"The Office", "A Wooden Tree", "Jenn and Spencer", "Crosswalk"
Mark Morris Dance Group
James and martha Duffy Performance Space
Mark Morris Dancer Center
Brooklyn, New York
April 10, 2013
by Mary Cargill
copyright © 2013 by Mary Cargill
Mark Morris presented four works in his spring season, two premieres, one older work, and one newish piece with Mikhail Baryshnikov. This is still a name to reckon with, the last of the glamorous Soviet defectors. There was nothing glamorous, though, about Baryshnikov in Morris's 2012 "A Wooden Tree", set to recordings by the Scottish musician Ivor Cutler. Baryshnikov was an equal member of a group of dancers, playing around with the lyrics of the folk-influenced songs, though he could not help dominating every scene he was in. With his haunted and haunting face, coiled energy, and explosive movement, he had an uncanny resemblance to James Cagney.
"A Wooden Tree" was often jokey, and, like many of Morris's works to vocal music, seemed at times to mimic the words such as "He poured cider insider" as dating advice (getting girls drunk works, according to Cutler). But the music had an underlying lilt and rhythm, which, when Morris echoed rather than demonstrated, the text, led to lively, intriguing and often witty dances.
"Jenn and Spencer", to a suite for Henry Cowell, was one of Morris's rare pas de deux. It featured Spencer Ramirez and Jenn Weddel (hence the title), in slightly formal attire (costumes by Stephanie Sleeper). The light purple bias gown was gloriously feminine, but Weddel was no clinging violet, as the couple was wary and at times combative, clinging and breaking free. The piercing violin (played by Georgy Valtchev) seemed to cut through the possibility of any sentimentality.
Musical sophistication is, of course, one of the constants in Morris's choreography. The other two works on the program, "The Office", to Antonin Dvorak, and the new "Crosswalk", to Carl Maria von Weber, demonstrate this so well. Both of these 19th century composers use lush, melodic rhythms, which seem to call for lush, romantic choreography. But Morris uses this music almost as a trampoline, to bounce off of, rather than a wall to lean on. He doesn't subvert or distort the traditional feel, as some arch post-modern choreographers do, he just seems to hear it in more detail, and uses the rhythms for his juicy dancing.
"The Office" has a modern, almost Kafkaesque feel, as a group of anonymous individuals sit and await their fate, signified by an ominous female official in a grey suit, who summons them one by one. The diminishing survivors dance with increased desperation to Dvorak's plangent melodies, as if the folk-influenced dances could save them. It is an odd, disturbing work.
"Crosswalk", which closed the performance, is one of his open-hearted romps. Three girls in orange Mouseketeer outfits share the stage with eight men, bounding through the music. They don't look like children, but rather like a group who have discovered the fountain of youth. Its energy and fizz make it a fine closing number, and its little grace notes make it consistently interesting.
copyright © 2013 by Mary Cargill