“Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty”

A film by Jeffrey Ruoff

New Boston Films

In a few hours, 2013 will be a memory. And looking back at this past year in the performing arts, dance and film have been everywhere. In twelve short months, these creative collaborators have gone from artsy dance films to television competition/reality series to live interdisciplinary performance to 3-D movie telecasts to dance documentaries. In this last category, dance and film meet under unique circumstances, sharing a real-life story that allows the performing arts community to make the imperative link between today’s work and the past. But just like everything else, some documentaries are better than others. What distinguishes the best documentaries is when the subject matter is great and the filmmaking is great. Jeffrey Ruoff’s new film, “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” meets both criteria. While aptly chronicling the history of this dynamic, one-of-a-kind troupe, Ruoff mixes archival material, interviews, rehearsal footage and performance film with thoughtful and careful interdependence. From the early stages of inception to the present day company, “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” captures the ever-changing nature of artistic creativity.

The story told by “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” begins in the early 1970s at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire. The film notes that at this moment in time, the campus was dominated by a culture of newness, change and beginning. And for a small group of students, dance was part of ‘the new’. With no pre-conceived notions about movement and no previous training, these brave souls leapt into the creative forces of dance and physicality. Pilobolus was birthed (its namesake, a phototropic fungus) and the stage was set for collaborative practice and collective composition. While Pilobolus’ initial core group went through some changes, three voices emerged and came together as the artistic directorial team: Jonathan Wolken (who unexpectedly passed away in 2010), Robby Barnett and Michael Tracy, all of whom are interviewed throughout the documentary.

Through these interviews, the early years of Pilobolus are remembered: constructing movement vocabulary; building style; defining look. Shapes in space were a fascination for all involved and more specifically, how dancers moving together could create new and more intricate patterns. To that end, contact partnering really became embedded in Pilobus’ work. Rather than textbook contact improvisation, they envisioned a more collective, interactive conversation between bodies. The examination of formal choreographic concerns were of equal importance including issues of performance and process alongside space and time. But “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” is clear to show that for this group of artists, nothing was static. Instead, Pilobolus opted to look toward evolutionary systems and the migrating intersection of science and art.

With the background information established, Ruoff turns his focus to Pilobolus today, focusing on what has changed and what has stayed the same. After forty years, the company has grown into an arts organization with several different arms. “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” focuses mostly on the performing company, Pilobolus Dance Theater, and the teaching program, the Pilobolus Institute. For the former, Ruoff follows the group as they prepare for the 40^th anniversary performance at Dartmouth College, featuring a new collaboration with Art Spiegelman. And with the latter, Ruoff gets a front row seat to a number of master classes.

With any good documentary, the viewer knows more about the subject matter than they did before. And with Ruoff’s documentary, this is certainly true – in thirty-eight short minutes, the audience has learned a great deal about Pilobolus and their vital contribution to the performing arts. But the great documentaries have an additional, somewhat quieter result. Aside from the gained knowledge and detailed information, they bring realizations. “Still Moving: Pilobolus at Forty” reveals that over four decades, the dance group has been able to morph while still staying true to its initial core vision. And for those who are lucky enough to be Pilobolus ‘insiders’ – dancers, artistic staff, technical team –  their personal experience is a deliciously unspecified, yet guided, journey.     

"XXmas: The Christmas Ballet"

Smuin Ballet

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San Francisco

December 24^th, 2013

Photo: Patrick Fraser

The holiday dance scene in the Bay Area has a wonderful sense of variety: ODC/Dance’s annual “Velveteen Rabbit”, numerous versions of “Nutcracker” and shorter holiday-themed works that become part of mixed repertory programs in the month of December. Another delightful mainstay is Smuin Ballet’s “The Christmas Ballet”. An evening-length production, “The Christmas Ballet” is a collection of short dance vignettes; the first half set to traditional music and the second to more popular, and sometimes humorous, selections. Not only is this year’s iteration (cleverly dubbed “XXmas: The Christmas Ballet”) a family-friendly festive celebration but it is also part of a company milestone, the twentieth anniversary season.

Act I, subtitled ‘Classical Christmas’, pairs dance with sixteen works of time-honored holiday music. And though all the music in this first half is very traditional, it is juxtaposed against a wide spectrum of different choreographic styles from classical, modern and neo-classical ballet to romantic and lyrical movement. Nicole Haskins absolutely sparkled in Michael Smuin’s ‘Zither Carol’, “XXmas: The Christmas Ballet’s” first solo. Even in this relatively short variation, Haskins stunning technique was a revelation. Her single-foot balances on pointe go on and on no matter the position (passé, arabesque or coupé). Her standing foot never wavered, not even in a deep fondu arabesque, and the dreaded front shoulder that tends to pop up during turning combinations was nowhere to be found. A premiere work for this year’s production, Robert Dekkers’ ‘The Bells’ was an advanced dissertation in choreographic form. A perfect and diverse marriage of canon, unison and accumulation leapt from the stage, mixing independent movement lines with interdependent group architecture. Peppered throughout were fast-paced transitions and details of the hands and head - signatures of Dekkers’ creative choreography. Smuin’s ‘The Gloucestershire Wassail” seamlessly fused two different choreographic forms: Irish dance and classical ballet. The two fit together beautifully in this crowd favorite; tombé pas de boureés were marked with parallel pas de basques while turned out pas de chats were combined with ankle rocking.   

Act II’s ‘Cool Christmas’ brought fifteen additional dance sketches, each set to a more contemporary musical arrangement. Amy Seiwert’s “I Pray on Christmas” was all about community togetherness and a liveliness of spirit. The lyrics of the song deliver an important message, but when combined with Seiwert’s upbeat and jazzy social dance theme, it becomes clear that serious doesn’t have to be downtrodden or melancholy. There can be joy and hope present as well. Seiwert’s “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm”, the second premiere work in the 2013 line-up, again took ballet to a new place, playing with what the art form can do, not what it is. While exploring the role and definition of ballet today, Seiwert created a complex mosaic where ballet, hip hop and jive intersected. Percussive dance was the final highlight of “XXmas: The Christmas Ballet’s” second half with three fantastic pieces of Michael Smuin’s choreography. From the rhythmical waltz clog of ‘Droopy Little Christmas Tree’ to Shannon Hurlburt’s tour de force ‘Bells of Dublin’ to the men’s group performance in ‘The Blackville Reel’, percussive movement reigned supreme. The line of unison double pull-backs in ‘The Blackville Reel’ was particularly magnificent as it soared and floated from downstage toward the back cyclorama.

The only malady that “XXmas: The Christmas Ballet” suffers from is too many isolated dance sequences. The overall length of the performance is absolutely perfect; it doesn’t need to be shorter. But when there are over thirty scenes in two plus hours, it creates too much stopping and starting.     

"Nutcracker"

“Nutcracker”

War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco

December 11^th, 2013

December means many things: Christmas shopping and holiday parties; snow and winter sports; baking and decorating; reflecting and preparing for the year ahead. And in the dance world, December means “Nutcracker”.

Each December, the performing arts community and the “Nutcracker” become reacquainted. Folks may attend a single “Nutcracker” or several different ones. The shows can range from school versions all the way to professional companies. “Nutcrackers” may be brand new or they may be part of an annual tradition.

For a dance critic, the challenge here is keeping “Nutcracker” commentary fresh. And in pursuit of this goal, a plethora of techniques and strategies can be employed. One obvious choice is to focus on something unique every year; a new focal point, if you will. Perhaps the story, the choreography, a particular role or one specific scene. This year, let us look to the standout performances from opening night of San Francisco Ballet’s “Nutcracker”. 

While Act I’s party scene is more of a narrative experience, it does have some lovely (and challenging) variations, especially in Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson’s production. The Doll is one such dance, and as interpreted by Elizabeth Powell, it is the first performance highlight. Powell is technically strong, but what made her ‘doll’ better than others was her ability to stay true to character the entire time she was on stage (both in her featured solo and when she reappears briefly before the battle scene). Many dancers are able to convey the doll’s isolated movements but tend to lose the character authenticity when the choreography gets difficult. And it does. The doll does multiple sets of single footed relevés and a circular series of quick piqué turns. Powell and her role were one; hers was an amazing transformation.

Joan Boada in Tomasson's "Nutcracker"
Photo ©Erik Tomasson

The second noteworthy performance of the evening was Joan Boada as the Nutcracker Prince. Boada’s virtuosity in the grand pas de deux, his solo and the coda was out of this world. Not just because of his astonishing multiple turns (which he completes up in turning position, rather than down on the floor), dynamic circuit of jetés en tournant or gravity-defying ballon, but also because he hits every fifth position, whether in preparation or in transition. And his smile radiates pure joy, not at all pasted on. In addition, Boada pays equal attention to the Prince’s various storytelling interludes – those sections of the ballet that are more about acting and less about choreography. 

The final mention goes not to an individual but to a group of dancers – the ‘Waltzing Flowers’, led by Sugar Plum Fairy Vanessa Zahorian. One of Act II’s longest movements, this year’s performance was one of constant motion and beautiful suspension. The corps de ballet is a continuously changing entity, with new dancers being added and others moving on. And because of this, it can be tough for the corps to gel as a group. But this particular sub-set of the corps de ballet was a technical and narrative team, working together to convey the grace and elegance of this chapter. Throughout the waltz, the Sugar Plum Fairy has several featured moments – Zahorian transcended expectation. The landings of her jumps were as light as air; inaudible at times. And her relevé fouettés were magic.

There was only one thing that seemed out of place at San Francisco Ballet’s opening night performance, and it was the internal bows. In any ballet, including “Nutcracker”, there are the final bows, where all the participants take their well-deserved acknowledgement. But there are also bows that happen within the performance, usually following a featured variation. The majority of them were spot on, but a few were really drawn out, and not as a response to the applause. It felt strange, even maybe a little awkward; some tightening up would be helpful.