Showing posts with label Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 20, 2022

Dance, Macro to Micro

Are You in Your Feelings?, photo by Paul Kolnik

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater at New York City Center

Choreographer Kyle Abraham is completely relaxed in his working process, picking and choosing small gestures that ground his dances. One of the most memorable moves in Kyle Abraham’s new dance, Are You in Your Feelings?, is a rhythmic paddling of arms, a kind of relaxed speed walking thing, repeated for a spell by a group of women. It’s so relatable that I found myself rocking my arms while walking recently, smiling at the thought. While this penchant for quoting everyday intriguingly relates him to the Judson movement, he braids in bravura passages to create a unique, completely contemporary language.

This premiere for the Ailey company during its month-long City Center run uses soul, R&B, and hip-hop music. The sections of dance, to 11 songs, are connected by casual banter and flirtatious interactions among the dancers. Abraham’s style flows like silk, enhanced by the performers’ gossamer bomber jackets and loose pants by Karen Young. Certain steps evoked classic Ailey, such as a woman standing on a man’s knee, as in Revelations. Humor threads throughout—knees knocking, duck walks, remarks like “she pulled a me on me!” The recurring theme of courtship and its pitfalls set the tone, with sidebars including two men finding affection but hiding it due to societal pressure, and gender bonding.

A women’s section to “I’ll Call You Back” contained the infectious arm paddling, plus lots of hypnotic subtle upper body work. Other songs included a remix of “I Only Have Eyes for You” and Lauryn Hill’s “Forgive Them Father.” The set, uncredited, is a simple but striking arc of neon, with lighting by Dan Scully. Are You in Your Feelings? feels like a coda to An Untitled Love at BAM last February—both pop culture slices of daily life. The Ailey dancers look fantastic and at home in Abraham’s choreography, which is growing into an admirable body of work danced by his own group and major companies.

On a program of “new” work, Ailey also performed Duet, by Paul Taylor (from 1964)—a brief, gem-like kinetic puzzle in which no movement is wasted. In the opening pose, the pair resembles a perfect modern sculpture, Renaldo Maurice hovering over a seated Jacquelin Harris, their arms forming an oval. Courtly, with clockwork precision, every pose is picture perfect. (The choice of repertory is also a reminder of Artistic Director Robert Battle’s choreographic lineage; he danced and choreographed with David Parsons’ company for many year, and Parsons was once a Taylor dancer.) Another old new work, Survivors, depicted Nelson Mandela's jailing and his wife Winnie's taking the mantle. To an intense drum track and score by Max Roach and Peter Phillips, this work—originally from 1986, created by Ailey and Mary Barnett—showed how Ailey's style was classical jazz, with its four compass points and boxy arms.

Jamar Roberts’ premiere, In a Sentimental Mood, showcased Courtney Celeste Spears and Christopher R. Wilson as a couple in a fraying relationship, reliving romantic memories. The two dancers wrung fervent emotion from the expressionistic, albeit mostly upright, movement, set to Duke Ellington and Rafiq Bhatia. The design, also by Roberts—a sparsely furnished, traditional living room and street clothes—veered to the literal in this bittersweet work.

Rivulets. Photo: Maria Baranova

Tere O'Connor at Baryshnikov Arts Center

On a completely different scale, the Baryshnikov Arts Center presented the premiere of Rivulets by Tere O’Connor, a comprehensively conceived work of art bursting with his vision. Audience members sit on two sides of the stage close enough to touch the eight dancers; benches line the other two sides where non-active dancers wait to re-enter. The opening tableau is a bit of an anomaly within the piece; from two seated dancers trail chains of others, descending to the floor. Over a densely packed hour, the performers coalesce at the center, expanding outward, or pair off for unique duets. There are quirky bits, like monster hands and low-angled arms, that intersperse with more lyrical, space-eating steps. 

I was close enough to count stitches on their terrific, primarily green and blue-hued costumes by Reid Bartelme, which included first layers of one-piece tights and trunks that appeared to be knitted as a single piece, swingy outer garments, and square silver hardware that added some jewelry-like flair. O'Connor's score for the piece—a melange of piano, synth, and ambient—fulfilled its presumable mission to provide background sound and texture. 

With its theatricality, extensive production elements, and superhero dancers, Ailey represents the maximal possibilities of dance. Viewers whoop, clap, and scream at the top of their lungs in curtain calls (and sometimes during dances). By contrast, BAC’s presentation of Rivulets is the polar opposite—serene, at moments, intimate, literally within reach, and well-crafted, technically challenging, and incredibly rich, choreographically. In a given week in the city, what fortune to see such range.

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

2018 Milestones

The Trout by Mark Morris. Photo: Stephanie Berger
DANCE
Jane Comfort’s 40th Anniversary Retrospective, La MaMa
Well-produced video, tight direction, and a welcome reminder of the breadth of Comfort’s warm-hearted oeuvre and the tightly knit dance community.

Balanchine: The City Center Years
A dream mini-festival of companies and dances that reminded us of City Center’s sometimes overlooked history.

The Trout, by Mark Morris, Mark Morris Dance Group, Mostly Mozart, Lincoln Center
Displayed Morris’ musical insightfulness and the intelligence to embrace simplicity, even if it pointed out the diminished dance offerings at Lincoln Center.

Canto Ostinato by Lucinda Childs, INTRODANS, Fall for Dance, New York City Center
This mesmerizing gem performed by a Dutch troupe was overshadowed in a strong festival that is more focused, if less populist, than ever.

The Runaway, by Kyle Abraham, New York City Ballet
Taylor Stanley’s dynamite solo was the transcendent performance of the year in a work that felt revolutionary in the Koch Theater.

Dearest Home, Kyle Abraham, A.I.M., Quadrille, Joyce Theater
In contrast, this subtle work had just enough narrative implication. One of five fascinating choices for a continuing series done in-the-round.

Lazarus, Rennie Harris, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, City Center
Subtle but gut-wrenching movement metaphors and well-paced dynamics building in two acts to an exuberant and elating finale.

RIP
Paul Taylor

ART
Cy Twombly, Gagosian
Who needs museums? (Kidding. Sorta.)

BOOKS
The Overstory, Richard Powers
Interwoven stories, all somehow involving trees, made me realize how much I take them for granted.

Warlight, Michael Ondaatje
In wartime, seemingly neglected children have been cared for by a colorful supporting cast of characters.

The Library Book, Susan Orlean
History and a crime make for surprisingly compelling reading. Plus, a killer title and book design.

Clock Dance, Anne Tyler
Redemption and personal re-invention sneakily prevail in this novel with many odd characters.

There There, Tommy Orange
The fates of a roster of characters comes together at a powwow in Oakland, CA.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Rennie Harris' Lazarus Lifts the Ailey Company

Lazarus. Photo: Paul Kolnik
On Dec 11, City Center turned 75, and this season is Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater’s 60th. They celebrated together with a program featuring not only Ailey’s finest, Revelations, but also longtime City Center artists Paul Taylor and Twyla Tharp. The evening showcased Ailey Company’s strengths and weaknesses underlying its artistic model.

The late Paul Taylor’s work might seem a fine fit for Ailey, but its “cover” of Piazzolla Caldera merely skims the surface of this rather dark dance. Its two most important characters are the first male solo and the spurned woman (done respectively and most memorably in recent years by Taylor’s Michael Trusnovec and Annmaria Mazzini). The man leads the group of men, moving first and slicing and attacking like a toreador. Jamar Roberts performed this role for Ailey, and lacked the necessary ferocity, thereby diffusing any dramatic tension. The female part was danced by Jacqueline Green, who also presented very little of the built-up angst and desperation of the character, who is cruelly rejected by every man on stage. Both Roberts and Green are tall, lithe, elegant dancers, but in this case lack the grit and aggression that roil beneath the surface of this deceptively shadowy piece.

The Taylor lexicon also might appear easy from a technical point of view. Stag leaps, low jetés, and chassées comprise its core. The Taylor company obviously renders these moves constantly in Taylor’s repertory, thus they are consistent among performers. The Ailey company doesn’t perform these daily, and each dancer does the moves slightly differently, resulting in a lack of visual cohesion. When you watch the Taylor company, there are passages when these synchronized sections whir and click like a Swiss clock’s movement, creating visual harmony. I missed this tuned, symphonic sense with Ailey’s interpretation.

Twyla Tharp’s Golden Section is a signature work by this uncategorizable, prodigious choreographer, and a very challenging one to perform. It’s not easy to appear as if you’re carefree and louche while doing super hard steps that require great coordination and precise timing between dancers. That said, Ailey has been performing this on and off for many years, and it looked better synced than I remember. David Byrne's jaunty score, which hasn't aged a bit, does a lot of heavy lifting by moving the action along.
Kairos. Photo: Paul Kolnik
The program on Dec 18 offered highly contrasting works. Wayne McGregor’s Kairos (2014), a company premiere, offers more of the British choreographer’s affinity for exaggerated positions and ballet shapes. While Ailey’s dancers are obviously accomplished in many styles, they aren’t strictly ballet dancers, and so many of the lines that might make sense on point, or on exaggeratedly balletic bodies, here feel blunted. Idris Khan’s set—scrims with graphics resembling musical staff lines—make the dancers appear like musical notes. But this somewhat promising metaphor is diluted with the use of Max Richter’s version of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, a by-now clichéd composition that elicits thoughts of background  car commercials. McGregor’s athletic, balletic style may be tempting to set on Ailey for many reasons, but for me there is an emotional void at its core.

How wonderful then to follow this soulless work with the world premiere of Rennie Harris’ Lazarus in two acts. A central character (Daniel Harder) falls and rises several times in the piece, a motif that could be seen through various lenses in civil/human rights—racial, economic, despotic—or even as a metaphor for an artist and his life and work. The beginning of the piece feels like a dream (or nightmare) scape, with a soundtrack mixing words and sounds (barking dogs) accompanying seemingly discrete scenes featuring a group working or praying. They support Harder as he coughs and collapses, and in a harrowing scene that elicited gasps, lynched bodies achieved through the simplest of gestures—a listing head and small twists of the body on the balls of the feet. 

Jamar Roberts supports the stricken Harder, who then does an arduous phrase, falling forward with the body folded, rear leg aloft. The pace quickens to Michael Kiwanuka’s “I’m a black man in a white world,” and the costumes shift from old fashioned cotton blouses, skirts and pants to more modern garb. The group claps, skipping and crossing their feet, but then appears to be sprayed with fire hoses. Jeroboam Bozeman, wearing only jeans, symbolizes modern man acting with individual intent. The corps, lying down, transforms from a sprouting field, to waving grass that subsumes Harder’s body, to cresting waves.

In the second act, the dancers sport LA Laker-inspired purple and gold tunics. The movement is less trance-like and more rhythmic, clicking and snapping crisply. Harris’ choreography is less reliant on the hip-hop in which he made his name, with more strands of upright fast footwork and joyous space-eating steps. (It feels very connected to Ron Brown’s style.) The pure joy of dancing is rapturous and contagious, and the dancers literally dust off their heels, shaking off the historical luggage and issues of mortality to simply live. Harder walks toward the light, and the audience departs on a cloud.

A couple of notes on dancers: Clifton Brown looks truly joyous and inspired in Revelations, after so many years performing it on and off; his power and stasis in "I Wanna Be Ready" are particularly moving. Vernard Gilmore has been with the company for 21 years, and has gradually (for me) developed into its emotional center with his unshowy, grounded approach in a company of spectacular dancers.