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When the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater hits the road, they
bring with them a treasure-chest of choreography, from the staples, like Ailey’s
classic, 1960 piece, Revelations, to brand-new works funded by the "Ailey
New Choreography Initiative," sponsored by AT&T. With the Dance Theatre of Harlem
basically defunct now, Alvin Ailey is the de facto representative of African-American
culture, at least on the stage. Every dance is meaningful on several levels, and every
dancer is superb.
On an annual two-week visit to Berkeley, where the company performs at
the University of California’s Zellerbach Hall, the choreographic offerings were
representative of many of the top American modern dance choreographers, black and
otherwise, from the 1960’s on. Ailey’s connection, all the way back, to the work
of Martha Graham is kept alive in many pieces featuring the striking and now nearly
obsolete technique of that choreographic genius, whose work so strongly featured
floorwork, and her famous "contractions," the initiation of movement from a
nearly violent sucking- in of the abs and pelvis. Things in modern dance are a lot more
ballet-looking these days, as the money for modern choreographers is in the commissions
for big ballet companies in practically every city. There was some of that on display in
Berkeley, as well.
You’ve got to hand it to Judith Jamison, the once leading dancer
who took over the reins after Ailey’s death in 1989, and has stayed-on ever since.
She has her ego in check--not every program features a Jamison piece (her work is often
interesting thematically, but rarely choreographically). And she does an excellent job of
skating the programming line that keeps bringing in audiences (new pieces featured the
music of Stevie Wonder, Earth, Wind & Fire and Louis Armstrong) while sprinkling
legitimately "serious" stuff into nearly every program.
Vespers (1986), choreographed by Ulysses Dove, supplied
liberal amounts of woman power. Although the title implied religious content, and the
dance featured an all-female cast of black-frocked women with chairs, this was no bunch of
rapturous bible thumpers. Here, with a post-modernist movement style, featuring strong
gestural phrases, a side-facing focus and a lot of waiting, along with a driving,
percussive musical score by Mikel Rouse, choreographer Ulysses Dove was clearly more
interested in portraying the hard knock school of life over some quaint delusional
exercise about salvation.
Shining Star (2004) opened promisingly, creating a striking
image with a blast of lights (effective throughout the piece thanks to Howell Binkley)
music (R & B hits by Earth, Wind & Fire) and a tableau for the cast of ten in John
Travolta-themed disco white (costumes were by Ann Hould-Ward). What became apparent within
a matter of minutes, however, was that the slower 70’s rhythms of even the most
catchy of the group’s jazz-soul-funk hits made the creation of dynamic dancing
challenging, at least in the hands of choreographer David Parsons.
Parsons was also represented on the program with his stunning signature
piece, the solo, Caught (1982). Where this piece also featured a gimmick (strobe
lighting and black-outs isolating jumps, leaving the gorgeous dancer Clifton Brown in
mid-air for much of the piece), the gimmick effectively created something memorable. The
opposite was true in Shining Star. Either Parsons was cowed by the familiarity of
the music and its slower tempos, or the lack of tension in this happy, party scene of a
dance just didn’t press his buttons. In any case, Shining Star left a bunch
of talented dancers looking somewhat foolish, with little more to do much of the time than
stand around and vamp to some oldies. It was Saturday night without the fever.
Burlesque, (2002) by Donald Byrd, offered a more twisted music
visualization, moving back in time to present the early jazz of Louis Armstrong, but
definitely approaching things with a new-millenium, jaded/satirical point-of-view. Moving
across a row of footlights, past an elaborate red velvet curtain and all the way upstage,
to a bare, ugly wall, the dance was a vaudevillian blend of backstage and onstage, of
performance and satire. Burlesque is a quirky, sometimes static work that is rich
and inventive in theatrical detail, but much less generous in kinesthetic bounty. With
dancers clad in whorehouse fashion, bowler hats, feather boas and garter belts (the
costumes by Emilio Sosa were one of the strongest elements of the piece), Byrd seemed as
much influenced by Cabaret , Chicago and Threepenny Opera as he was by the
1920’s blues, stomps, crawls and rags that kept rolling out.
There were great opportunities for the dancers to stretch their
dramatic muscles, and the eight cast members, all luminaries from the company (including
Matthew Rushing, Glenn Allen Sims, Abdur-Rahim Jackson and Clifton Brown in some
brilliant, fleeting moments of virtuosity) were funny and crisp, every characterization as
clear as a comic-strip. Unfortunately, the ambience and bite of the piece began to wear
off after the fourth song or so. There was no development, nowhere for all this
theatricality to go. Burlesque was eight Louis Armstrong pieces, a chorus line of
eager misfits taking turns in the spotlight, and chairs, to wait on. Appropriately, the
final song was "Melancholy."
Love Stories (2004), with music by Stevie Wonder, might have
been one of those Greatest Hits-style audience favorites, rolling out song after song and
dance after dance. Instead, a total of three songs ("Fingertips," "If
It’s Magic," and "Another Star") are interspersed in a dreamy sound
collage (by Darrin Ross) that includes quotes from Ailey himself, street noise, and a
section that pulsates with the rhythms of house music and hip hop. Jamison choreographed
the opening and final moments of the piece, but brought in choreographers Robert Battle
and Rennie Harris and offered each one almost half of the artistic pie. The result, like
the company itself, is a unique blend of voices, united by the commitment and joy with
which the amazing company dancers bring to the piece.
Love Stories opens with Clifton Brown in a soft, playful,
throw-away solo, with stop and start phrasing designed to look as if he were improvising
to a Wonder song. Soon, other dancers wander on and mingle, as if getting ready to start
morning class. From here, it’s onto some competitive duets (Asha Thomas gets the nod
for her fierce dancing here and throughout the piece) and the onset of a hip hop beat.
Rennie Harris takes over as choreographer for this "street" section, and his
artistry takes street dancing and club moves and manipulates them in space to create
something that looks like the best music video ever made. Harris not only knows what to do
with rhythm and theatrical space, he knows what to do with dancers. Abdur-Rahim Jackson
and Thomas looked absolutely on fire.
Robert Battle’s chunk of Love Stories brought out the
dancers in hot-colored coveralls, as if they were aspects of a relentless sun in Alvin
Ailey’s Texas childhood. References to Ailey’s work were everywhere, in Revelations
wedges and chain-gang lines. True Ailey aficionados could have a field day playing
"name that movement." A more somber and "modern dancey" approach to
things compared to Harris’ populist, club and party moves, the section brought things
back to where they had started. Love Stories is both nostalgic and hip, it brings
things nicely up-to-date. It is a tribute to Ailey himself, (who died in 1989), but also
to the artistic health of the organization.
Berkeley, CA, March 19, 2005 - Michael Wade Simpson
