Unsteady ground: The Footprints performance at ADF
7-23-12
In recent years, ADF has offered a
performance (previously called Past/Forward) that gives its students a chance
to be a part of both new works by emerging choreographers, and the resetting of
classic repertory, such as Merce Cunningham’s Inlets 2, Jerome Robbins’ West
Side Story Suite, and Laura Dean’s Infinity. This year, the program (renamed
Footprints), features world premieres by three contemporary artists at various
stages of their careers: Helen Simoneau, Jodi Melnick, and Reggie Wilson.
Though each dance was characterized
by a different style and overall feeling, the works shared a great deal. First, all seemed to be designed to
maximize performance opportunities for the ADF dancers—the casts featured 20
dancers, give or take a few. This
made for a very full stage and the need for “crowd management.” A great deal was made of walking and
running as a transition from one section to the next; sometimes the walking and
running was the section. In large part, it appeared the
choreographers embraced this “crowdedness” as a theme. Patterns emerged: Out of the blur of
bodies, a few emerged as the focus; the large group watched as a solo or small
group danced; a single dancer cut through the unison field; the group danced or
posed together before erupting into a riot of movement, each dancer on her own.
Helen Simoneau’s all-female cast
for Paper Wings wore dark blue skirts
and shirts in shades of purple; the consistent costuming unified the group,
while the variation in hue and body type marked this as a crowd of
individuals. The work, out of
necessity or design, did not have the crispness of many of Simoneau’s other
works for smaller groups, or the precision of both large and small gesture.
Rather, this dance had blurry edges, a constantly shifting patterning rippling
through the dancers’ movements.
Though there were sharper small group moments, characterized by
Simoneau’s sensual groundedness and punctuated by more explosive bursts from
arms and legs, the images that have stuck with me involve the full group. These moments suggest images from the
natural world: the dancers pour down the diagonal into the corner, a rushing
current, and then roll back, their legs undulating in the air like
seaweed. Or, the dancers roll back
and forth over their knees, catching momentum, and working their way into a
jump, roll, and jump again. They
join up with different groups—now rolling one way, now pausing, now rolling the
other way—creating an uneven visual surface that suggests sunlight glinting
through an active sea.
Other moments did not hold my attention
as well, particularly a section in which the dancers—alone or with small
groups—walked matter-of-factly forward, then rolled into a reclining pose at
the front of the stage, freezing in a posture of semi-alertness. The raised heads, flexed feet, knees
halted in mid-fall were intriguing, but the static-ness of the section and
lengthy repetition of the idea lost my interest. There was also a great deal of purposeful watching in this
dance, but I could not find the purpose.
Sometimes the dancers watched each other, sometimes they fixed their
eyes outwards, above the audience.
As the dance ended, they looked around at each other, seeming a bit
lost, or bewildered.
The aesthetic was decidedly
quirkier in Jodi Melnick’s The Darling
Divide. For the most part,
Melnick used the group in a different way than Simoneau and Wilson. This stop-and-go dance brought us a
sparer stage, with pairs or small groups dancing, posing, and then abruptly
walking off. The sequencing seemed
almost random, with no discernable connection between the groups of
dancers. The dynamic was mostly
constant and quiet, with little theatricality in the dancers’ demeanor. Melnick did not direct the audience’s
attention to some of the more interesting moments (surely an aesthetic choice);
everything seemed to be weighted equally, and felt a little flat. I’m not usually one for theatricality,
but the dancers didn’t ask for me to care about them, and I found I
didn’t. The end did bring me in a
bit more, as the dancers jumped and caught each other, jumped and caught,
before leaving a pair of women lying on the stage, their ponytails undone. It was a moment tinged with sadness,
loneliness—the first emotional connection I felt to the work.
Reggie Wilson’s Akulalutho was the most
energetic and dynamic of the night.
His explosive movement, a fusion of African, African-American, and
contemporary styles, showcased the stamina and power of his cast well. However, the dance was a clear
demonstration of a shortcoming that all three works shared—too many ideas, and
not enough time to hone and edit them down to a strong dance. There were many potentially interesting
movement ideas in Akulalutho—enough
for a few dances, in fact. It
became tiresome to see each new seemingly separate idea added in, one more bead
on the choreographic strand.
On the whole, I found that the
concert felt a bit sprawling, a little unwieldy, without the grounding presence
of the more classic repertory works included in recent years. Not because the classic choreographers
had better things to “say,” but rather more time to shape a clearer expression
and find their balance.
The ADF season concludes with the Mark Morris Dance Group
performing July 27-28 at the Durham Performing Arts Center.
Anne Morris