Maa: A Ballet by Kaija Saariaho
Miller Theatre, Columbia University, New York
September 22, 2010
by Tom Phillips
Copyright 2010 by Tom Phillips
Ballet dancers rarely go barefoot, but they often wear socks in class, especially at the barre, as the lack of resistance from a shoe makes sliding and pointing the foot easier. But I never saw socks on stage until the world premiere of "Maa", a new ballet choreographed by Luca Veggetti to music by Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho. I mention it at the outset because the dancers’ sliding moves, and the extraordinary pointed feet of one, were among the few interesting things to see in this portentous, pretentious, overhyped production.
The Miller is basically a music venue, and much was made of the score, which combines recorded sounds with acoustic instruments and electronic effects. According to the composer’s introduction, it's about "changes or transitions from one state to another: openings of doors and of grids, falls, coursings of water.” It includes lots of percussive pizzicato from the strings, and what sounds like an exhausting tour de force from the flutist, who seemed to be sucking as well as blowing and breathing into her instrument to produce a range of shrieks, wails and whispers.
"Maa" means earth in Finnish, and the dancers seem to be playing natural forces – not individual humans, but principles of motion and balance. They dance in pairs and groups, but on a strictly abstract level. It looked like the busy, humorless activity of birds or insects.
The dancing was excellent, especially the aforementioned arched feet of Chen Zielinski, the quicksilver moves of Spencer Dickhaus, and the rippling undulations of Frances Chiaverini. Besides sliding across the floor in socks, the main choreographic motifs were off-kilter stretches and whirls, and lots of semi-acrobatic balancing, by partners who worked beautifully together but did not seem to relate except as bodies. The most visually arresting section was one where all the dancers moved suddenly on the same musical impulse, like a flock of birds.
The musicians of the International Contemporary Ensemble played with great skill and gusto, but the overall impression was cheerless. The dominant colors were black and blue, lit in black and white. Nobody cracked a smile. There was nothing to smile about, or to get upset about either. Nobody jumped, for joy or anything else, and the evening never got off the ground.
Copyright 2010 by Tom Phillips
Photograph by Richard Termine