We went to the Ohio Theatre to see Stolen Show (2004), a triptych of dances choreographed on BJM Danse (formerly known as Ballet Jazz de Montreal) by Canadian Crystal Pite during her three-year stint as choreographer in residence. We'd read about the company and the piece in order to write a short preview article; in one of the articles that we read, SeeMagazine.com, Pite had been forthcoming about the problems her commission posed: "How do you create a piece for a company with a mandate to entertain?" Her response was an innovative but provisional answer for the first part of the trilogy: 24, which was a series of 24 one-minute bullets or riffs. Then, having come up with a piece that could hold its own alongside the company's other, jazzier repertoire, Pite found a larger form in the idea of a parody/tribute to spectacle. What does it mean, she asked herself, to steal the show? And how was she to choreograph for a company whose audience had been trained to expect one show-stopping spectacle after another?

We went to the concert pretty much knowing what to expect, as it turned out. 24 starts with a solo, a guy popping and locking. The combination of the special performing skill with his high-level ballet technique instantly engaged the audience who laughed and applauded each of the following 23 numbers, although conversations among the audience afterward indicated that they, at least, had not known what to expect and were, appreciatively, a bit off balance. The bullets were solos, duets, and ensemble dances, some set to rhythmic, syncopated music that loosely falls under the heading "jazz", and some to electronic music (the commissioned score is credited to Owen Belton).

Some numbers (literally: each individual bullet or riff was announced by a bold projected number on the backdrop, counting down from 24) were comic, e.g., five guys in stocking caps, their goofy demeanor belied by their rhythmic precision, later echoed by five girls in outrageous bimbo-blonde wigs. Some of the pieces had darker undertones, e.g., two girls who crossed the stage together, one walking sideways and standing astride, and the other who rolled and was violently manipulated.

There was a lot to see. Often a number incorporated two separate centers of interest, a soloist on each half of the stage or a soloist on one half and a group on the other, and it wasn't always the obvious that one ended up watching; one standing soloist, dancing nicely, was upstaged by a group who danced the whole number on their stomachs.

24 ended with a company bow. "Yes, it was entertaining but what did it mean?" the people behind us asked each other. We did not reply, but we knew the answer from our reading on the BJM website: "The troupe's primary objective is not to portray the existential anguish of human beings but rather to show the body, pay homage to the splendour of its mechanism, its strength and sensuality."

In Part II, Xspectacle, Pite's announced objective was to present dance not as spectacle but as process, not as performance but as rehearsal. That neatly decodes why the dancers wandered out on stage to chat and warm up before the house lights dimmed, why they talked and marked through part of a dance several times before musical and theatrical lighting came in and they danced the sequence full out. Not a new idea, but effective for Pite's purposes.

Section III, Stolen Show, was more novel. A projection announced "a cast of thousands" but instead we found ourselves watching a bombastic Latin in a sequined jacket. His "act" is the antithesis of spectacle and when he is joined by a bevy of rubber chickens, a "volunteer from the audience", girls in blond wigs - one, short one stiletto heel shoe and clomping unevenly around the stage - and other assorted characters, the stage is set for some broad clowning that reminds us - a bit- of Cirque de Soleil, or the circus, and pokes a gentle fun at productions like Momix, or razzle dazzle Fosse musicals. The rubber chickens are manipulated in a chorus line dance, and it was the best we ever saw rubber chickens dance.

Section III contained less actual dancing than any of the other sections, and what dancing there was could be undercut without warning, as in one group dance, which built momentum and intensity only to have the "audience volunteer" suddenly wander out and ask one of the dancers to take his picture, which the dancer did while everyone else stopped dancing. Then they all picked up the dance where they left off, but ... how it was changed by the interruption! It wrapped up in a kind of deconstructed Big Spender number with glitter falling from the flies.

The nearly sold out house loved it. During the standing ovation relatively few theatergoers hurried out to race back to the "burbs". Audience members we talked to that night and the next day liked it as much or more than the Momix show January 14th. In the proper context, it seems, confounded expectations can be as entertaining as spectacle.

The company's strong ballet skills were clearly evident in the dancer's long legs, stretched feet, high kicks and pulled-up torsos. The movement vocabulary in other respects extended beyond ballet technique; many kicks and turns (not a lot of multiple turns in this piece) were on an axis off vertical; popping, body isolations, and contact partnering, other non-ballet techniques, were pervasive and so thoroughly integrated into the dancer's classically trained bodies as to make the whole idiosyncratic style seem utterly natural. The company's women especially showed an interestingly non-classical ability to dance with their arms above and behind their heads. As always with BJM, the dancing was very sharp rhythmically.

Taken one at a time, none of these factors were particularly new. Together, though, perhaps they offer the possibility of a new contemporary ballet style on the North American continent - a style that freely incorporates techniques and forms from modern and other dance, as does ballet in Europe. That would be good news, as far as we're concerned.

Questions raised after the fact: Crystal Pite's choreographic residency at BJM is over. Would any Cleveland dance companies find Pite's choreography affordable? Or would Kidd Pivot, her own dance company, be available for a Cleveland performance? We think Cleveland's positive response to this performance should generate some interest in these options. from Cool Cleveland contributors Elsa Johnson and Victor Lucas vicnelsa@earthlink.net

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