Reggie Wilson/Fist and Heel Performance Group

Cal Performances presents

Photo Peggy Woolsey

Reggie Wilson/Fist and Heel Performance Group

Moses(es)

September 23^rd, 2017

Zellerbach Hall, UC Berkeley

I think any performing arts writer uses favorite language components to describe what they’re seeing – favorite terms, favorite adjectives, favorite phraseology. I certainly do. Though one word that I rarely use is masterful. But every once in a while, masterful is the most fitting descriptor, and this weekend’s performance of Moses(es) by Reggie Wilson/Fist and Heel Performance Group at Cal Performances was special. It calls for the use of ‘masterful.’

Devoid of the wings and the cyclorama, a fully lit, deconstructed space greeted the viewer as they entered Zellerbach Hall. A red suitcase was placed amidst ample silver tinsel that had been strewn about the stage. Artistic Director, choreographer and performer Reggie Wilson entered, standing downstage right. He straightened his clothing, smiled at the audience and tossed wrapped candy out to them. In these opening moments, Wilson connected directly with the audience, and so right away, the line between performer and viewer had become porous. One by one, the company came out into the space, introduced themselves, announced what I assumed was their birthplace as well as giving a statement of time, which I again assumed was how long they had been working with Fist and Heel Performance Group. 

As “Go Down, Moses” scored the action, the cast assembled in a wedge formation upstage left, nodding their heads, while Wilson packed all the tinsel in the suitcase and rolled it away. He returned, and with the company, began harmonizing and vocalizing. From that instant, you knew that everyone onstage was a consummate interdisciplinary artist, skilled as movers, vocalists and percussionists.

Moses(es)’ early choreography spoke of familiar motions and strong water imagery, water, of course being integral to much of the biblical Moses story. Performers walked, knelt and rolled in the space; bodies were ceremoniously laid down on the ground, like a baptism. Legs swam in the air and dancers dove into second position, lopping up an entity (presumably water) and then letting it go. Layered on top were recognizable gestures – pointing/following the horizon and cradling a baby.

In preparation for seeing the work on Friday, I had read that questions of leading and following were intrinsic to Moses(es) and that exploration was so, so clear at many points in the seventy-minute composition. Mid-way through, a trio began dancing in unison and as their phrase material continued and accumulated, one would take over leading the group, then another, then another until each member of the trio was experiencing the choreography at their own pace, with no leader whatsoever. A later quintet had some similar qualities. Two dancers introduced a movement phrase; three more joined a number of beats after (in canon) and then eventually the five found their way back together in unison. A call and answer song, which was accompanied by a simultaneous physical pattern, was another example of this overarching query. A cyclical, circular entity with no starting and no ending, and consequently, no leader and no follower.

Framed by a disco ball, each individual brought his or her own unique expressive dance downstage center to a song where the pervasive lyric was that of “follow me.” They played with tempi (sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down), choreographic style and genre as well as physical intensity. And a mathematical segment brought patterning and repetition to the table, though it was a bit on the long side and its connection to the whole of the work was a little lost on me.

Near the end of Moses(es), cannoned movement sequences recurred, with the performers staggering the start of various choreographic phrases. The water imagery from the beginning also made another appearance with arms and legs swimming through the space, and the company once more pointing along the horizon. And in a fantastic cadence, Wilson asked the audience to join in with some of the singing and vocalizing right near the end of the work, engaging with the audience and again, breaking the barrier between viewer and performer.     

Dance Theatre of San Francisco

Dance Theatre of San Francisco

Juliann Witt and Allie Papazian
Photo RJ Muna

The Fall Program – Season Five

September 22^nd, 2017

Cowell Theater, San Francisco

If there’s one thing that stays with you after a performance by Dance Theatre of San Francisco, it’s the company’s extraordinary artistic rigor – rigorous choreographic innovation, rigorous communication and interpretation of that choreography, rigorous technique, rigorous phrase material. On Friday evening, the much-lauded DTSF opened its 2017 Fall program, marking five years of contemporary artmaking, under the Artistic Direction of Dexandro D. Montalvo since 2015. With this mixed repertory fall program, DTSF confirms that the buzz in the dance community about their work is spot on. This is a company you need to see.  

The evening began with Montalvo’s Coovy-Two, a world premiere solo danced by Cooper Neely. Positional clarity combined with legato phrases; fluidity and precision concurrently flowed through the space. With locking isolations, open stances in 2^nd and 4^th positions, jazz influences, martial arts inspired movement, and even a textbook grand plié in 5^th, Montalvo’s choreographic vocabulary was the epitome of dynamic. And Neely was absolute perfection – what a strong opening to DTSF’s fall home season.

Next up was the one piece on the program from a guest choreographer, the world premiere of Angela Dice Nguyen’s Lady in Waiting, a quartet for the four women of the company. With gorgeous costumes reminiscent of the classic Isadora Duncan tunic (design by DTSF company dancer Christopher Dunn), clarity of shape, intention and position again reigned supreme, whether in a large pose, an extension, a simple hand gesture, an off-balance promenade or intense bicep shaking. Even as the dancers walked from one place to another, their focus was so striking, not one moment of ambiguity. My sense was that there was a narrative fiber running through Lady in Waiting, with instances of lightness and joy alongside more serious, somber moments. But it was the specificity of the movement and physicality, both in the choreography and in the dancers’ performances, that drew me in. Closing the first half was the only returning piece on the program, Montalvo’s Impulse from 2014. A charging beat framed the luscious quartet for DTSF’s four men. Again the intense choreographic breadth sang from the stage – equal parts serpentine legato sequences and percussive staccato work. And the way that these two states were crafted together was something to behold. It was like a stream of physical consciousness that compelled attention. Your view was fixed on the stage, not wanting to miss a single detail. Each millisecond of the dance was that special.

Following intermission came the final world premiere on the program, Montalvo’s Broke(n), an ensemble work for the entire DTSF company, and one that existed in the beautiful in between spaces, a physical essay of haunting extremes. Very dramatic right from the start, one dancer is lovingly presented with a rose only to have it snatched away by another. Then, the entire cast erupted into a theatrical wonderland, dancing with expanse to “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music, their purposely pasted-on smiles masking what was underneath. Then the music shifted from the ‘putting on a happy face’ vibe to one of anguish, and a motif of the hands covering the eyes was introduced, one that would recur throughout Broke(n). Mid-way through the work, one dancer cycled through a lengthy solo while seated on a chair, signaling restrictions and constraints. Slowly, the rest of the performers brought their chairs to join him in a collective expression of camaraderie. Eventually the choreographic statement moved off the chairs and into the main space as the original soloist watched with a distinct sadness. The extremes continued, the hands over the face recurring as well as the notion of collectiveness, this time expressed through group embraces. And at the end of the work, the rose is again taken away from the very first dancer, who subsequently begins to pick up flower petals that had been strewn around the stage. While the whole may have still been elusive, there were parts of the whole that were available and present.  

With such specificity on stage (even the bows after each work were so clear and defined), it was a little surprising that some of the program’s format logistics were a bit off – a very late start and a major lag between the first and second pieces, though no one was changing costumes and there was no alteration to the stage environment. In addition, there was no announcement saying that the curtain was being held or notes in the program to expect a significant pause between works (though important to say that the transition between Lady in Waiting and Impulse was very quick). These observations may seem pedantic and picky, and perhaps they are. And I’m the first to admit that delays are a personal pet peeve of mine. But when presenting concert dance, these details matter. And they matter, not because they take away from any of the choreography or the performances, but because they affect the overall flow of the entire program.

Alyssandra Katherine Dance Project

Alyssandra Katherine Dance Project

AKDP's Kelsey Gerber
Photo Kofi Kumi, Amoa Photography

Brace Forward

ODC Theater, San Francisco

Aug 18^th-19^th, 2017

(the following review is based on a video of the performance)

Six dancers explored the ODC space, walking with equal parts ease and determination. Each appeared to be on their own individual circuit, though occasionally, would meet. Some of these interactions took the shape of a simple circular pattern while others were more complex – one body leaning forwards or backwards in space, while another took that weight and rebounded it back to standing. The scene felt task-based and the movement, familiar and accessible.

These were the opening moments of Obstruct & Connect, by choreographer Alyssandra Katherine Wu and danced by the Alyssandra Katherine Dance Project (AKDP) this past summer at ODC Theater. A mixed repertory quadruple bill, the program, entitled Brace Forward, joined three works by AKDP with a special offering by guest choreographer Carly Lave.

As Obstruct & Connect continued, the walking pathways gave way to a duet downstage right. While a video projection (by Clare Schweitzer) framed the action, the falling and catching motif repeated, accumulating force, speed and intensity. Then an entirely different duet emerged, still holding the weight of the body as its foundation, but with much fuller, lush choreographic material. This eventually grew into a full ensemble statement of athletic, through-expressed physicality: large extensions and level changes, all informed by a sense of suspension and release. The solos, duets and trios that followed built on this choreographic foundation, adding in unexpected acrobatic walkovers and impressive dives and falls.

The program notes for Obstruct & Connect share with the viewer a question that was at the heart of the piece, “what happens to a contact dance when one or more partners stop the conversation by only giving weight rather than receiving?” This study of weight was very apparent in Obstruct & Connect; a highly successful communication in both the choreographic intention and in the company’s sharing of the work. Having said that, I find it a challenge to understand improvisational practices and formal, structural inquiries around improvisational practices within a performative container. Not particularly in this work, but more in general. I’m not saying that they don’t fit together, not at all. But the relationship and conversation feels very blurry to me. Certainly something to keep thinking about, and Obstruct & Connect provides another opportunity to consider.

Another Time was up next on the Brace Forward program, a narrative-inspired, mixed discipline work that, with its strong creative contrast to Obstruct & Connect, demonstrated Wu’s artistic breadth. A montage of family photos (video again by Schweitzer) unfolded on the back screen. A soloist, Ying-Ting Hsu (Gama), sprang from one pool of light to another around the stage, each instance introducing a distinct physical idea and emotional charge. With blackouts in between, this opening sequence felt just like the photomontage – glimpses of one moment in time. And as the lights rose fully, the choreography similarly whipped around the theater.

Next, the video morphed into images of Hsu dancing amidst natural environments, and she responded to those images, slowly bending her upper body backwards in space until it reached the ground. While Hsu remained in this posture, the text of an oral history conversation took over as Another Time’s score, telling of a deeply personal life journey. Hsu’s legs walked and swam through the air, moving from one attitude to another, as gripping words spoke of unimaginable circumstances. Slow, meditative gestures brought Hsu back to standing, her sweeping legs and swinging arms intimating defense and running. And so striking was the fact that the choreography was not interpreting the text, but instead responding and reacting to it, and as the audience, you began to realize that this kind of real-time dialogue (between movement and sound, between movement and video, between movement and light) is what had been happening all along. Such an astonishing performance by Hsu, not only in terms of narrative depth and technical acumen, but also in stamina…conquering a sixteen-minute solo is quite an accomplishment.

Lave’s Mimesis also brought a narrative slant to the Brace Forward program, though from a more conceptual and deconstructed perspective. Her program notes say this, “Mimesis explores forms of imitation and representation through the politicized site of the female body.” The ten-minute trio, danced by Brianna Torres, Jane Selna and Madison Doyle aptly reflected that intention. The incredibly fluid movements and seamless transitions in the work cannot be ignored, though what spoke most in the choreography was its externality. In line with outside, imposed perceptions, expectations and assumptions, Mimesis’ phrase material came from that same place – external impulses. From the first long arabesque extension that went so far out in space it had no choice but to flex into an attitude to the subtle port de bras to the use of wide second position in plié to the rolling spines, the vocabulary was a reaction to external stimuli. An outside force attacking the solarplexus brought on falls; the performers violently brushed their thigh muscles, ridding themselves of a controlling obstacle or barrier.

If Obstruct & Connect was about structural composition queries while Another Time and Mimesis focused on narrative connective tissue, the final piece on the Brace Forward program was all about the movement, pure physicality. Wu’s Glass Ceiling paired pedestrianism, tasks, gestures, athletics, partnering and even martial arts-inspired steps with her penetrating contemporary choreography. Each of the six dancers appeared to take a turn as the constant in the piece, taking the jump rope located upstage and with it, providing a metronome-like measure, almost like a heartbeat. In the main stage space, the ensemble would cycle through the vast variety of movement styles and genres. And Wu mined these styles with additionally attention to different tempi – from the allegro of the first floorwork solo phrase to the slow controlled adagio of the later cluster formations.