"Soaking Wet"
West End Theater
New York, NY
October 8, 2011
by Carol Pardo
copyright ©2011 by Carol Pardo
Dancers gathered from near and far (well, as far as Providence) for this twentieth performance of "Soaking Wet," the very personal series curated by David Parker and Jeff Kazin, the duo behind the Bang Group. The generous program included two solos, four duets, two quartets, and film of a crowd. That geometric progression, almost symmetrically presented with the movie in the middle, gave the program a sense of balance, flow and cohesion.
Both solos ran the risk of being subsumed by familiarity. Both handily skirted that risk. "Winged" depicted the final moments of a large bird. Sound familiar? But dancer/choreographer Cassandra Motta’s inspiration was not a swan, all lyrical delicacy with the possibility of violence, but something larger and weightier; perhaps a great albatross. Death forced the figure lower to the ground but also further out into space as if being ground down until the bitter end. Motta, in pointe shoes (without ribbons) confined pointe work to relevés, all yearning and resistance. Sparing, lightly applied, that rush of air under her feet was a reminder that pointe work, so often taken for granted, can be magical.
Rebecca Stenn set her solo "Drinking the Sky" to Chopin’s nocturne Opus 9, no. 2, for over forty years best known to local audiences as the finale of Jerome Robbins’ "In the Night." The first few bars were stuffed with steps, as if suffocating the score into submission. Stenn did stuff her solo with borrowings from many dance forms, but blended them with the finesse of a master chef. As "Drinking the Sky" unfolded, it became clear that she also had a through line, knew exactly where it would lead, and exactly how to keep it taut and focused. That blend of delicacy and confidence made the score her own.
In "This Fire This Fire" by Jessica Morgan, four women behaved badly for far too long, perhaps in the throes of sexual frustration and its best bud gratuitous violence. The fire went out with each woman being thrown to the ground by the others, not once, which would have sufficed, but four times each, leaving the audience numb and the dancers numb and presumably bruised. But what I’ll remember most are the off-putting costumes (by Naomi Luppsec): sleeveless black dresses with knee-length skirts cut like a lattice pie crust to reveal blood red leotards. "This Fire This Fire" ended up being about color, fabric in motion, watching dancers from hip to knee (in other hands, the raw materials for a fascinating piece) and the resentment of time ill-spent.
Like "This Fire This Fire," Jordana Toback’s film "Airtight" out-stayed its welcome and cried out for a ruthless editor. Some dancers, the person directing them, the chic and blasé gathered at some watering hole were all vacuum sealed in their own little worlds. We never learned who they were or why, beyond their superficial glamour, they mattered. Nor did the possibilities of film—rhythm, speed, color, motion—reveal anything until the final moments when the camera tracked figures in motion sporting saturated colors that ran like Day-Glo gouache in the rain.
The second quartet of the evening Colleen Cavanaugh’s "Under the Bridge" played with the dynamics of two couples, but most memorably used three dancers as a bridge, with the fourth moving around and through it. The work ends with a dancer running through that bridge and across the stage, propelled by the scent of freedom. Cavanaugh also contributed a duet excerpted from her "Seaside Reverie" to the first half of the program. Two young people gambol at water’s edge on a perfect summer’s day. (She’s in chiffon, he’s in biker shorts). In context, there may be more to it, but here, the duet is pretty and bland, made memorable, given the popular music preceding it, by classical score, a Mozart sonata.
Both "F=Gm₁m₂/r2 (The Universal Law of Gravitation)" choreographed and danced by Cori Marquis and Alexander Dones and "Marry Me," excerpted from a larger works created and performed by Marta Miller and Aislinn MacMaster, used the duet form to explore the tensions and comforts of coupledom. Marquis and Dones, the younger of the two couples, were still in thrall to being in love, but just realizing that love does not necessarily conquer all. As Dones made his final exit, Marquis leaped across the stage desperate at his departure. Desperation gave way to joy as she landed on his back, content in his continued presence
Miller and MacMaster have spent more time in the trenches together. Even their costumes, girdles and long-line bras resemble body armor. They slow dance together but with all the passion of contestants in a dance marathon circa 1934. With a bench providing extra leverage, they fight for both dominance and equilibrium, never quite attaining either, never quite satisfied but loathe tolet go of each other or of the fight. In a neat bit of closure, Miller and MacMaster wrap up the show in David Parker’s "Naturally." This couple has a lighter touch and more fun, reflected in their costumes, floaty print dresses and cowboy boots. Facing each other, the two women challenge each otherin an exchange of rhythms (with an assist from the score, to excerpts from Irving Berlin’s "Annie Get Your Gun.)" Toe-tapping rhythms, absent all night, showed up just in time to end the evening on a high and happy note.