Creative Domain, a film on Paul Taylor's process

James Samson working with Paul Taylor

So much goes into creating a dance, but we rarely see this painstaking process. Instead, most of us saunter into the theater, plop down, possibly scan the program, and expect to be entertained, enlightened, and/or challenged. Then we are quick to judge; the impatient ones sometimes can't even wait until the house lights go up before proclaiming their already firm opinions.

Kate Geis' new film, Paul Taylor: Creative Domain, follows choreographer Paul Taylor as he built the dance Three Dubious Memories, which premiered in 2010. A surprising amount of time is devoted to Taylor working in the studio with his leads: James Samson, Amy Young, Sean Mahoney, and Rob Kleinendorst, plus the chorus. We watch the very first day in the studio working on this piece as Taylor reads the casting assignments. Because he typically creates just two dances a year, being cast—or not—can have great bearing on a dancer's studio time. It's also an honor to be included (although no one is cast in everything), and the dancers give their thoughts about this selection process.

We then watch rehearsals—in some, Taylor prods the dancers into supplying poses and transitions—on into production meetings, and finally the premiere. By dissecting certain sections and interviewing the dancers and creative team involved, we gain understanding about the motives and motifs within the dance. It's fascinating, and we are shown just how painstaking it is to create a complex 20-minute plus dance. 

We also receive a broader view of daily life at the company. Morning class, physical therapy, personal relationships (well — one, in any case, as Amy and Rob are married; they partner here—somewhat unbelievably—for the first time), and the fluid, respectful relationship between Taylor and his dancers. Taylor also talks at length about his working process, including nuts and bolts about structure (he shows his notebook of diagrams and schematics), influences (or, as he winkingly acknowledges, a stolen idea from Tudor, whose work he greatly respects), choosing and working with the music, and his two basic approaches to the body in space—2D, his flat "Grecian" style used for the chorus, and 3D, with more plasticity and dimension, for the leads.

Amy Young and Rob Kleinendorst

Composer Peter Elyakim Taussig sent in his composition for Taylor's consideration, and against the odds, it was chosen. We meet Taussig as he sits in a bucolic field with his computer, working. Two longtime collaborators—costume/set designer Santo Loquasto and lighting designer Jennifer Tipton—discuss their contributions to the process as well. And Bette de Jong, Taylor's rehearsal director since the early days of the company, reveals how the choreographer uses his dancers like shades of paint; sometimes he typecasts, as he did with de Jong while she dancer, using her long limbs and inner tension in dramatic ways. 

This casting-to-type is evident as we watch Samson in the role of Chorus Master. His stature, gravitas, and clean-cut looks underscore a kind of unerring steadfastness essential to the role (and not dissimilar to several other roles either choreographed for, or inherited by, James, whose physique is similar to Taylor's as a dancer). Young, who retired last year and is intensely missed for her warmth and adaptability, similarly possesses an archetypal openness and fortitude. In this dance, she is betrayed by her mate, who bonds with Mahoney's character, and she becomes enraged, and empowered. Young also touchingly discusses how she used to be disappointed to not be chosen for dances, and rather than reacting petulantly, embraced the gifts that Taylor did offer, which seemed to lead to more involvement, or at least more appreciation on her part.

Cinematographer Tom Hurwitz focused his lens on close-up shots of Taylor and the many interviewees (Geis allows these tight shots to linger long enough to allow unspoken sentiment to come through). He also takes us into the rehearsal—in, above, and among the dancers. 

The film's premise makes sense, and covers lots of ground while tracking a very specific arc. However, presumably by virtue of timing and chance, some of the company's finest dancers are nearly invisible—Laura Halzack, Parisa Khobdeh (both of whom were injured at least during part of the shoot; Khobdeh offers some of the most poignant comments, nonetheless), Francisco Graziano, but primarily Michael Trusnovec, one of the foremost interpreters of Taylor's oeuvre in the history of the company. He is interviewed briefly, and in the final scene we see him begin to work with the choreographer on the next dance (to Arvo Part), but we are deprived of any substantial dance segments with him. If only Geis would film a sequel revolving around a dance with these missing artists. One can dream, but in the meantime, Creative Domain is a worthwhile dive into Taylor's process, and among his gifted company.

Paul Taylor: Creative Domain (82 mins, directed by Kate Geis; executive producer Robert Aberlin; presented by Paul Taylor Dance Company and Resident Artist Films), screens at the Film Society of Lincoln Center starting Sep 11.

Paul Taylor Dance Company—Notebook Review, March 7

James Samson, Michael Trusnovec, and Sean Mahoney in Brandenburgs. Photo: Paul B. Goode

Paul Taylor Dance Company's season is underway at the Koch Theater (through March 24). The March 7 performance featured just two dances on the program rather than the usual three, in front of a packed, whooping and whistling house.

Speaking in Tongues (1988)

• Pentecostal preacher and his flock. Yikes!
• Simply reading the cast list is like reading a short story. 
• The first searing image: Michael Trusnovec (A Man of the Cloth), all in black, in silhouette, standing stock still in a doorway—omniscient, all-powerful, scrutinizing the townsfolk for strays and acolytes, which are sorted in due time. No one can convey as much through stillness as Trusnovec, not to mention his silky, weightless movement. He's like a superhero—Ironman?—who channels all the power in the universe through his gaze and body.
• Lovely duet between James Samson (Himself, as he recollects) and Laura Halzack (His Better Half), who are well-proportioned to be partners; velvety, plush movers full of nobility and ease.
• Amy Young (A Mother) and Jamie Rae Walker (Her Unwanted Daughter) dance several duets that read as touching, until you fully process their characters' names 
• Fine solos by Michelle Fleet (The Daughter Grown Up) and Rob Kleinendorst (Odd Man Out).
• The set—barn siding into which words are carved—looks terrific in the Koch.
• One of Taylor's longest, most dramatic, stand-alone dances.

Brandenburgs

• A perfect example of Taylor's breadth when it follows Speaking in Tongues. Are there more polar opposite works in his repertory?
• Sheer delight in movement and arranging five men and three women in geometrically satisfying ways to Bach's perfectly classical music.
• Michael T. is again the Sun around which all the other dancer-planets revolve. He gets to wear fancy pants—the color of faded moss, with sparkles around the waist—while the others wear regal, dark green velvet bodysuits and dresses.
• (There are now three Michaels—Apuzzo and Novak as well—in the ranks. Clearly if your name is Michael, it increases your odds of becoming a Taylor dancer. Get on that.)
• Parisa Kobdeh is now the go-to dancer for roles with humor, sass, and speed. In Brandenburgs, she dances several times with the men, and wags her shin at us winkingly.
• Eran Bugge has a radiant presence that expands with each performance.
• Amy Young, such a constant, flawless performer, has become a large part of the company's foundation.
• George Smallwood—the newest dancer—looks like he's having a ball.