“El Beso,” “Linea Recta,” “Danzón,
Ballet Hispánico
July 29, 2017
“Elvis Everywhere”
denby/donovan projects
August 12, 2017
Jacob’s Pillow, MA
by Gay Morris
copyright© 2017 by Gay Morris
Ballet Hispánico, based in New York, draws on a vocabulary of Hispanic dance from a number of countries, as well as from modern dance and ballet. It is that combi- nation of forms that defines its style and makes it unusual among contemporary dance groups. All of its thirteen-members are superbly trained, which makes them a pleasure to watch.
Photo: Ballet Hispanico in Gustavo Ramirez Sansano's "El Beso." Photo by Brooke Triolini.
The Jacob’s Pillow program consisted of three works with Latin themes, all by Hispanic choreographers. The first, “El Beso,” by Spanish choreographer Gustavo Ramirez Sansano, took as its theme kisses of different types. The choreography explored the kiss in many forms from platonic to sexual. The choreography for much of the work was quirky and angular, a little reminiscent of the dances Leonide Massine made for the Peruvian in “Gaité Parisienne.” The work depended on strict discipline among the dancers in the many fast sections included in the piece. Every beat had its step or gesture in what is sometimes called mickey mousing. Anyone a bit behind or ahead of that beat would be immediately noticed, but the dancers were up to the challenge, performing with admirable synchrony. The music, recorded for all the works on the program, consisted of various tunes from zarzuela, a popular Spanish form that is a bit like light opera.
The second work, “Línea Recta,” was by the well-known Belgian-Colombian choreographer Annabelle Lopez Ochoa. A dual commis- sion by the Apollo Theater in New York and Jacob’s Pillow, it was an odd piece, which was described in the program notes as a deconstruction of the absence of physical contact between dancers in the flamenco form. However, it appeared to be a conventional example of what in Europe is sometimes called “modern ballet,” that is a combination of modern dance and ballet, here including many acrobatic lifts. How the dance related to the absence of physical contact in flamenco escaped me, since the work included a large amount of physical contact and no tension between it and an absence of contact.
All the costumes, by Danielle Truss, were red, the men in long pants and bare chested, the women in short dresses. The exception was the central female dancer, Melissa Fernandez, who wore a dress that was short in front and long in back extending into a bata de cola, or train that often forms part of the floor length dress female flamenco dancers wear, but which in this instance was so narrow it resembled an animal’s tail. The only part of the guitar score by Eric Vaarzon Morel that bore a connection to flamenco, because it is sometimes played and danced in flamenco concerts, was Sevillanas, a Spanish folk dance that traditionally uses castanets and is not flamenco.
The last work on the program was choreographed by the company’s director Eduardo Vilaro. Titled “Danzón,” it was inspired by Vilaro’s country of birth, danzón being a Cuban form. The movement included references to jazz as well as social dance, and was a typical performance closer, with each of the dancers in turn showing off virtuosic turns and jumps. It was all good fun and ended the performance on a lively note.
Taking on complex political subject matter in a dance work is always a challenge. In “Elvis Everywhere,” denby/donovan projects dealt with the idea that the United States, once young and powerful, is now in decline. The metaphor used to convey this theme was the life of Elvis Presley, whose own rise and fall was on full public display throughout his life. That the work was only sporadically successful is no surprise; it was an ambitious undertaking and a daunting one.
Denby/donovan refers to dancer-choreographer Mark Denby and artistic director Stephen Donovan. Denby provided the most powerful moment in the work. Seated in a chair for the entire dance and wearing a gas mask and military uniform, Denby executed gestures and movements to a recording of Donald Rumsfeld narrating an anecdote about his meeting with Presley backstage at a Las Vegas casino. It was near the end of Presley’s career and he was overweight and long past his prime. Rumsfeld talks about not caring for Presley’s music, excepting a few gospel songs which he would hear on Sundays while going to church. What impressed him about the meeting was not Presley’s iconic status but the fact that the singer told him how much being in the military had meant to him. Denby’s performance was quite amazing in how, with limited movement possibilities and his face hidden, he captured in body language alone Rumsfeld’s falsely modest style, and the self-serving essence of his tale. The dance made perfect sense both in formal and aesthetic terms.
“Elvis Everywhere” is made up primarily of a series of dances to Presley hits and other pop songs for company members Chris Bell, London Brison, Colette Krogol, Frankie Lee III, Mat Reeves and Mei Yamanaka. The individual dances attempted to chronicle Presley’s rise and fall, with much of the narrative conveyed through screen images, which appeared behind the dancers, and recorded dialogue of Presley at various times in his career. Some of the dances worked well, such as a duet in which a white dancer, London Brison, as Presley, copies the moves of a black dancer, Frankie Lee III, in order to hone the hip-swiveling style that made the singer famous. It was a concise comment on race in the pop music field. There was also a rousing marching number for the company, to convey Presley’s time in the army, in which a combination of Broadway razzle-dazzle, synchronized movement, and acrobatics merged. Here the dance was able to comment on, and critique, the promotion of patriotism and the military through commercialism. Other memorable moments included a solo for Colette Krogol, that was a whirlwind of movement, and another for Chris Bell that was set to a song about the downward arc of a ghetto boy’s life.
One of the major problems with “Elvis Everywhere” came from the juxtaposition of the huge screen images, which tended to dominate the action and make the dancers look like miniature toys. The viewer’s attention was constantly drawn to the moving images and the recorded dialogue, to the detriment of the live action. An even greater issue was the subject matter, which is, perhaps, too complicated to convey in dance. How do you express Presley’s physical and mental deterioration (not to mention a country’s) when your resource is a company of healthy young bodies? The program notes mentioned that the idea for the dance piece came from comedian John Oliver, who made the comparison between Elvis and the US. The anecdote was concise and immediately clear in verbal language, but dance language is different, its power is of another sort. Nevertheless, “Elvis Everywhere” provided moments that were effective. Certainly, Denby’s invocation of Donald Rumsfeld will stay with me for some time.
Photos:
Ballet Hispanico in Gustavo Ramirez Sansano's "El Beso." Photo by Brooke Triolini.
Mark Dendy in dendy/donovan projects' "Elvis Everywhere." Photo by Brooke Trisolini.
dendy/donovan projects' "Elvis Everywhere." Photo by Christoper Duggan.