“Leatherwing Bat”, “(serious)”, “Ma Maison”
Trey McIntyre Project
The Joyce Theater
New York, NY
June 4, 2009
By Martha Sherman
Copyright © 2009 by Martha Sherman
Who can argue with the most tuneful of Peter, Paul & Mary's folk songs for children, the rousing and soulful Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and a well-rehearsed troupe with a fine dance vocabulary? Trey McIntyre Project's New York premiere was a hard program not to like. It was charming, well danced, and very enjoyable. What it didn't do was break new ground.
Anyone who grew up in the last third of the twentieth century would have been tempted to start humming along as the curtain rose on "Leatherwing Bat." Mary Travers was plaintively singing "I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor" as a bright spot came up on Dylan G-Bowley. That moment was a close summery of the entire piece -- the strong fine dancer, the dramatic and pointedly unsubtle lighting by Michael Mazzola, and a mix of childhood memories in melody, humor, and some fear. Being swallowed, even tunefully, has an edge to it.
Several of the other songs were cast with two men and a woman, as if Peter, Paul & Mary's voices were being channeled into the graceful energies of the dancers. Visual puns, like the twirling movements that accompanied the merry maid's rings in "Song to Sing-O" kept the audience attached to the dance stories as well as the movement. The relationships of children and their parents, including a beautifully tender cradling of little Jackie Paper at the opening of "Puff the Magic Dragon" were sweetly choreographed. Sometimes those relationships were solemn (as in "Day is Done") and sometimes joyful with the right note of silliness -- the pas de six in "Goin' to the Zoo," a jumbled, happy portrait in motion. It was easy to recognize one of McIntyre's most familiar images, an elegantly outstretched leg balanced by a sharply angled opposing knee bend, a signature move either in the air or on the ground.
There were powerful trios throughout the evening, the strongest and most sustained in the second piece, "(serious)", a series of short classical movements by Henry Cowell. The woman at the center of the trio, Chanel daSilva, is an undeniable presence in the ensemble, and was joined by two excellent partners, Jason Hartley and Brett Perry. Again, crisply musical, this dance highlighted the discipline of compact DaSilva's movement. The choreography made props out of the floor, the stage wings, and body parts -- legs became gates, stage wings were leaning posts. Using acrobatic as well as balletic moves and soft sliding shoes, the solos and the group movements were both fluid and energetic.
One of McIntyre's most imaginative impulses is his contrariness about lifts. He rarely considers having a man lift a woman in a duet or partnership. That release is most often in a male duet, switching roles so the each lifts, then is himself spirited off the ground. Frequently, two partners lift a third dancer, sometimes it's a quartet, a quintet, or a sextet, mixing up how many are grounded, how many held or balanced aloft. In this program, McIntyre didn't depend on the expectation that a lift would defy (or at least combat) gravity. He leaned on gravity, plumbing its depths -- a dancer rolled to a lift cemented on a partner's thigh or back. The momentum of the movements and the physics of the choreography created the most interesting and unexpected images.
Some of the most striking visuals were in moments of stillness, not motion. The opening image of "Ma Maison" was confusing, appealing, and surprising all at once. On a blood red, darkly lit stage, an intertwined image was composed of one, two, or perhaps three figures. It was two dancers, DaSilva and Perry. The bold Mardi Gras patterns and colors of their skin-hugging costumes and hats, their own deeply flexible body intertwining, and the shocking skeleton masks that covered their faces took a few moments for the audience to sort out. We were watching a dance of the dead, both merry and dreadful and it was a very effective hook.
The varied music of the three pieces had one thing in common: driving rhythms that propelled the dance and were almost slavishly reflected in the movement. There was nothing approximate here, and almost no negotiation between the choreography and the rhythms of the music. Given the musical choices, this wasn't surprising. Children's songs have compelling beats so that kids will pound or tap along. The powerful throb of traditional New Orleans jazz seemed to have complete control of that work's pace, and the rhythms underpinning Cowell's short musical movements were executed in carefully timed beats, kicks, lifts. With less driving musical rhythms, I wondered if this company might break free; I wanted to see how their power would translate if they just let go. I was still wondering when the curtain fell on the dancers still behind masks, energetically dancing their bows in character.
Memories of childhood and premonitions of our deaths offer powerful, evocative material. There are risks still to be taken by this company and its choreographer, although the dances exuberantly evoked the laissez les bon temps roulez. I didn't leave challenged, but I did leave humming.
copyright © 2009 by Martha Sherman
Photo: Dylan G-Bowley, Lia Cirio, Virginia Pilgrim, John Michael Schert, Annali Rose, Brett Perry in "Leatherwing Bat" by Christopher Duggan
