Tag Archives: annabelle lopez ochoa

Pacific Northwest Ballet’s ‘New Works’

18 Mar

Spring is nearly here and my apologies for the dearth of writing! I’ve been preoccupied with poor health and finding a place to live, two things I figure should probably be higher on my list of priorities…but here I am, and ready to get back on track with a review of Pacific Northwest Ballet’s latest repertory program, ‘New Works,’ featuring David Dawson’s A Million Kisses to my Skin, Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Cylindrical Shadows, and Victor Quijada’s Mating Theory. An interesting triple bill that starts with the most balletic and deconstructs into the most modern, ‘New Works’ was cleverly devised to showcase a full spectrum of ballet that is guaranteed to please…however, the opposite is generally true for mixed bills as well in that there’s usually one that an audience member (or maybe this is just me?) will vehemently dislike. I call this “the WTF?! piece” and ‘New Works’ was no exception.

David Dawson’s work is the kind of choreography dancers absolutely love—it’s virtuosic and challenging without being unreasonably difficult. What I mean by that is oftentimes virtuosity in classical ballet demands absolute precision, longer balances, more pirouettes, and heinously difficult jumps, while Kisses asks dancers to push their bodies and technique in ways that are very athletic and yet quite liberating. You can watch Kisses and easily know that Dawson himself is a heavily trained classical dancer because the steps are ones dancers love to do and nothing about the phrasing looks unnatural. In other words, the sequence of steps always makes sense, with one being followed by another that the body wants to do, so it’s almost as if the dancers can perform Kisses without having to think (I said “almost”—it’s still wickedly difficult choreography!). Kisses was definitely a breath of fresh air, stripped to the bare essentials in simple but elegant Yumiko leotards and tights in powder blue. The cast for the Sunday matinee was absolute divinity—Carla Körbes, Lucien Postlewaite, Seth Orza, Maria Chapman, Lindsi Dec, Laura Gilbreath, Sarah Ricard Orza—and a last minute casting change had Jerome Tisserand and Margaret Mullin put in and they were fabulous! It’s a great jumping piece so of course Tisserand was perfect for it and Mullin is so tidy and expressive I loved watching them both, and I think they’re well matched as partners too (though the partnering was brief in this piece). Check out some of the rehearsal footage and commentary from the dancers:

You know, it’s interesting that Jonathan Poretta brings up William Forsythe here because I read the program notes after the piece and definitely felt there was a lot of influence from Forsythe. Not surprisingly, Dawson danced for Forsythe with Ballett Frankfurt so it makes a lot of sense—may the Forsythe be with you!

Also, check out the first movement of Kisses, as performed by the Semperoper Ballet:

ETA: PNB has now posted an excerpt of the company performing Kisses:


After the first intermission came Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Cylindrical Shadows, a piece I had seen before on Olivier Wevers’s company, Whim W’Him. Ochoa smartly chose to tweak it just a little bit, adding a few more dancers to make it suitable for the larger McCaw Hall stage (as opposed to the Intiman Theatre’s smaller venue). The results were just dandy and didn’t damage the integrity of the original piece at all, and it was quite a different experience to see Shadows again, especially from a much higher perspective (literally—like, second tier high). It has to be said that Shadows is by far one of the most genuine dances I’ve seen, in that it relies on nothing to make it exceptional—not on bravura steps, contortionistic flexibility, costumes, settings, star power…no one element overpowers another so overall the piece harmoniously maintains an incredible purity. When I first saw Shadows over a year ago I didn’t process it fully but revisiting it was like seeing an old friend. This time I took notice of clockwork motifs, with arms swinging like pendulums and even simple images like the dancers standing in a circle, evenly spaced apart. Beyond the sorrow of the piece I saw a passage of time, and how life and death are just benchmarks on the time continuum, which remains consistent even when it feels like it moves at different speeds. Just beautiful work, and PNB actually released a an excerpt on film, shot outdoors in casual clothing (I was actually supposed to advertise this better, and failed—sorry!), amazingly produced and edited by their video editor Lindsay Thomas, who creates the video segments we see on their YouTube channel, but who knew she too is an artist as a filmmaker? Her editing of Cylindrical Shadows is one of the finest, most beautiful examples of dance on film I’ve ever seen.

By process of elimination you may have figured out that Quijada’s Mating Theory was my “WTF?! piece” of the afternoon. I’m sad to say that I didn’t enjoy it at all, and was disinterested by Quijada’s unique style. It’s something of a blend, described in the program by Peter Boal as “a cocktail of many ingredients that range from classical to break dance with more than a pinch of Tharp.” I don’t know how to interpret that, but I was kind of seeing zombies…like, zombie ballet dancers trying to do some hip hop, with hunched posture and lumbering steps. I definitely didn’t get a sense that it was a style that all of the dancers were comfortable with, though it certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying. Some had a stronger grasp on it than others, but with even just a few looking awkward it’s hard to invest any belief in the work. This is where versatility gets dicey because of course that’s something ballet companies want their dancers to have, but there is a point where it becomes fitting a square peg into a circular hole, and I have to admit that for me, Mating Theory was quite the buzzkill for what was otherwise a fantastic show. It didn’t help that the music didn’t suit my tastes at all, and was rather dull and incessant. It made me feel that like zombies, the piece wouldn’t die either and I constantly found my mind wandering (always a bad sign). There was…stuff…going on…you know, the attraction between a man or a woman or something, but it was so slow, never gaining in momentum, and to be honest I just couldn’t find a desire to care. Inevitably, this is the world of art and this particular Quijada work failed to resonate with me….maybe next time? It is kind of a shame though because this was a world premiere work for PNB, always a special occasion and something you really want to look forward to, but reality dictates that expectations can’t always be met.

An excerpt of PNB performing Mating Theory:

 

So for me, ‘New Works’ may have ended on a sour note, but I don’t think this blog should, so I’d like to draw your attention to PNB’s bloopers from filming Cylindrical Shadows. If there was an award for “Funniest Ballet Company in the World” I think a celebratory cake would be well deserved for PNB.

Whim W’Him…woot woot!

15 Jan

I attended the opening performance of Seattle based company Whim W’Him’s program, Shadows, Raincoats, & Monsters (even though the actual order for the evening went Raincoats, Monsters, & Shadows!) and after previewing an excerpt of Monsters in October as a part of Men in Dance, it was a treat to see the finished product, which for many reasons looked completely different from what I remembered seeing only a few months ago.  This is where I must insert magnanimous praise for the lighting designer, Michael Mazzola—the full effect was truly astounding.  I briefly met artistic director Olivier Wevers before the show, who essentially said that he can’t imagine working with anyone else now and I can see why.  In that meeting, Olivier also jokingly asked me not to write anything mean and while dancers tackle their own set of stereotypes (i.e. in negative reactions to Black Swan) it seems as a dance writer I have a few of my own to deal with…but far from offended, I found the experience quite exciting because it makes me sense my place among the circle of dance writers as well as the dance community as a whole.  Legitimacy is awesome (and a little addictive).

My overall comments are that this is a show with an invigorating, multi-faceted appeal that is sure to relate to broad audiences.  Whether intentional or not, I was fascinated by the order of the dances themselves, which seemed to mature as the evening progressed.  The first piece, This is Not a Raincoat was the most youthful, followed by Monster, which showed a marked jump in sophisticated subject matter, and then Cylindrical Shadows displayed a mellowed, genteel character.  The journey was an artistic progression that is easily understood and showed a genuine concern for really creating a relationship with the audience (hence a well-deserved standing ovation by the evening’s end!).  What I also liked was the elementariness of the costumes, which is always something that draws more attention to the choreography itself (most effective in Monster, through the use of socks in solid, primary colors) and a distinctive style among Wevers’s two pieces.  Sometimes I find that choreographers favor saturating their works with variety in order to show versatility and/or for fear of being deemed monotonous, but I like to see some familiar movement characteristics because to me that says the choreographer is not afraid of distinguishing a unique voice.

The first piece, This is Not a Raincoat, choreographed by Wevers and performed by Andrew Bartee, Ty Alexander Cheng, Chalnessa Eames, Kylie Lewallen and Lucien Postlewaite, began with only the rhythmic sound of footsteps and swishing raincoats.  When the dancers were finally illuminated in their peach velour cowl-neck and black raincoat glory, the barriers are first made apparent, like when the dancers ran full force downstage, and came to a complete halt on relevé at the very edge.  When they shed the raincoats there was a noticeable change in mood, and sprinting off in other directions ended in smooth slides.  First of all, how one does this without completely wiping out is one feat of timing and control, but the overall impression is that the movement has no rough edges, no harshness and takes on an air of warmth and invitation.  Much of it seemed to glide just above the floor, grazing the surface occasionally and offered lighthearted, playful gestures.  It was a display of childlike spirits, of people allowing themselves to indulge in merriment, after ridding themselves of conventional expectations.  As someone who has been told on several occasions that I have the intelligence of an adult with the mind of a child, it’s a message I fully appreciate.  I wholeheartedly believe that who we were as children is the truth that we should seek as adults, because that reveals more about who we are than the things people tell us we should be.

Next came Monster in full, which began with the duet dealing with despair in homosexual relationships when disapproval rains terror upon them.  I stand by my description of the piece from the first round so I won’t rehash it (though the casting was slightly different this time, with Bartee and Vincent Michael Lopez), just know that the fluorescent lighting, provided by vertical tubes on the sides of the stage gives the dance a starkness that makes it all the more haunting and each duet is also preceded by beautiful poetic readings by hip hop artist RA Scion, which is both a wonderful collaboration between contemporary artists and informative in providing further context for the dances to thrive in.  The next duet fired immediately like an electrical current, jolting Lewallen and Cheng to life (the costumes for all of the duets were gray shirts with colored shorts and matching socks, red for the first and yellow the for the second).  Their movements were contorted and spasmodic, staying earthbound as their bodies seemed to take on a life of their own.  As if drug induced, movements were erratically initiated by any and all parts of the body, with Lewallen becoming increasingly lethargic as her life ebbed away.  At one point, Cheng was essentially manipulating her through the motions, prodding her with his leg, until eventually the addiction claimed her.  The final duet conveyed a dysfunctional and abusive relationship (with blue socks).  I should note that the reason why I keep mentioning the colored socks is because they revealed a lot of articulation of the feet, particularly in demi-pointe (stretched ankles with flexed toes), which is normally used only when standing on relevé but is instead used in many air-borne extensions of the leg in this piece, which is both unusual and eye-catching.  The work featured an incredible amount of tension between Postlewaite and Melody Herrera, pushing and pulling at each other with mixed feelings of love and contempt.  A moment of particular interest was the use of a motif from the first duet, with one dancer kneeling down, reaching out one hand to hold the other dancer up as he leaned forward, to highlight the commonalities between both homosexual and heterosexual relationships.

The last work, entitled Cylindrical Shadows and choreographed by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa was born out of news she received of a friend of hers (and dancer) who had suddenly died at a young age, and explores emotional reactions and the enduring renewal that is intrinsic to both life and death.  Four men (Bartee, Lopez, Postlewaite, Wevers) and two women (Eames, Herrera) started in a triangular formation, moving in unison as dancers would intermittently break away to dance their solos away from the group.  Ochoa created fantastic manipulations of patterns here, to make the transitions seamless while the shapes changed.  She utilized different groupings, including a lithe and weightless trio that had Eames hovering through space, and a heartrending pas de deux between Herrera and Postlewaite that I shall describe as soulful.  What interested me most was the quartet with just the men, because female ballet choreographers are far outnumbered by their male counterparts, and it was gratifyingly refreshing to see such liberated male movement from a female perspective.  With sweeping gestures of the leg and huge penchées, elegance was paramount to the overall aesthetic.  It helps that Bartee, Postlewaite and Wevers have eighty-five miles of legs between them, but the choreography speaks for itself.  Some aspects of the piece confused me at first, but I have to say that after a few hours of processing, I’m enjoying the cerebral playground.

Living up the company’s name, Whim W’Him’s Shadows, Raincoats, & Monsters will make you think, but not ask too much, in both playful and erudite queries.  The dances are loaded with texture, color and narrative but remain unfettered by unnecessary complexities.  The trick to great choreography is to have too much material and trim the excess rather than extend something of little substance, and this show is definitely the former, which leaves you craving more.  Two performances remain at the Intiman Theater, though Saturday’s performance is sold out, so I suggest you get tickets for Sunday (5:00pm) ASAP! (Purchase Tickets at BrownPaperTickets).

For more information about Whim W’Him and its dancers, visit their website at www.whimwhim.org

(Disclaimer: The title of this entry doesn’t make a lot of sense, but alliteration is fun.  Deal with it.)