Ballet X: Work by Booker and Neenan

I’ve long wondered what would happen if a modern ballet company didn’t provide any notes in the program. Could those in the audience discern a choreographer’s intent strictly from what they witnessed on stage? Ballet X’s fall opener— Giselle’s Room by Zane Booker, and two works by Matthew Neenan—gave me a partial answer.

At least I got a press release, which informed me that Booker intended to create a short work that “explores our attraction to the unattainable.” He set his Giselle’s Room to Meredith Monk’s New York Requiem—a good fit, as Monk’s grating voice clearly expressed my frustration.

Unfortunately, Booker’s choreography didn’t fare as well. The seven dancers in his ensemble ran from the wings to the center of the stage, performing pirouettes or leaps before quickly running off again. When they returned, they inspired a sense of longing in their striking poses and anguished expressions, and I found the classical movements quite lovely to watch, even if the entire piece lacks rigor.

Throughout, the dancers created tableaux of agony as they collapsed into one another’s arms; later, they moved in unison with their arms touching, snaking their way across the stage. This image brought to mind the universally felt frustration of desire; that, or the memory of watching elephants leading each other by the tail in the circus.

And that’s the problem. The entire piece felt like hearing poetry in a foreign language: It sounded pretty, and it even evoked emotions, but ultimately it conveyed little meaning. Booker titled Giselle’s Room after a ballet that everyone knows without offering any points of reference other than the “longing” to reconnect that anyone might feel after a young woman’s death. (Or was he referring to the unattainability of supermodel Giselle Bundchen?)

Buttressed by Meredith Rainey’s commanding performance, Tara Keating nearly saved this piece by herself; her features wracked, her movements all labored and yet still looking exquisite and strong, she almost captured Booker’s intent single-handedly. And the vision of Keating and Anitra Nurnberger lying on the floor, frozen with their backs arched upwards, like flowers stretched toward the sun, lent the piece one of its few moments of visual brilliance.

But Giselle’s Room became a “room” only in the last instants—and for that, Booker must thank lighting designer Shelley Hicklin.

A summer love affair

Even without program notes, I felt no such confusion watching the two works by Ballet X co-artistic director Matthew Neenan. The company, more accustomed to Neenan’s individual style and tone, gave superb performances of both pieces.

Neenan’s playful and innocent Duet from Cali, set to Mozart’s Adagio for String Quintet, showed a pair of dancers (Rosalia Chann and Colby Damon) moving through the early stages of a summer love affair. This graceful short piece consisted of soft, flowing paired movements, danced in synchronized movements at opposite ends of the stage.

Although Neenan complicated Colby’s dancing with the characteristic quirkiness often seen in his choreography— here quick head jerks or thigh-slaps as he leapt— for once, the weird ornamentation didn’t distract from the beauty of Neenan’s piece. Chann, decked in Martha Chamberlain’s gorgeous green and blue dress, floated across the stage in a performance filled with vitality and freshness.

Like too many of Neenan’s pieces, this one ended abruptly. In this case, however, that makes sense: Duet From Cali beautifully realized a short-lived relationship that burns out after an intense initial burst of interest and intimacy, capped by Hicklin’s water-like effect on the floor that perfectly reflected Chann’s sudden disillusionment.

Like seeing the taste of copper

Neenan’s Steelworks required no explanation whatsoever. Between Chamberlain’s rich-colored, full body-length unitards, Anna Clyne’s percussion-heavy electronic music, and the sheer visual wizardry of Hicklin’s lighting, Steelworks created a futuristic atmosphere, and the dancers, correspondingly, flowed like liquid metal across the stage. The industrial feel as the dancers explored the space felt almost metallic, like seeing the taste of copper.

Neenan’s engrossing piece meshes into this world, his dancers repeating movements in a series, one after the other, following the commands in the voice-overs of Clyne’s music. The choreography—physically abrupt and forceful yet also graceful— turns his dancers into the soul of this mechanized world, and the almost stalking ferocity of Keating, Rainey, and Emily Wagner ratchets up the intensity and futuristic feel. Neenan’s piece works best against Clyne’s faster, percussion-driven segments, though it includes a very well articulated “slow-motion” sequence as well.

Keating’s startlingly raw performance grounds the entire piece. As she lay on the stage, breathing heavily, the dancers crowded around her as if witnessing a wounded animal. In Steelworks, she proves herself capable of completely capturing emotion when it’s unattached to a character or storyline— the essence of modern dance— and of understanding the choreography and its relation to the music almost better than Neenan.

The sudden surprise ending of Steelworks reinforces the lingering sensations evoked by the piece. If all of Ballet X’s pieces could create this kind of mind-numbing entrancing world, I’d never take my eyes off the stage for even so much as a glance at the program.