Jeanne Ruddy's "Obsessions'

When violence truly offends

JIM RUTTER

Jeanne Ruddy Dance opened its “Obsessions and Expressions” with Ruddy’s earlier work, Breathless, now re-imagined and set to a new score by Ellen Fishman-Johnson. Inspired first by the drowning of a pregnant woman in Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy, the piece finds contemporary references in the similar murders of Anne-Marie Fahey, Laci Peterson and the Philadelphia suburbanite Stefanie Rabinowitz (by her stripper-obsessed husband Craig).

Breathless opens with a slow meditation on the power of seduction, showing how, early in their relationships, the intense affection between three couples can nonetheless quickly diminish. The expressive gestures of Meredith Riley Stewart suit this role perfectly: She enchants even as her husband’s attentions falter.

But as in life, the women don’t get it, and it’s not until the men start dragging them around by the hair or slapping them that love’s victims begin to fight— first for their relationships, and only too late for their lives.

Ruddy dramatizes much of this abuse through potent stop-motion movements— a leap into a lover’s arms suddenly freezes mid-flight, absorbing the intensity of the gesture like a slap to the face. The violent motions of the male dancers drip with rage, as the females respond equally before yielding to superior force, then wilting into helplessness as the men lift and carry them off to dispose of them.

A fraternity of abuse

This isn’t necessarily a subject I wanted to see turned into art. I can tolerate a murder on stage, or even the occasional male-to-female fistfight of a Tennessee Williams play. But here the violence truly offends, making half of Ruddy’s point for her. Especially disturbing: the leering smiles, back-slapping camaraderie, and high-fives of the men (particularly Hershel Horner’s terrifying performance) as they unite in a fraternity of abuse. Katharine Savage’s sensual turn with a stripper’s pole— an object later used as a weapon against her— injects one more condemnation of the lust that drains the early movements of their affection (though the music and the seamless blend of hip-hop, tango, and pole-dancing are riveting).

Yet however engrossing Breathless may be, ultimately it fails to transcend the subject matter, and the time constraints of an evening’s entertainment only intensify the story’s arc. What took months to occur in real life takes minutes here, and though Ruddy and her corps heighten the emotional impact through the dance’s visualization of abuse, the sheer artistry of the piece never forced me to confront the murders taking place on stage. At the end of Breathless, the men poetically lay their victims into watery graves— a scene that, while vivid in dance, fails to match the sheer horror of Scott Peterson stuffing his pregnant wife inside a mattress moments after killing her.

By contrast, when Euripides first staged his Medea, the play’s horrific conclusion— of a woman killing her two sons to spite a cheating husband— forcefully reminded audiences of passion’s savagery. And the crime logs of any urban newspaper reveal the volumes of domestic violence complaints today. Few of these escalate to murder, but a work of art that seeks to consecrate just three such victims must overcome the now commonplace tragedy of women who fall in love with men who abuse and later destroy them.

Explaining the unexplainable

The notes for the world premiere of German choreographer Susanne Linke’s Quasi Normal describe it as “composed of three sections, all informed by the idea that the past contains the building blocks for future works,” with a movement vocabulary inspired by “positions of the body in the Mary Wigman work Niobe, a kind of mourning-dance.” (The program contains a helpful illustration.) The second section extrapolates from “the choreographic sketches of Dore Hoyer…a follower of the Wigman branch of German expressionist dance,” and the final section finds inspiration in the “play between opposing forces: yin/yang, permanence/fleetingness, positive/negative.”

What’s the point of all this name-dropping in the explanation if a company wants to build an audience beyond dance aficionados? More important, what’s the point of giving an audience liner notes like these if a work— by itself— couldn’t equip them to enjoy the piece without instructions? (Yes, yes— an opera program contains a synopsis to help overcome the language barrier. But it rarely needs to explain the music or the singing style to the audience.)

This tack is especially puzzling when the performance itself requires no explanation. Under the guidance of guest artist Brigitta Herrmann, the corps marches in stridently, taking full advantage of the Performance Garage’s wide-open space. Wearing long, robe-like garments, the dancers move like novitiates to Hermann’s priestess, mimicking Herrmann in unison before breaking off into smaller groups. The Eastern-infused choreography then flows through striking, lightning-fast movements executed with speed and precision, creating vivid movement-centered pictures reminiscent of the arcane rites seen in a temple or dojo.

The audience gasped

All three sections require incredible power and athleticism, and the formidable former Pennsylvania Ballet principal Alexei Borovik plays schoolmaster to these younger dancers. Positioning himself on the floor, he splays out his limbs and then maneuvers himself vertically off the ground onto his left crooked knee and left crooked elbow—going en pointe on his kneecap and elbow! —causing the audience to gasp at this feat of strength.

The rest of the movements—very crisp and executed with flawless precision—look half ballet in the held poses and half martial arts in the quickness and combative style motions. In this, the Ruddy company’s Janet Pilla, with the imposing stage presence of her finely sculpted physique and magnificent fluidity of movement, looks bred to practice Linke’s expressionist technique.

Though a series of light piano keystrokes played intermittently in the background, the quick cadence of the footfalls and the sound of the dancers’ limbs and robes tearing through the air created an intoxicating music and rhythm all its own. Together, the movements and sounds mesmerized like a hypnotist’s watch, putting me into a spellbound trance for the 40 minutes of the piece.

A work about nothing at all, but…

Like a series of rituals transplanted from another culture, Quasi Normal utterly engrosses in its exoticism. Where in nature would anything move like this, and where in life is the beauty that resembles anything found in Linke’s art?

As for meaning? Who cares? Unlike performance theater (think: later Beckett) or pop sculpture (like this), this piece proves that even when a work is about nothing at all, audiences can find dance highly enjoyable and grasp it intuitively without an overload of explanation. Though Linke’s choreography lacks any consistent reference to theme, structure or logic, and only possesses an aesthetic brilliance of form predicated on a series of pure movements, her work nevertheless dazzles, captivates and ultimately conveys the feeling of witnessing something spectacular in execution.

Much as the Jeanne Ruddy corps should thank Linke for the work she created for them to perform, Linke should thank these dancers for the marvel of their flawless performance of her difficult work. It’s companies like Jeanne Ruddy Dance that give modern dance the good name it deserves.