Idea Man

"The Envelope," "Sleep Study," "Hand Dance," "Run To You," "Caught"
Parsons Dance
The Joyce Theater
January 29, 2011

By Carol Pardo
Copyright ©2011 by Carol Pardo

Four gimmicks and a novelty. That was the tally at the end of this plentiful program of works by David Parsons. It would be tempting attribute the choreographer’s reliance on gimmickry to youth ("The Envelope," "Sleep Study," and "Caught" date from 1984, 1987 and 1982 respectively; the company came into being in 1987). But "Hand Dance" is a product of the 21st century, premiered in 2003. In the three early works, Parsons sets up a punch line, visible from miles away, but at least he delivers the punch. By 2003 even that arc has been flattened. "Run To You," a world premiere during this run, is larger in scale and ambition, but it too delivers undersized returns.

"The Envelope" revolves around an envelope that just won’t go away. Throw it off stage, it comes right back, whether sliding out from the wings, or descending from on high. It is passed around, by hand, by mouth, by whatever means are available. But that envelope just won’t take the hint and disappear. And even when it seems to do so, guess what happens just before the black out. The atmosphere should be menacing. After all, something about that envelope is repellant. Yet the tone of this performance was light, antic, competitive, like games of musical chairs or pin the tail on the donkey at a child’s birthday party.

In "Sleep Study" Parsons has discovered a movement vocabulary worth exploring, one with which everyone can empathize, a bad night’s sleep—tossing, turning, rolling over. We’ve all been there; the state is in our bones. Seven people straggle on stage, ready to hit the hay. One guy sacks out at the edge of the stage. The others cluster together further away, their sleep anything but restful. They roll around, often over each other, like tank treads, or pile on top of each other in their efforts to get some shut eye. The guy at the front sleeps through it like the dead. The group becomes quiescent. Guess what happens just before the black out.

Nothing much happens in "Hand Dance." We are treated to ten hands moving in shafts of light on an otherwise dark stage. It’s synchronized swimming or doing the wave using only one body part. This kind of thing works better in cartoons where one doesn’t have to worry about a sleeve made visible or a hand not visible enough. Even at three minutes, "Hand Dance" wears out its welcome before it ends.

"Caught" is the piece that made Parsons’ name as a choreographer. The combination of solo dancer and strobe light is an ingenious idea, and "Caught" was performed at every performance at the Joyce. But after you’ve seen it once, what’s left? What would harm a performance more, a change of dancer or a broken strobe light?

The novelty, "Run To You," is symphonic in form, its four movements set to songs by Steely Dan. The first movement introduces the cast, executing skittering runs across the stage in harmony. The lights dim. The mood turns nasty. Gratuitous pushing and shoving are the order of the day. Tension permeates the auditorium as the violence threatens to escalate. The song comes to an end and we’re back in upbeat land, as each of the five couples gets their chance to occupy center stage and show their stuff, reconvening for a feel-good finale. But we don’t feel good. The nastiness won’t go away, yet on stage it is ignored once it’s over.

After the anonymity of "Hand Dance" and the subordination of the individual to the mound in "Sleep Study" and to the strobe in "Caught," "Run To You" should have been our chance to study each dancer individually. It didn’t happen. Does Parsons want his dancers to be anonymous? Are they numbed by a rep full of gimmicks? Only Miguel Quinones revealed himself, charismatic, focused, fluid. "Run To You" shifted into high gear at his every entrance.