghilev, the Ballet Russes, Nijinsky, Massine, (and others of the time) made to ballet and its history. Though truthfully, this period hasn’t grabbed my interest all that much over the years. Having said that, Christiansen’s book is very good, and well worth the read even if the Ballet Russes isn’t your thing. It’s incredibly well-researched, thorough, and moves along at a great pace. And a comment he made in the preface grabbed me right from the get-go, and I’m sure it will for other readers as well. Paraphrasing here, he shares with the audience that he’s not trying to write a dissertation, nor converse with other published materials. Instead, he is seeking to recount a specific history and in doing so, maybe uncover why folks are pulled toward this beautiful, physical performing art. 

Over Diaghilev’s Empire’s nine chapters, there is much to enjoy. One of my favorite elements throughout the book, is Christiansen’s attention to the women of this story. Anna Pavlova, Tamara Karsavina, and many more – he demonstrates and notes their significance in this narrative, which other accounts skim over or omit altogether. Second, he also successfully and intriguingly unlocks the accomplishments, the personalities and character traits of the various players. The reader learns as they dive into Diaghilev’s Empire which individuals were never satisfied, who was a tinker-er, who was vengeful and who was obsessed with conflict and (off-stage) drama. While the attention to historical detail and chronological sojourn is beyond compare, Christiansen succeeds in peppering his writing with clever, humorous anecdotes – one ballerina’s penchant for hot champagne made me laugh out loud. The reader learns of the various productions mounted during this era, the collaborations with famed composers of the time, the development of new choreographic forms and structures and how the makeup of the ballet audience changed through the decades. And as Christiansen closes out his exploration of Diaghilev’s Empire, the lineage from the Ballet Russes to mid/late twentieth century is well underway, with George Balanchine, Lincoln Kirstein, Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo (and more!) arriving on the scene. 

As I combed through Russ Tamblyn’s Dancing on the Edge, a 2024 publication by Blackstone Publishing, I found myself fascinated with the difference between a memoir and an autobiography. Looking up the distinction between the two terms, memoirs give attention to particular eras or arcs in one’s life while autobiographies reach wider and broader in scope. While that does draw some distinction, the space between the two feels undeniably tenuous. After reading Dancing on the Edge, I feel like it could be billed as either genre. 


A commentary on the life and work of artist Russ Tamblyn, the book takes a deep dive into a talented, complicated and holistic person. From Hollywood musicals, where he would become a beloved dance lead - Riff in West Side Story and Gideon in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers – to his personal orbit of the famous (and infamous) to his penchant for dramatic non-dancing roles. Via Tamblyn’s intoxicating prose, the reader learns of the twists and turns his life and career would navigate, including finding new creative pathways and outlets, which themselves would lead to considerable changes in scenery. Themes and throughlines emerge in the book’s sixteen chapters, like experimenting with the unknown, the primal need for artistic immersion and embracing new sides of the self. 

As a lifelong fan of the big dance musical, I found the first third of Dancing on the Edge to be the most engrossing - all the backstage intrigue and behind the scenes stories that only someone who was there can impart. And equally potent were the moments of reflection. One that particularly resonated with this reader was when the author talked about confronting the misogynistic, violent story of Brides


And with the third biography, Ruth Page: The Woman in the Work by Joellen A. Meglin and published by Oxford University Press in 2022, I encountered someone new to me. Based on her prolific career in 1900s American ballet (specifically in the dance hub of Chicago), it seems like I should have come across Page before, but honestly I hadn’t. Over 430 pages and 16 chapters (the endnotes themselves are almost 100 pages), Meglin more than remedied that by capturing many facets of this integral, powerhouse dance artist. 

Meglin’s dissertation impressively recounted Page’s life and career: her notable colleagues and collaborators; her interest in different movement genres; the influence of jazz music on her work; the social and political realities of the times and their effect on her creative endeavors and performing career; her desire to upend artistic norms and conventions; the many dance companies and institutions that she helmed in Chicago; her major choreographic pursuits. A favorite line in chapter six captures her immersive-ness, “Page’s prime weakness lay in overcommitting her energies, whether by choice or necessity…” (p. 154). 

Like most academic work, the book is very thorough and detailed, and if that’s the kind of writing that speaks to you, this book is for you. For me, it’s quite dense. I feel like much of the discourse about Page and the artists in her world, while fascinating, could have been abridged significantly.

Saturday, November 02, 2024

"Carnival of the Animals"

Stanford Live presents
Carnival of the Animals
A SOZO Production
Bing Concert Hall, Stanford
October 27th, 2024

Making my way to Stanford last weekend for SOZO Production’s Carnival of the Animals, I didn’t know what to expect. On purpose, I had read very little about the show, but I was privy to a few details. First, it was a response to the hideous January 6, 2021 insurrection. Second, it was an interdisciplinary experience performed by legendary artists. And last, the musical source material was Camille Saint-Saëns’ 1886 fantasia, Carnival of the Animals. My curiosity stemmed from the fact that as a classical trained musician, I know that Saint-Saëns famously regarded his fourteen-chapter suite as rather light fare - a fun, entertaining, even whimsical, composition. How was that going to work as a frame or container for such serious and downright frightening subject matter?

Saying it worked is indeed an understatement. What transpired over one hour at Bing Concert Hall was a powerful, post-modern, political concerto of movement, music and spoken word. Episodes of dance and evocative text would take the stage, and then the work would return to two pianists and two string players for its musical ritornello. Created and written by Marc Bamuthi Joseph, choreographed by Francesca Harper and performed by Bamuthi Joseph and Wendy Whelan, the piece asked its audience to consider January 6th as a carnival of animals. To think about that horrific day through a lens of tents, creatures, jungles and zoos. The performance was miraculous. And it completely succeeded in re-contextualizing Saint-Saëns for me. With layers, textures and shocking audio clips from that day, the music completely transformed into something haunting, sinister and at times, nefarious. The score was an active cast member, a living organism, rather than a static entity written over one hundred years ago. If you have the opportunity to see this SOZO Production, go. Immediately. 

With poetic spoken word that pierced the consciousness and soul, Bamuthi Joseph was utterly transcendent. Vulnerable, real, even occasionally humorous, it was impossible not to be affected and changed by his words. The phrase ‘that’s a lie’ kept returning throughout the script, jokingly at first, but in due course, somber and penetrating. 

Carnival of the Animals
Photo Jamie Lyons

Whelan’s movement phrases evoked the natural world at every turn – avian arms, double attitude gazelle leaps, a protruding gestural beak. Much of her gait featured coordinating, rather than oppositional motion, common of many different animals. And there was one choreographic chapter that deserves special mention. Midway through Carnival of the Animals, Whelan changed into a long, black, floor-length gown. With all the aspects of a funeral dirge, she cycled through the space, mesmerizing the viewer with equal parts specificity and grief. A mourning dance for everything that died on that day.


Tuesday, October 29, 2024

RAWdance 20th Anniversary Home Season

RAWdance's Stacey Yuen and Juliann Witt
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello Photography

RAWdance
20th Anniversary Home Season
ODC Theater, San Francisco
October 26th, 2024

Discerning choreographic intention takes practice. And even with a lot of practice, it’s still pretty tough. Sometimes it’s obvious what a dance is about – whether it be from program notes, onstage remarks or steeped in the history of the piece. But more often than not, it’s a bit of a guessing game. Viewers weighing movement choices, score and other theatrical elements in an effort to solve the artistic puzzle at hand. This process also begs a deeper question, does it matter whether you figure out what the dancemaker intended? To some, I’m sure it matters a great deal and for a variety of reasons. Though for this audience member, I’m not sure it does. When I comment on a work, I’m sharing how I experienced a particular dance in that moment in time. While that may match the choreographic intent, it may not.  

These were the questions percolating as I took in the Saturday evening performance of RAWdance’s 20th Anniversary Home Season at ODC Theater. The collection of world premieres joined two works by co-Artistic Directors Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith with two pieces created by RAWdance collaborators. The program, Smith shared, was designed to cast a gaze on the future of the company, and it looks like the years ahead are going to be filled with joy and innovation.

Now back to choreographic intention. Social Circle, created by Rein and Smith, looked to etiquette. From the courtly gestures to careful gaits to delicate footwork, the hoop-skirted and crinoline-clad quartet were the picture of grace and elegance. The soundscore sang with instructions on how to comport oneself, dos and don’ts, and the foundational patterns of various dances. But as the piece wore on, it became clear that Social Circle wasn’t about following norms, rules and conventions, rather it battled against constraints and injected newness into a rigid system. Movements began to shift off-balance. Tempo increased from demure walking to full-out running. Heads and loose flinging hair swung back and forth. The upper body revolted as fully as was possible. 

One aspect of the score provided an additional narrative layer. Broken chords certainly repeated on a loop, although they alluded to a specific compositional format: an Alberti bass line. This type of structure, famed in eighteenth century classical music, uses broken chords to create fluidity. But in addition, it introduces a home anchor note, while allowing the other notes of the chord to shift and change. Consistency and experimentation present in the same moment – a perfect sound match for Social Circle. The quartet was also a great opener for the celebratory evening, though it went on a little long.

Refer choreographed and performed by company artists Kelly Del Rosario and Erin Yen was all about fun, camaraderie and entertainment. A non-contentious dance battle, b-boying, b-girling and breaking took center stage. Each had a turn showcasing their own robotic, angular and occasionally inverted movement, but they were also learning and copying each other. It was a dynamic, physical conversation and it was just terrific. 

Up next was Good Grief, a quartet from Nick Wagner and Stacey Yuen that began with a decidedly sacred, ritualistic tone. Dressed in drapey beige costuming, long embraces, bows and grounded rolls and spins imbued the early phrase material. Dancers leaned into each other and contracted in reaction to stimuli and impulses. Arms moved in a swinging pattern, only to be interrupted by body percussion. Unison played a huge role, though canon made an appearance as well. And the end of the work featured the addition of water, which again felt both ritualistic and cleansing. Good Grief was enjoyable and well-executed, though I don’t know if it defined itself enough from other modern dance compositions, at least for this viewer.

Off to a party-filled excursion with Rein and Smith’s second premiere, Escape, a group work for five set to a beachy soundscore complete with seagulls. Slowly, methodically and choreographically, the cast broke out of their business attire to reveal vacation leisurewear. As each shed their day-to-day skin, they were lifted into the air, seemingly taking flight away from the grind. A poolside quintet unfolded, full of recognizable gestures, like cleaning sunglasses. Beach towels evolved into active dance partners, facilitating sliding and spinning. But Escape wasn’t all party party. A tender mirroring sequence spoke to ‘being seen.’ One solo felt steeped in solitude and loneliness. And a children’s copying game, which began in fun, took a mean, rather nefarious turn. 

Escape was a work of Dance Theater, combining movement, scenework, props, costumes and sound. And because of that lens, it felt like it needed a bigger, or maybe just different, venue than the ODC Theater. I could imagine a big open space: piles of sand everywhere, deck chairs for the audience, bird-like figures suspended from the ceiling. I hope the company continues developing Escape - it has good bones.



Sunday, October 13, 2024

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 1

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 1
Cowell Theater at Fort Mason, San Francisco
October 11th, 2024

A stage awash in glowing gold. Song lyrics that reference “October’s able skies.” Dance architecture that conjured falling, scattering leaves. If ever there was a program that screamed Autumn, it is Smuin Ballet’s 2024 edition of Dance Series 1. Under the Artistic Direction of Amy Seiwert, the company glided into Fort Mason’s Cowell Theater on Friday night to open the San Francisco leg of their recent Bay Area tour. Before a packed house, the troupe offered a dynamic triple bill of contemporary ballet: the world premiere of Jennifer Archibald’s ByCHANCE, the company debut of Matthew Neenan’s The Last Glass (2010) and a re-engagement with Seiwert’s 2019 Renaissance. While I had my favorite amongst the three works, there is no denying that the entire program was quite dazzling. And the company, some of whom danced in all three pieces, looked totally on top of their game. A terrific start to a new season!

Smuin Ballet in Archibald's ByCHANCE
Photo Chris Hardy


In her welcoming remarks, Seiwert shared that Archibald’s ByCHANCE (which was created on the Smuin artists) was inspired by the chance encounters that we experience throughout life. As the ensemble work for eight unfolded, that throughline was definitely at play. Dancers entered and exited the space, meeting center stage for a conversation, albeit one without words. Mirroring human existence, some of those conversations were long, others short. Some were casual, others passionate. Some interactions were joyful, others melancholic. Some very temporary, others much more permanent. 

Choreographically, intense speed contrasted with moments of unrestrained quiet. Lifts soared through the air. Arms undulated and gestural sequences brought a sharp, staccato articulation to the table. Phrases flowed effortlessly from one to another, with an almost sculptural-like, fluid motion. 

While it may not have been the choreographic intent, I also saw something deeply organic and basal running through ByCHANCE. Reminiscent of the natural world in tone. Dancers cascaded in and out of the wings like whirling leaves. At other times, it seemed like we were peeking under a microscope at cells adhering together to form something new, only for that new entity to dissolve. Those large group pictures manifested, then broke apart, over and over again. It was mesmerizing and provided an unexpected textural layer to the work.

My first impression of Neenan’s The Last Glass was a wild party with an even wilder guest list. The hopeful ingenue. A tortured Elizabethan heroine. Flirty Moulin Rouge dancers. A couple brimming with equal parts volatility and passion. And in each of the subsequent solos, duets, trios and group sequences, all set to a score by Beirut, each guest had ample opportunity to reveal their persona. Neenan’s choreographic syntax similarly ran the gamut from classical petit allegro to percussive variations to jazzy barrel rolls and axles. With a nod to yoga practices, an accumulation phrase flowed breath to movement. Social line dances were aplenty; there was even a tipsy pseudo-limbo. If there had been additional theatrical elements (like props or text, for example), I might have categorized The Last Glass as Dance Theatre. But the genre didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the entire cast of ten was all in from lights up to final blackout and it was a party that you wanted an invite to. 

Smuin Ballet in Seiwert's Renaissance
Photo Chris Hardy

As its title suggests, Seiwert’s Renaissance is of another time. It feels otherworldly, prayerful, and while it certainly has dynamic range, the ballet elicits an undeniably peaceful and serene tone. Scored by the Kitka Women’s Vocal Ensemble, the largest group piece of the evening had much to convey. But the strongest element was indeed the power of a collective working together. Unison chapters abounded. Hands were clasped together in tender support. Balances and partnering were imbued with a mutuality where all parties had to commit with the same force and attention. Renaissance has its fair share of serious, somber moments, but instead of abiding solely in that emotion, it counters with significant, palpable joy. Arms and legs reached to the heavens and to other souls on stage. Floaty leaps provided a sense of lightness and hope. Mid-way through the work, a soloist (Tess Lane at this performance) appears on the scene. As the only dancer costumed differently, there is a bit of a ‘chosen one’, Rite of Spring comparison that happens. But unlike Rite of Spring, which is always gruesome to me, here that character feels protected and cherished by the kinship of her tribe. I’ve loved Renaissance since I first saw it, and once again, it was my favorite dance of the night.

Dance Series 1 runs in San Francisco at the Cowell Theater until October 20th.

 

Monday, August 19, 2024

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.


Wednesday, August 14, 2024

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. 


Wednesday, August 07, 2024

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. 


 

Saturday, July 27, 2024

San Francisco Ballet - "Starry Nights"

"Starry Nights" at Stanford Live
Photo © Reneff-Olson Productions

San Francisco Ballet and Stanford Live present
“Starry Nights”
Frost Amphitheater, Stanford
July 26th, 2024

San Francisco Ballet’s outdoor, summertime performance has been a Bay Area tradition for quite some time – a special opportunity to catch a renowned dance company outside of their regular season and in a different theatrical space. For years, this event was included in the long running Stern Grove Festival, the phenomenal, and free (!), Sunday concert series that runs in SF between June and August. But in recent summers, SFB has been on the move, venturing a bit further south with their signature repertory of classical and contemporary dance alike. And while this isn’t their first year at Stanford’s Frost Amphitheater, I was new to this Peninsula stage and to what has become their “Starry Nights” program. It was a dazzling evening. Perfect weather. Brilliant artists. A solid program (save a few inorganic moments) blending beloved, familiar works with SFB premieres. The venue was great, though I did miss the undeniable community spirit and excitement of those Sunday afternoons in the Grove.

Swan Lake was an ideal start to the evening, a beloved classic to be sure. And focusing on Act II was a smart choice with all its iconic moments. There was much to marvel at. A sense of complex unrequited-ness between Odette (Sasha De Sola) and Siegfried (Aaron Robison) bookends the Act. The otherworldly pas de deux transforms Odette into a cascading bird with its weightless, supported lifts. And her series of diagonal en dedans turns (commonly referred to as ‘lame duck’ turns) was clever and succinct.

San Francisco Ballet in 
Tomasson's Swan Lake
Photo Lindsay Thomas


But the real stars of Swan Lake’s second Act are the corps de ballet, including the featured cygnets and maidens. And shine they did - the entire flock. The footwork of the famed cygnets variation was perfectly in sync Friday night, though the unison head motions proved challenging. Rebecca Blenkinsop and Jacey Gailliard were some of the best Swan Maidens I’ve seen, with long, exquisite lines and lighter than air saut de chat.  

SFB audiences know Swan Lake and specifically, they know this Swan Lake, by former Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson (after Lev Ivanov), frequently part of the regular season since its premiere in 2009. I get it. It’s a beautiful production and a widely popular ballet. Perhaps it’s just my viewership lens that’s become saturated, but I look forward to different perspectives at some point in the future. 

Three Preludes was up next, choreographed in 1969 by Ben Stevenson, who served as Artistic Director of Houston Ballet for nearly thirty years. Not only was it an SFB premiere, but also the standout piece of the night. A duet set to three Sergei Rachmaninoff compositions, the work presents a dramatic and touching relationship arc; each musical prelude noting a different life chapter. A ballet barre stood center stage. Jasmine Jimison and Harrison James began cycling through classroom barre exercises. Right from the start, Stevenson had created a sense of place and a shared understanding. From there, the viewer watched as that common reality transcended into other realms of human connection. How simple port de bras became a tender invitation. The second episode was filled with intoxicating passion – inverted attitude poses; swift, sliding turns and a crumpled fish dive – while the third was filled with jubilant, joyful sweeping lifts. Jimison and James were spectacular throughout, especially in the moment where a standing slide across the barre mimicked the glissando in the score.

A trio of work by Hans van Manen rounded out the “Starry Nights” program, two pieces which might be familiar to SFB fans and one company premiere. While all three ballets were very different, one could see some stylistic throughlines first introduced in Variations for Two Couples – contemporary sensibility, a delicate mixture of modality and nothing fussy nor ostentatious. Austere and angular positions met whimsical head motions. Attention to clarity was the heart of every movement. These qualities continued with Solo (which is actually a trio for three men), with an added dose of fast, continual motion. Solo offers a constant stream of movement, each dancer taking the stage for their phrase material and then signaling to the next that it is their turn. It’s a perfect reflection of Bach’s Baroque compositions. Musical subjects, answers, countersubjects. There’s play. Camaraderie. It’s like a vibrant tennis game of dance and was another highlight of the program. 

I was intrigued with the title of the final van Manen dance, 5 Tango’s, because of the placement of the possessive noun. Was the ballet going to comment on ownership? Was there going to be intense passion or even jealous rage? But as the ensemble work unfolded, it didn’t really go to those places for me. In fact, staying pretty slow-moving for the most part. Again, the mixture of modalities was strong and present. The flexion of contemporary dance fusing with tango’s bent knees and strong embrace. And Esteban Hernández’ solo added fire to the scene. But 5 Tango’s seemed more like an opening ballet than a finale. 

There was also a bit of confusion surrounding when the event was over, even though the program order was clearly posted at the entrance to the amphitheater. Conductor Ming Luke and the San Francisco Ballet Orchestra took their much-deserved bow in the middle of the program (the last two works danced to recorded music). Solo was still to come, then a second intermission and finally, 5 Tango’s. As mentioned, Solo has a real finale feel to it, so when it concluded, and the bright ‘house’ lights came on coupled with the orchestra packing up, it seemed like the program was finished. I can’t speak for every section in the space, but many patrons around me clearly went home and never saw the last offering.  

"Starry Nights" at Frost Amphitheater
Photo Chris Hardy



 

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

SF Playhouse - Evita

Evita
San Francisco Playhouse, San Francisco
July 16th, 2024

Sophia Alawi and the cast of Evita
Photo Jessica Palopoli

I’ve never seen Evita live, but of course am familiar with its true story. Set in Argentina during the first half of the twentieth century, the musical follows the circuitous and storied life of Eva (Evita) Duarte Perón, who becomes the wife of equally controversial, and often brutal, Juan Perón, twice Argentina’s President. Several throughlines weave through the show’s two Acts. Power. Political upheaval. Penetrating personas. The potency of charisma. And the negative, sometimes catastrophic, consequences of idol-worship. Conceived in the 1970s by iconic musical theatre duo Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, the show won the 1980 Tony Award for Best Musical and was adapted to the screen in 1996, starring Madonna, Antonio Banderas and Jonathan Pryce. The intoxicating tale is currently in the middle of its run at San Francisco Playhouse, directed by Bill English with Dave Dobrusky‘s musical direction and Nicole Helfer’s choreography  – it’s onstage until September 4th.

This production had a lot going for it (great character development, Abra Berman’s stunning costume design); I really enjoyed the entire evening. Though as a dance critic, I was mostly focused on Evita’s physicality. And the dancing was indeed strong. Both Helfer’s choreography, as well as the interpretation/execution by the company artists, was on point. Tango took center stage in the majority of dance sequences: close embraces, purposefully bent knees, tenacious on beat marching. There were stretchy, elastic extensions of the leg, syncopated rhythms and sharp directional changes. From duets to large group ensembles, the audience was treated to the range of what tango has to offer. While Helfer definitely deserves kudos for her creativity and attention to authenticity, there are two other facets of her work that also impressed. In much of the choreography, there were hints and injections of the early twentieth century modernists, internationally renowned creators who were developing their individual styles in the same era as this story. Martha Graham contractions made an appearance, as did José Limón arm pulses. This mixture of modalities not only provided a deep textural layer but also a surprising historical nod. The second is that Helfer got strong movement quality from everyone – singers and dancers alike. Too often, choreographers separate the ensemble and have one group stand, while the others move. Of course, there are always more difficult, technical phrases that should be performed by trained dancers (and they were here), but it looks contrived and frankly, a little fake, when half the cast just stops and watches. Brava to Helfer for creating a true community in the choreography!  

Through-sung musicals (without spoken scenework) can be tricky, and Lloyd Webber/Rice roles famously (or infamously, depending on who you ask) have their fair share of wide, vast vocal ranges. In a single song, the vocalist can be asked for super high notes and incredibly low ones. Evita is no exception and for the most part, it was handled well. Alex Rodriguez as Che was exceptionally good (we also got to see his significant dance chops in Act II), as was Sophia Alawi in the titular role. The ensemble vocal sections were solid and Chanel Tilghman’s turn as Perón’s mistress singing “Another Suitcase in Another Hall” was the vocal highlight of the evening for me. 



Monday, June 17, 2024

RAWdance - Yerba Buena Gardens Festival

RAWdance: Drawing on a Decade
Yerba Buena Gardens Festival, San Francisco
June 15th, 2024

Summer weather in San Francisco is famously unpredictable. And yet, every time I’ve attended a dance event at the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival, it’s been beautiful. The weather gods seem to consistently smile down on this family-friendly, free collection of music, movement and multi-discipline performance, and this past weekend was no exception.

Saturday midday brought RAWdance back to YBGF, a staple participant on the downtown esplanade for the past ten years. For 2024, the remarkable bi-coastal company, under the co-Artistic Direction of Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith, offered an afternoon retrospective – three penetrating, site-specific works from past festivals entitled, Drawing on a Decade. While each was distinct, a throughline emerged as the day went on: a deep reflection of the dance’s chosen title.

RAWdance in Circuit
Photo Amal Bisharat

Circuit (2019) opened the program on the steps adjacent to the Leroy King Carousel, a work for six performers that aptly lived into its title. From a completely literal perspective, the piece was certainly a circuit of varied choreographic material. Clad in denim shirts, jeans and tomato-red sneakers, the cast was ferocious as they marched between the different steps. Subsequent partnering sequences not only introduced a soothing fluidity to the vista, but also explored boundaries as bodies were cantilevered out into space. We saw levels changing on a levelled structure. Airy extensions met grounded feet. And there was a fascinating play on texture as smooth, circular rolling phrases came up against the architectural Brutalism of the staircase. 

From a more conceptual perspective, the presence of an actual gym-like circuit was undeniable. A yoga inspired progression. Stretching postures that you find in a barre class. Lunging stadiums up the steps. And then, bookending the dance was a brilliant embodiment of 1980s step aerobics, but step aerobics on a deliciously heady artistic trip.

I saw Requiem when it first premiered in 2017, and its powerful, emotional spirit abides in 2024’s reimagined version. The word requiem has a number of definitions, one being a work of remembrance. And this is definitely a work of remembrance, composed after the 2016 Pulse nightclub massacre in Florida. Rather than focusing on that night’s horrific violence and hatred, the dance takes on the act of remembering through an emotional movement poem. Its tone is, of course, sober, serious and somber, powerfully honoring the lost and mining the reality of collective grief.

Set in YBGF’s East Gardens, and blending several theatrical devices, Requiem opens with couples leaning on each other; embracing and comforting with tender, tactile intention. And then, the piece takes flight. Arms and wrists pulsate like wings. Limbs suspend in the air before floating to the earth. Billowy arabesque jumps abound. As do supported, lifted positions, like a soul was flying. It’s a dance that you must see if you get the chance. 

Last stop was the Terrace, overlooking the MLK Memorial and waterfall for 2018’s Slipstream (with additional material from 2023). Being in front of a water feature was an ideal site for a work whose title refers to water currents and to assisting forces. Created for the full RAWdance ensemble, Slipstream put together a number of the company’s signature movements: long lines, flying motions, spirals, cantilevered lifts, picturesque vignettes. Though there were some surprise sequences too, including a courtly social dance phrase. The company was costumed in bright white, and on Saturday afternoon, there was an added visual of white seagulls flying around and amid the dancers. At times, the birds came pretty close to the performers, and it is a testament to everyone’s intense focus that no one even remotely flinched! Slipstream’s finale was exuberant, buoyant and full of motion – the cast, so joyful. In fact, any commentary on this performance has to include a shout out to RAWdance’s extraordinary company members. Drawing on a Decade had the group performing three totally unique works with different costuming, different locations, different qualities, different moods. And they nailed it. To say, it was an impressive feat doesn’t quite feel sufficient. But it was.  


Monday, May 20, 2024

Diablo Ballet

Diablo Ballet
Lesher Center for the Arts, Walnut Creek
May 18th, 2024 (matinee)

This past weekend at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek, Diablo Ballet concluded its historic thirtieth season. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Diablo Ballet live and in person, and Saturday’s matinee was a lovely way to get reacquainted. The performance was delightful, a triple bill marrying a work from the 1980s, a 2016 composition and a world premiere. The company roster has changed quite a bit over the last few years and this current cohort is looking very strong indeed.

The program’s first half was all about tone and mood, beginning with the pas de deux from Gerald Arpino’s Light Rain, a striking work made for Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet in 1981. As one watches the duet, danced on Saturday afternoon by Lizzie Devanney and Luis Gonzalez, adjectives flood the mind. Sensual, hypnotizing, ferocious, intimate. Not surprisingly, it is absolutely packed with extreme movements, extensions and shapes. Ninety-degree flexion of the hands. Splits. Pencheé. A back lay out with accompanying kicks. Torso contractions. And of course, the final flying pose. In this partnered sequence, as well as other sections of the larger ballet, it has always struck me how long the female lead stays on pointe without a break. It’s astonishing and quite a feat. I so look forward to the day when the entire Light Rain is in Diablo’s repertoire. If their treatment of its pas de deux is any indication, it will be great!

4 in the Morning (An Entertainment) is Val Caniparoli choreography at its best. Created for Amy Seiwert’s Imagery back in 2016, the whimsical, multi-episodic romp charts a four-hour course of time (understandably sped up). Each short chapter opens with a digital clock reading high on the curtain’s corner, indicating where we find ourselves on the journey between midnight and four am. As the sections unfolded, it was anyone’s guess as to where the movement might reside. The scene might be stuffy and courtly. Phrase material could be mischievous and bold. Or cheeky, quick and unapologetic. My favorite was a humorous Celtic solo where a kilt costume piece transformed into a participant in the dance. The entire chamber ensemble (eight dancers) could be onstage, or it might be a duo, trio or quartet. 4 in the Morning was not only cleverly unpredictable, but totally entertaining (as the title aptly relays) and by far, the highlight of Saturday’s triple bill. 


Diablo Ballet in Caniparoli's 4 in the Morning (An Entertainment)
Photo Tue Nam Tom

The score, Façade by William Walton, was an ideal match because, like the capricious choreography, it too was full of surprises. At times, a sea shanty sang through the air; next , a British pub song in 6/8 time; then, undeniably, musical theater. But it was Susan Roemer’s costume design that really sealed the deal. The women were clad in slinky, ivory slip dresses while the men wore boxers, tank tops and socks, complete with old-fashioned sock garters. It felt very European in look, like we could have been watching Tanztheater Wuppertal, Nederlands Dans Theater or Cabaret. Funnily enough a production of Cabaret goes up at the Lesher Center in a week. With this nighttime attire and the timeframe of the piece, I wondered, were we watching a dream or reality?

If the first part of the program was all atmospheric feels, the second half was certainly all narrative. Enter choreographer Brian Enos’ new take on the mysterious Firebird. A one-act story, The Firebird has all the right elements. Royalty, a forest setting, mythical birds, an evil orchestrator, a benevolent matriarch and a love story. There’s fantasy, intrigue, forgiveness and super-hero, save-the-day moments. Props were symbolic and functional. Dramatically charged plot points were revealed. What more could one want from a narrative ballet? I’m not usually a fan of reading synopses or program notes, but here it was super smart to have a brief overview of a ‘not quite as well-known’ tale.

Enos’ choreography for the Firebird character (danced by Jackie McConnell) was terrific. Fast, sparkling, fluttering footwork – boureés, emboîté turns and much more. The finale unison sequence was also very well done with full out dancing from every member of the cast (all eighteen!). And partnering variations were solid, save some awkward transitions. One act narratives are tough – they just are. Trying to tell so much story in a short time is a challenge and then adding the real estate of a smaller stage presents another obstacle. But Enos and the Diablo Ballet artists faced those challenges head on. I think The Firebird is going to percolate well in the company’s rep over the next little while.   

 

Sunday, May 05, 2024

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 2

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 2
Blue Shield of California Theater at YBCA, San Francisco
May 3rd, 2024

Last Friday night brought the opening of Smuin Contemporary Ballet’s Dance Series 2 – a captivating visual feast that serves as the conclusion to the company’s current season. And this is one for the record books. Not only does Smuin mark an epic three decades, but also a change in Artistic leadership. Soon Associate Artistic Director Amy Seiwert will take the helm as Smuin’s new A.D., as Celia Fushille moves on from a post she has held for seventeen years. Fushille and Seiwert have come together to craft next season, an exciting collection of past and present work which was just recently announced. But first, the 30th year must come to an end, and the Dance Series 2 program was a dynamic and entertaining finale, indeed. A quadruple bill of Founder Michael Smuin’s Starshadows, Brennan Wall’s Untwine, Seiwert’s Broken Open and the world premiere of Annabelle Lopez Ochoas’s Tupelo Tornado

Cassidy Isaacson and Brandon Alexander in
Wall's Untwine
Photo Chris Hardy

The first two pieces certainly had a throughline; and it was the notion of pairs, of couples. A lyrical waltz set to a Maurice Ravel composition, Michael Smuin’s wistful Starshadows (1997) had romance to spare. Three couples entered and exited the starry backdropped stage with dreamy, romantic abandon. Splits were imagined on and off the floor as the dancers created a woven tapestry of sublime ease. Calming and flowy, Starshadows was not just an ideal introduction into the performative space; it was a perfect counter for what would unfold next. Untwine, choreographed in 2022 by Smuin company artist Brennan Wall, shared a penchant for pas de deux. But unlike Starshadows, it began with a burst of dramatic charge. Danced by Cassidy Isaacson and Brandon Alexander, the first duet featured a plethora of moving lifts. The pair spinning, interlacing, and defying centrifugal forces at every turn. Then suddenly the mood shifted. Three additional couples joined the scene, and the atmosphere changed to one of quiet restraint. Classical ballet lines peppered the phrase material; subdued body postures grounded the composition. Then, the two sensibilities merged, showing the exciting play that can exist between quiet restraint and dramatic charge. It is important to note that all seven pairings were heteronormative – I wonder if the current casting decisions could be different.

Another mix of modalities was in store after the first intermission with Seiwert’s Broken Open (2015). A dazzling mélange of contemporary and traditional ballet, Broken Open invites its viewers to experience a multi-chapter physical novel. And it truly is quite an emotional ride, journeying from a serious, somber tone at the onset to a happier and brighter reality at the end.

Smuin in Seiwert's Broken Open
Photo Chris Hardy

The idea of ‘breaking open’ was everywhere in this full ensemble suite. Second position was abundant – in plié, in developpé, in attitude. Group vignettes were never stagnant. Rather, they were in constant motion, evolving and creating new landscapes and vistas. Legs and arms flicked into the air, seemingly ridding themselves of constraint. Pirouettes unfolded with high arms, opening up the front of the body. There was even a ‘breaking open’ of the stage area as Seiwert employed the wings as an active place, a place to onboard movement phrases. The dancers were tremendous throughout, with a stand-out, passionate pas de trois from Mengjung Chen, Dominic Barret and Yuri Rogers. And there was an extra infusion of energy on opening night as composer Julia Kent provided live cello accompaniment. The only thing that felt somewhat out of place for me were the costumes.

Many theatrical devices were present in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Tupelo Tornado, a world premiere ensemble work that took a deep dive into Elvis-Presley-land. There were blue (suede?) gloves. A television set headpiece. A neon on-air radio sign and accompanying static. Masks, crowns, fringe. Music. And of course, much choreography, including a genius Fosse-style dance line. It was entertaining; engaging, and the differing elements all worked in concert to bring the audience and Elvis into a shared environment. 

Brandon Alexander in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa's
Tupelo Tornado
Photo Chris Hardy


But Tupelo was not all bell bottoms and screaming fans. It was a dance drama, a piece of dance theater. Dance theater with a narrative message and theme. Tupelo investigated the birthing of image. The machine that may be behind the building of a persona. The created self and the loss of self. Fame, yes, but also costs, realities, consequences and appropriation. It was deep, nuanced and layered, and in the titular role, Alexander was transcendent.


Dance Series 2 runs in San Francisco until May 12th, before heading to Mountain View, Walnut Creek and Carmel.