Time Trials choreographed by co-founder Rebecca Malcolm-Naib was a duet for Malcolm-Naib and Katherine Livingston. A set piece, a large clock face that the dancers reset from time to time, was also by Malcolm-Naib. The dance's announced purpose was to explore the destructive impact of time constraints on relationships. Accordingly, the dancers' harmonious unison and counterpoint movements at the beginning of the dance gave way to images of turmoil in which one dancer stood astride the other.
She, a solo choreographed by Karen Stokes and danced by Julie Fox initially presented the dancer imprisoned in a fabric cage that is later revealed to be an upside down skirt.
Three is excerpted from an evening length production of the same name. It promised a lighthearted romp concerning the number three and the three cofounders delivered nothing less, illustrating with their dancing a sound design that included instrumental music and sung and spoken word. Discovered atop a set piece that contained a pyramid, they danced to the nursery rhymes three blind mice, three little kittens and another about three little girls, the youngest in curls. After more dancing with the requisite props (a carving knife, a mitten and a curly perm wig) they delivered an anatomy lecture on the triceps muscle.
All three pieces were choreographed around a concept. Three was our favorite for its coherence, humor, and exuberant dancing. We found the patterns of movement in Time Trials especially attractive, smooth and strong folding into and out of kneeling positions. She probably contained feminist nuances that were lost on us but we appreciated Fox's clear arabesque lines.
After this strong first half of the program, we looked forward to Plenty with greater hope and trepidation than we had before. Hope ... because Travesty had demonstrated their ability to handle content; trepidation ... because mental illness is such a difficult subject.
Hollywood's track record with mental illness, for example, is dismal. For every Beautiful Mind Hollywood makes a hundred movies built around psycho killers. But the track record of twentieth century choreographers is considerably better than Hollywood's, perhaps because, unlike film, bad dances have a way of quietly disappearing. Among the dances that have lasted are Martha Graham's Jungian view of the Greek Myths, Anthony Tudor's treatments of sexual repression, and Fall River Legend's classy treatment of an ax murderer.
We find it easier still to think of successful literary renderings of psychological states. The Diary of Vaslav Nijinsky springs to mind as an outstanding autobiographical account of that artist's descent into schizophrenia. We mention this because Plenty relies on autobiographical texts and testimony in addition to many other resources in attempting to make mental illness moving and real.
Plenty used 12 or so dancers, including student dancers from KSU, some dancers who were flown in for particular roles, actor Chuck Richie of KSU's drama department, and Barbara Allegra Verlezza and Sabatino Verlezza of KSU's dance department. It also included an aerial dancer on video, the poetry of R. C. Gardner spoken from the stage as well as through the sound system and a Plexiglas box containing a dancer, and the aforementioned text and testimony.
With all these resources, we'd have to say that the autobiographical text, credited to Kristin Walters, recorded and played through the sound system, delivered some of the most specific and relevant material. Text, both spoken and recorded, carried much of the weight throughout the dance. Movement, though sometimes choreographed in interesting patterns and passionately executed, was generally less effective - less specific - than text. And, no surprises, when it came time to speak lines from the stage the actor, Richie, was by far the most effective.
Not that the dance movement in Plenty was bad; the fact that it coexists with the loaded text without undercutting it is an achievement in itself. It's just that too often the movement didn't add much, either. The biggest exception to this was a duet danced by the Verlezzas in which he portrays a depressed husband and she his loyal wife. She repeatedly supports his collapsing form until at last he is able to stand and offer support himself. For both emotional content and technical strength we found this dance head and shoulders above the rest of Plenty.
We have long praised the Verlezzas as strong performers but choreographer / director Karpanty deserves praise too for her selflessness, allowing two guest artists to shine so in her piece.
We know youth is at a premium in dance but in this program as in Ground Works' recent program at Akron Icehouse we find ourselves appreciating mature performers.
From Cool Cleveland contributors Victor Lucas and Elsa Johnson vicanelsaATearthlink.net (:divend:)