Next Dance Festival
Cerulean Dance Theatre, Amy Crandall, Cynthia Reid, Eduardo Vilaro, and Zephyr Dance
The hard part is giving the dance a definite shape; this is the place where many choreographers fail. Gimmicks, props, and music can provide an instant identity; the Joffrey Ballet’s Billboards is much better known for using the music of Prince than it is for any of its dancing. An instant identity can be limiting, however, as any son who’s taken over his father’s business knows. Identity and shape are different; shape comes from the structure of the dance, while identity is what the dance is “about” according to the choreographer or press agent. Identity is the concept or surface of a dance; shape is its body.
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On the second of three weekends in the Next Dance Festival, it was apparent that Carrie Hanson’s Lost Castle had both a highly imaginative identity and a definite shape. Eight dancers wearing black eye shadow and lipstick are the goth ghouls inhabiting the castle of the title, represented by a rather sketchy set. As the lights come up, two dancers stare out arched windows (covered with red and green panels) hung from the ceiling while two others sit on an oversize chair and one hangs from a bar by her knees, imitating a sleeping bat. Various strange and unexplained things happen: bottles hung on hooks are passed along a rubber hose stretched across the front of the stage; the dancers take off their shirts and wash them in galvanized tin basins; they finger paint the tunics–brightly colored plastic panels on chest and back–they’re wearing under their shirts.
With Fishella’s approach, shallow, vapid dances are the risk. He almost succumbs to this danger in Cupid, Deflowered. Much of this solo, performed by Fishella himself, is mime: he plays Cupid as street hustler and go-go dancer. But during a guitar solo–the music is by Jimi Hendrix, arranged and played by Stevie Ray Vaughn–Fishella dances instead of mimes, and suddenly his rather florid concept solidifies into a clear anger that passion has been turned into cheap sex. Pure dance is what gives a piece its shape and communicates sharply and deeply. And Fishella’s Landscape of Desire III is pure dance–a romantic duet for two men (Fishella and Wilfredo Rivera). This piece sails along, from a stunningly romantic lift to entwined rolls across the floor. The push comes partly from the music: Metallica arranged for a cello quartet. Landscape of Desire III is a fine little dance, with imaginative music and a concept that’s realized succinctly and eloquently.
Michelle Kranicke of Zephyr Dance follows the same strategy as Haun–letting the dance’s shape determine its identity–but her Tissue Thin ends up thin and vague. Cynthia Reid’s Legitimate Deception is primarily a theater piece and therefore has to be judged by different standards. The script, by Karen Rosenberg, is a meditation on Harry Houdini and the meaning of his obsession with being chained; it includes the line “Intellectuals are the easiest to fool–they’re used to fantasy explanations.” Unfortunately the script is too elliptical and the actors are often hard to hear; I lost track of the plot within three minutes. Reid’s direction is the strongest aspect of the piece: she introduces a pair of dancers whose innocent playing and flirting provide a sharp contrast to the power games of Houdini and his assistant.
