|Alessandra Ferri & Herman Cornejo. |
Photo: Joan Marcus
We learn fragments about everyone's disparate states of mind in Irving's four brief monologues (by Tina Howe). Irving imbues them with enough salt and snap so that we feel her own vanity, and the guilt in her complicity in the awkward relationship. The two dancers never speak, but they spend a great deal of time embracing, un/dressing, and twirling and spinning in multitudinous ways, often with Ferri's legs and feet as punctuation.
They are both supremely gifted ballet dancers, but Clarke only once indulges in a display of technique, when Chéri undergoes a fit of rage expressed in multiple pirouettes and stag leaps. They do, however, use a refined expressive physicality manifested in every subtle gesture and loaded look, a particular refined gift in certain great dancers such as these. And while Clarke resists showing off her cast, the resulting choreography becomes repetitive and uninspiring after a spell. The chemistry between these two expressive performers is palpable, but one wishes that the staging and movement were more transportive.
|Amy Irving and Herman Cornejo. Photo: Joan Marcus|