Review: JEANNE, the story of a woman

l. to r. Magdalena Gyftopoulos (dancer), Nina Brindamour (dancer),
Anna Ward (soprano), and Danielle Davidson (dancer) in JEANNE, the story of a woman. Presented by Fort Point Theater Channel,
Contrapose Dance, and Ensemble Warhol. Photo: Daniel J. van Ackere.

Last week, Boston was treated to a multidisciplinary adaptation of an operatic episode—an excerpt from James Swindle and Mark Warhol's full opera JEANNE. The work is part of an ongoing collaboration between Fort Point Theatre Channel, Ensemble Warhol, and Contrapose Dance to illuminate through voice, music, and dance the excerpted scenes of the original opera. The result is an evening that challenges the viewer to stay on their toes, as the lyrics dive into greater topics that require one's mind to be sharp to follow. Yet by doing this, we find we are rewarded with moments of clever wit, alongside global realizations we may never have considered prior to this performance.

For JEANNE, the story of a woman, we are given three sections: "Mark's Monologue," "Jeanne Meets Mark," and "Postlude." The beginning opens to a solo drummer against a sun-spotted floor. A geometric pattern of light cloaks the stage, and as the atmosphere brightens, we discover that Boston University Dance Theatre's traditional stage has been masterfully reimagined with varying levels of platforms and pipes, reminiscent of a factory after-hours. So, too, are Contrapose's three dancers a part of the set, acting at times as a traditional Greek chorus, and at others like a mobile personification of the machinery itself.

Anna Ward (soprano) and Magdalena Gyftopoulos
(dancer) in JEANNE, the story of a woman.
Presented by Fort Point Theater Channel,
Contrapose Dance, and Ensemble Warhol.Photo: Daniel J. van Ackere.

As the two central characters engage in a sung dialogue, we are met with an amusingly absurd scene: The grandeur and elegance of an opera met with the lyrics of what first appears to be a purely mundane conversation. Yet as the two continue their inquiries and insights, we soon learn that this young male engineering student and older female factory worker are diving deeper than their words first indicated on the surface.

The two discuss current issues from execution to education to abortion, all while finding new ways to link their examples back to the factory's machines. The two quarrel over which is more evil: The guillotine itself, or the human who created it—a theme which comes back into play periodically throughout the scene. In one climactical moment, Mark is told the story of Jeanne's reason for leaving school: An unplanned pregnancy. In the midst of the pair's ongoing conversation, one cannot help but compare Jeanne's story to that of the factory around her. In that moment of pregnancy, it was she who was the machine, built with the purpose to create.

Overall, this work is extremely well executed. The three dancers who shift through ever-repetitious movements expertly echo the cogs and wheels of a well-oiled machine, while alternately acting as a physical representation of Jeanne's inner emotions. Towards the end of the work, the dancers strip into nude camisoles as each sentence Jeanne sings reveals herself more and more to Mark. Perhaps the most moving moment of the entire work is when Jeanne acknowledges the three dancers for the first and only time. The three stand huddled in the nude, looking fragile and exposed, with Jeanne staring into their eyes with that same look of exposed fragility. In that moment, all became quiet for what felt longer than it likely was, yet offered so much with a single look.

However the work did offer many questions as the audience spilled out post show, and gave this critic hesitation as to whether or not the medium of "opera" was the correct choice for this elaborate work. The music—while excellent at creating a sense of unease through its grim, dissonant chords—quickly became repetitive to the point of distraction. If the goal was to make the audience feel the level of discomfort witnessed between the characters onstage, then it was certainly well done—though I would urge the composer to consider allowing the audience brief moments of reprieve, as an hour of the tedious strings made many breathe a sigh of relief when the show came to a close.

Likewise, the choice to make Mark and Jeanne's lines sung in the operatic style felt very much arbitrary. It became a hassle to read the subtitles above while simultaneously viewing the action below, and many times I heard the words "What did she say?" uttered by audience members around me. The dialogue is so cleverly written—so integral to the entire premise of the show—that I found myself wishing that the musical component could be removed, and instead presented as a play. It would allow me, as a viewer, to better engulf myself in the textual elements of the work, without the tedious distraction of the seemingly disparate music.

Still, there are moments when the soundscore does elevate the work to a whole new level, as witnessed with the drummer who emerges for the first and third acts. Similar in structure, yet striking in their simple difference, the two acts bring Mark alone to the stage, speaking about his encounter with Jeanne many years before. When the show begins, we hear Mark clearly as his words are punctuated with the staccato of the drum. Yet when he returns at the end, the drum now overtakes him. We see Mark speaking emphatically, but hear no sound from his lips, as if to say that he is "left speechless" by the encounter, and that the drum (his emotions) have overpowered him.

All in all, this production is a worthwhile visit to the theatre, and a show that will keep you thinking beyond the curtain. It leaves us wanting to know more about the characters to whom we've been freshly introduced, and looking forward to the next installment produced by these three talented companies.

Review: On These Tracks

On These Tracks by SPUNKandCOmpany Dance.
Photo: Rob Loud.

Last night I had the pleasure of viewing SPUNKandCOmpany Dance's newest performance On These Tracks. Held at Green Street Studios in Cambridge MA, the show received a full and appreciative audience.

For those in the field of dance, this performance certainly did not offer anything new, nor did it push boundaries. From costuming to choreographic structures, the show played out like a series of college composition classes, with each new piece acting as a study. Yet simplicity is not always negative, and by the end of the night, it became clear that these nine new works had engaged the audience on a quieter, more intimate level than any comp class could.

SPUNKandCO's mission behind the scenes as a "strictly collaborative" ensemble is heightened by the strong individuality encouraged of each dancer on stage. Performers Kara Fili, Jillian Grunnah, Andria LaRocco, Miriam Lundgren, and Tara McCrystal each bring their own unique qualities to the work--from body type to movement style to emotional interpretations of the work--and by the end of the night, we feel we know each of them personally as a result.

Collectively, On These Tracks benefitted from this as well. Inspired by Steven Millhauser's novella Enchanted Night featuring "quirky characters who intersect, collide, and nearly miss each other, illuminating the inherent closeness of us all," the performance offered a series of moments, and in each the characters found new ways to connect through physical and emotional intersection. With the stage set bare and wing-free, and the thought behind each new work inherently simple, On These Tracks urged viewers to relax, observe, and (for once in the world of art) to not over-think. With time, these simple scenes added up to create a whole that snuck up on us: Our own internal introspection.

Though a largely somber series, works such as Grunnah's Peek-a-Boo and Fili's Out to Play offered much-needed comedy and a breath of fresh air, keeping the overall feel of the show light and charismatic. Visual and choreographic repetition between the first and last works (Restless and Dawn, both facilitated by McCrystal) helped the show come full circle, while the sheer brevity of McCrystal's solo work Recall left the audience satisfyingly caught mid-breath. Still, it was the final work that pulled the audience inside the performance for the first time. Drawing back the curtain to reveal the theater's masquerade from its ordinary daily studio, and bringing the dancers downstage within feet of the audience, Dawn allowed us to feel intimately connected to these five characters, while even tempted to join them on their trek. Wonderfully aiding this final moment was the show's lighting designer Jon Bonner, whose lighting choices helped connect the dots beautifully throughout the evening.

In the end, if your goal as an audience member or regional presenter is to support a production pioneering new possibilities in the world of dance, On These Tracks may leave you wanting. But if you are a thinker, a reader, an onlooker, or a daydreamer, On These Tracks will offer you an outlet to put aside the theatricality of professional dance, and instead enjoy the freedom of sincerity through movement.

Learn more about SPUNKandCOmpany at their website.

Review: Chun-jou Tsai's The Dream Project

It's no small feat to fill a theater on a chilly winter night in Boston, yet Chun-jou Tsai's The Dream Project succeeded with an over-sold crowd packing the chairs and floor of Green Street Studios' modest space.

Chun-jou Tsai's The Dream Project.

The buzz of supportive excitement was palpable, met with a tinge of tender humor watching third-grade performer Jasmine Teng shakily hold a series of intricate poses pre-show. Teng, an award-winning artist in her own right, is an impressive performer at her young age. When the performance began with a distanced duet between Tsai and Teng, the two moved seamlessly with adept precision and elastic flexibility. Serving at times as a glimpse into Tsai's past, and at others perhaps her inner child, the duet set the scene for the show, and turned our focus to Tsai as its pivotal character.

The beauty, yet difficulty, of Tsai's choreographic style stems from its breath of quick staccato foot and hand gestures to its luxuriant full-bodied twists and rolls through the spine. Unfortunately, not all of the company can keep up. While all technically strong, most lacked the emotional and physical clarity that makes Tsai such an intense force on stage. Still, dancers Wisty Andres and Jorge Delgado should be commended for rising to the challenge and beautifully executing Tsai's choreography to the fullest.

There were a few aspects of the show that, in its current form, held the view back. For one, the work was disappointingly short! Despite starting half an hour late (with the audience waiting uncomfortably on the stairs at an unattended box office), the performance ended at 9:10 after a mere 40 minutes of dance. While it's true what they say "Leave the audience wishing for more," the show could have benefited from one final sequence to tie everything together, while serving up a meatier night of theatre for its viewers. The choreography, too, could benefit from a little variation and smoothing: At times, the quick tempo of all performers onstage was so uniform that it became cumbersome for the eye to follow for a ten-minute stretch; at others, the company's impressive acrobatic lifts were handled overly laboriously to the point of taking the audience out of its trance and simply worrying for the safety of the dancers. Within the larger context of the work as a whole, these are small details that with some future tweaking and caressing can easily heighten the work to the next level.

Chun-jou Tsai performing her solo in The Dream Project.
Photo: Lumyr Derisier. 

By the end of the evening there were two works which stood out the most: One, a gorgeous trio between Tsai, Delgado, and Brian Washburn (another excellent dancer who disappointingly never reappeared, even in the work's climactic closing scene); the other, a captivating solo featuring Tsai. The trio, with its intricate entanglement of detailed lifts, leaps, and limbs, was breathtaking. These three perform so well together that their bodies seem linked by an invisible force, each landing in exactly the right spot, providing just the right foothold for the next. Emotionally, the work brought to mind simultaneously an inner struggle and the need to mentally (and physically) take a moment to pause. Similarly, the solo reached a heightened level of emotional and physical endurance. Though alone on stage, Tsai's movements were mimicked, balanced, and at times surrounded by a large-scale video projection against the back wall featuring black dots of ink bleeding into unseen water. The two came together harmoniously, creating a sinuous duet with both ink and dancer spiraling through the depths of the mind.

It's not often we see such high-caliber performers and attention to detail in a debut performance such as this one. If her work continues to progress from here, Tsai promises to become another leading voice in the Boston arts scene. Special mention should made made, too, of the thoughtful costuming (Eugenia Kim), video animation (Bowie King), and lighting design (Hai Dang Nguyen) that so well complemented the movement onstage.

To learn more about The Dream Project, visit the event page.

Review: From billowing skirts to bonfires

Every once in a while, I am pleasantly provided with an abundance of opportunities to watch "the greats" perform. Over the past month, my planner boasted tickets to Bill T. Jones, the Boston Ballet, and Camille A. Brown & Dancers--all with the added pleasure of having an insightful (and equally dance-knowledgeable) viewing buddy at my side. Thanks, Kim!

It's important when watching these "greats" that we don't check our personal opinions at the door. Every viewer can take away his/her own reaction, just as every choreographer (be they world-famous or famous only to their own bedroom floorboards) has his/her triumphs and disappointments artistically on stage. Among these three productions, I found myself aware of all the above: Aware of the triumphs, aware of the disappointments, and most importantly, aware of my reactionary opinions on both.

In a nutshell, the Boston Ballet performance was at times the most disappointing, and at others the most unexpected. While the first two pieces were (as always) technically impressive with snapshot moments of visual intrigue, the choreography seemed to lack the depth many of us had anticipated. (An older woman at intermission walking by me commented to a friend "Well, disappointing, but those are the types of works the company needs to produce to keep the Board happy...") Luckily, Jiří Kylián saved the day with his mesmerizing Bella Figura. Kylián's masterful use of the curtains to shape and enhance the space alone made this work riveting to watch, as did his signature quirky (yet powerful) choreography. From billowing skirts to bonfires, this work had it all!

Jiří Kylián, Bella Figura
Photo: Javier del Real, idu.cz

Meanwhile at the ICA, this was my first encounter with the work of Camille A. Brown & Dancers, and in some ways I still do not feel fully acquainted. The evening consisted of nearly an entire selection of excerpts, giving the audience a taste, but unfortunately not the full meal. Still, what was offered was wonderfully energized, engaging, and enthusiastic, with each "entertainer" bringing a clear individual personality to the group. Despite this impressive kinetic energy between the dancers, I admittedly found the simplest piece (just Camille and a pianist) the most enthralling. Perhaps it was the simplicity itself (of the set, the space, the solo) that made this piece such a pleasure--An intimacy between musician and performer that could only be found in the subtleties of the moment.

Camille A. Brown & Dancers
Photo: berkshireonstage.com

But not unexpectedly, it was Bill T. Jones whose work transported my artistic soul to new plane. Even weeks later, I find I cannot put into words the journey undergone by the audience, but by the end of the night, it was clear that the journey had been made. Perhaps not in physical steps, but miles had been walked in my mind. At the beginning of the work, the clock in the background was a constant reminder of time passing, with myself aware of every interaction and moment, but it was not until the clock reappeared at the end of the performance that I realized how blurred those lines had become, the experience I'd had, and the beauty I'd ingested having taken in the full work with breath held and anticipation exceeded.

Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company
Photo: newyorklivearts.org

And now we are on to the next month... Looking forward to the next wave of dance!

Review: A fanciful escape...

Despite being in the arts, day in and day out, I find there are often moments when my work becomes just that...work. Now of course, every moment I spend creating is the act of diligent work and focus, but that's not quite the type of "work" I mean.

Behind every beautifully laid-out page I design for Art New England magazine are approximately 50+ emails ranging from tracking down images to editing text and working with advertisers. And for every Luminarium Dance Company production comes literally a hundred hours (for both myself and my co-director) connecting with press, updating the website, arranging plans with the venue, designing collateral...

My point in bringing this up actually doesn't come from a place of complaint, but instead from that hidden inner voice that is sometimes made quiet when the brain takes over and trumps the heart. Every moment of the artistic process is a necessary one, but as Kim and I find ourselves in the last days leading up to yet another major production, I find myself in need of artistic balance. Where has the magical side of the artistic process run off to, as we toil away with the details of our work?

For my own need of balance (and for anyone else in need of a beautifully fanciful escape) I would like to share two artists whose work I've recently come across and deeply enjoyed. There is something so ethereal, creative, and whimsical about these images... Despite the fact that they, too, must put in their fair share of work to create them, I am grateful for the escape they provide me (the viewer), as I continue to focus on the cogs (rather than the joyful beauty) of my upcoming production.

Enjoy!

"Conceptual Portraits" by Nicole Kennedy, Australia:

"Wengenn in Wonderland" by Queenie Liao, California:

Review: Beauty in Simplicity

Recently, in looking up something completely unrelated, I came across images of this art installation...and fell head over heels in love:

William Forsythe's Scattered Crowd
Image from www.lostateminor.com.

This larger-than-life installation, that changes in dynamic with each new venue, will serve as my inspiration for my work later this season. There is beauty in its simplicity here -- Not to say the concept and execution are simple, as these clearly are highly complex! -- but rather in what it all breaks down to: Let's hang balloons on different levels, and multiply that thought by a thousand.

Later this year, as a part of Luminarium's Secrets & Motion project, I would like to work with several new lighting "toys." Life-sized boxes that can be illuminating in different ways with dancers inside; flour and flash photography; and even possibly (Kim, if you're reading this, don't freak out) trampolines. In the cluttered chaos of these images lies inspiration, but also over-zealousness. I need to slow down, stop trying to piece all those thoughts and inspirations into one monstrous creature, and instead let each mental snapshot fall into its rightful place on the floor of my mind. 

Afterall, it is the simplicity within the visual complexity of this installation that I find myself most drawn to. So before I start building some giant set with dancers bouncing off trampolines, and landing in boxes full of flour (again, Kim, don't worry), I need to instead sit with each image, take from it the simple elements I find myself most drawn to, and ask myself What is it about these elements I want to share with my audience?

...and then multiply that by a thousand.

All images courtesy of www.lostateminor.com, where I first discovered this installation.