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Richard Alston Dance Company
The gyroscopic possibilities
of the human body
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
“I’m canceling my subscription if it’s going to be like this,” I heard an irate Dance Celebration audience member remark during intermission of a company debut performance by the Richard Alston Dance Company. Her anger over the two abstract ballets puzzled me, because Alston is one troupe that seems to have all its bases covered: If you don’t like Alston’s style of non-representational “pure dance,” you can’t help but be captivated by the company’s athleticism, breathtaking aerials, thrilling body torques and mach-speed technique.
Of course, dance audiences who look for meaning behind the movement are barking up the wrong artistic tree with a choreographer like Alston. His works are studies in the physics of dance, the architecture of the body in all its gyroscopic possibilities and— the biggest possible aesthetic offense to some— bodies interlocking, sans emotion.
Apparently she wasn’t alone in resisting Alston’s style, judging by the curiously tepid (albeit solid) applause. I’ve seen many a Dance Celebration audience pound the rafters over some pretty basic dance tricks. Was Alston casting pearls before swine? Not quite, because abstract pieces were hypnotically exhausting on every level— emotionally, artistically, and certainly athletically.
"Red Run," scored to the menacing jazz symphonia of Reiner Goebbels, is a perpetually evolving series of stark solos, duets and trios. Many of its phrases are executed with daring velocity without sacrifice to clarity. Alston’s air-slicing jumps and geometric patterns in this piece were never predictable.
In "Volumina," set to the Gyorgy Ligeti’s tidal wave organ concerto, the nine dancers build explosive rhythmic tension and tight unison work that lock them together so fast that the scene resembles a computer graphic. The lime-yellow floor fades, and the central shadowy duet calls for two men to move across the stage, unfolding into shapes with hyper-extensions, askew lifts and odd bodyscapes. This is no pretty dance display; it’s diamond-hard post-Balanchine modernism in the tradition of Nederlands Dance Theatre innovators William Forsthye and Jiří Kylián.
Perhaps the irate woman would have been soothed by "The Devil in the Detail." This number, set to Scott Joplin and with live accompaniment by pianist Jason Ridgway, provided comic and traditional relief with its pre-Charleston shuffles and moon/June duets. Actually, the troupe looked too blown out after the first two works to pump air into Joplin’s musical soufflés. Of course, the audience loved it. I wondered if the irate woman was among them or still in the lobby demanding a refund.
of the human body
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
“I’m canceling my subscription if it’s going to be like this,” I heard an irate Dance Celebration audience member remark during intermission of a company debut performance by the Richard Alston Dance Company. Her anger over the two abstract ballets puzzled me, because Alston is one troupe that seems to have all its bases covered: If you don’t like Alston’s style of non-representational “pure dance,” you can’t help but be captivated by the company’s athleticism, breathtaking aerials, thrilling body torques and mach-speed technique.
Of course, dance audiences who look for meaning behind the movement are barking up the wrong artistic tree with a choreographer like Alston. His works are studies in the physics of dance, the architecture of the body in all its gyroscopic possibilities and— the biggest possible aesthetic offense to some— bodies interlocking, sans emotion.
Apparently she wasn’t alone in resisting Alston’s style, judging by the curiously tepid (albeit solid) applause. I’ve seen many a Dance Celebration audience pound the rafters over some pretty basic dance tricks. Was Alston casting pearls before swine? Not quite, because abstract pieces were hypnotically exhausting on every level— emotionally, artistically, and certainly athletically.
"Red Run," scored to the menacing jazz symphonia of Reiner Goebbels, is a perpetually evolving series of stark solos, duets and trios. Many of its phrases are executed with daring velocity without sacrifice to clarity. Alston’s air-slicing jumps and geometric patterns in this piece were never predictable.
In "Volumina," set to the Gyorgy Ligeti’s tidal wave organ concerto, the nine dancers build explosive rhythmic tension and tight unison work that lock them together so fast that the scene resembles a computer graphic. The lime-yellow floor fades, and the central shadowy duet calls for two men to move across the stage, unfolding into shapes with hyper-extensions, askew lifts and odd bodyscapes. This is no pretty dance display; it’s diamond-hard post-Balanchine modernism in the tradition of Nederlands Dance Theatre innovators William Forsthye and Jiří Kylián.
Perhaps the irate woman would have been soothed by "The Devil in the Detail." This number, set to Scott Joplin and with live accompaniment by pianist Jason Ridgway, provided comic and traditional relief with its pre-Charleston shuffles and moon/June duets. Actually, the troupe looked too blown out after the first two works to pump air into Joplin’s musical soufflés. Of course, the audience loved it. I wondered if the irate woman was among them or still in the lobby demanding a refund.
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