Arizona Dance Festival 203 was two full evenings of unrelenting talent, and while there were too many fine performances to mention, mention several I shall.

Step’s Junk Funk morphed into a three-some, adding in-your-face primary colors and some flavorful breaking in furtherance of Step’s continued quest for audio outrage. There were impressive duets like Blueprint with its innovative lifts, carries and intricate passes that extended the vocabulary for coupling and Contra La Corriente which entranced us with its sensual, mesmerizing Latin fluidity and teased the possibility of a longer performance.

We saw an array of ambitious, large scale, full-stage presentations including a raucous tap review from The TAPdemic Dozen who initially came across as so casual and laid-back they had no business being that blisteringly good and, finally, a return of the ABCD Bollywood Medley with its cast-of-thousands show-stopper presenting a blend of traditionally inspired Indian dance and contemporary Bollywood styling.

What Separates Signal From Noise, by Spencer Dennis really captured my attention but the ambition and the unique nature of this spoken word piece suggests that any comments be handled independent of this review.

In addition, there were several programs that I found particularly intriguing which motivated me to comment at more length.

 

The Moment We Knew

Company: Desert Dance Theatre

Choreographer: Anandha Ray

Performers: Lisa R. Chow, Renee Davis

For me, the standout performance of this event was this moving tribute to the passing of yet another pillar of the dance community, Diane McNeal Hunt. It was artfully constructed by her close friend, choreographer Anandha Ray, and beautifully performed by her artistic peers, Lisa Chow and Renee Davis.

In contrast to previous memorials which featured a solo performer, Ray constructed this as a duet, which added another entire dimension to our perception. Here, we saw grief as a shared experience, beginning with the touching moment of the first awareness of the tragedy. The whispered message onstage, without knowing its exact content, took us immediately to the crushing reality of the knock on the door, the phone call in the middle of the night. We observed the shock, felt the near-collapse and the immediate surrender of the performers into each other’s arms.

However, the real brilliance of using a duo for this piece was its ability to acknowledge that a part of the human condition are those unavoidable instances when we are left helplessly observing the grief of another who is, at that moment, beyond our ability to comfort. As the grieving performers separate, one is left more or less passive while the other engages the stage in a free-form, solo expression of the depth of her sorrow. The performers then switched roles from the helpless observer to the inconsolable grief-stricken, and in this manner, each experienced the range of emotion contained in those states. In so doing, you could observe, in isolation, the visceral reactions of both Chow and Davis who were not only expressing a personal sorrow but seemed to be tapping into a deeper historical grief, highly individual to each.

I sincerely believe that Lisa Chow was also channeling some Meryl Streep. She inhabited her character with a totality that belied her identity as a dancer – a moment-to-micro-moment consistency and intensity that wasn’t just good, it was – give this woman an Oscar, phenomenally good,

However closely or broadly she directed this piece, it was unmistakably Ray’s hand that elevated it to the heights it achieved. In my limited experience, this work now becomes part of a noble lineage of tragedy and triumph, beginning with Francis Smith Cohen’s Addio – a tribute to her departed husband which was restaged for her own passing, and Diane McNeal Hunt’s Lux Aeterna, created for Deborah Pualani Blackmon. These deeply moving performances are now joined by this masterful presentation of Anandha Ray’s The Moment We Knew – mourning, in turn, the passing of Diane McNeal Hunt.

The integrity of these works is astounding, the torch passed with clear certainty from creative peer to worthy performer. Together, they speak to the living heart of this community which may be repeatedly broken but which each, in turn, has determined will never be vanquished. We can be grateful that Anandha Ray has emerged as a keeper of that flame.

 

Ballet

In an evening composed primarily of contemporary dance performances, with all their dynamic variations, it can be a pleasant surprise, even a shock, to see a formal ballet company take the stage. For me, it was a mental palate cleanser, something that immediately reset my sensibilities, an adjustment from the free-form, anything-goes world of modern dance to the formal sensibilities of classical ballet.

We don’t see the years of rigorous training. We see only the exceptional bodies that can endure and master it when they present us with this graceful, seemingly effortless precision, melded with music into a thing of beauty. In the context of an evening such as this, there is something inherent in the contrast offered by this experience that makes the soul go ahhhhhhh.

We were treated to just such an aesthetic release both evenings from two different companies. Each company had a remarkably different approach, which only served to display the versatility of the form. I found each, in its own way, incredibly satisfying.

Storm

Company: Ballet Etudes

Choreographer: Amy Wudel

Performers: Hannah Chen, Katie May Chen, Melina Gary, Leila McWhite,
Kyrene Miller, Kadence Spanovich, Isla Springmeyer

Six ballerinas mount the stage to the sound, appropriately, of a thunderstorm. What transpires is a sort of fusion. The arms, the legs, the bodies, the costumes are ballet, and the movement has the purity of balletic training. But the choreography is interestingly other. Choreographer, Amy Wudel, has used the talent and tools of traditional ballet to construct a series of movements that feel decidedly more contemporary. In a sense, we are experiencing the best of both worlds.

It’s not a one-to-one comparison, but still it invites the speculation – “What would that essentially modern dance movement look like if performed by a trained ballerina?” The Ballet Etudes dancers, at least to my unprofessional eye, seemed to have terrific technique and it was marvelous to watch what was, to me, their obvious, precision in contrast to previous performances based on more free-form, intuitive gestures and motion.

As the configurations changed from the full company to an ensemble of four to a duo and back again, it was not just entertaining but for me revelatory. It was immediately obvious that formal does not mean stilted, and if somewhere I lost the thread of the choreography, it was because I was entranced by the inherent beauty of the movement.

Oblivion

Company: Ballet Yuma

Choreographer: Alyssa Myers

Performers: Sofia Sanchez, Maddie Kern, Ava Bowers, Seya Sanchez, Lauren Schug, Yanahi Martinez-Yee, Elizabeth Schug

Choreographer Alyssa Myers and Ballet Yuma presented us with – how can I say this? – a ballet. I mean, however constrained by the size of the company on stage and length of the piece, this was, by all measure, an actual ballet. It had costumes, an ensemble, principal dancers, multiple movements, a story line, a score – you know, a ballet. Not a novel, surely, but a sophisticated short story that felt complete and was thoroughly satisfying.

The company, opening with all dancers in ensemble, made it immediately apparent with their stylish presentation that this was indeed a formal ballet. There was something light and even a bit flirtatious in the movement, incorporating graceful turns and subtle flicks of their dresses, but as the piece evolved, it immediately became more serious. Two principles emerged and engaged in a troubled relationship, one continually reaching out to the other unsuccessfully or being actively rebuffed. The character who was pursuing the connection became increasingly disappointed, communicating what I interpreted as a sense of hurt or loss.

A solo in the brief second movement seemed to reinforce an undefined fatalism but this didn’t feel like a traditional tragedy. There was definitely a sad story arc here, but one played against a lively and lovely ensemble. Obviously focus goes to the principals, but everywhere I looked there was some gorgeous movement. The tragi/serious theme simply gave the piece weight and the overall effect was emotionally and aesthetically rewarding.

 

Traditional Indian Dance

I am intrigued by traditional Indian dance forms – their blaze of color and impossibly complicated rhythms – and I have mad respect for the intense specificity required to perform them. The growing South Asian community has provided many more opportunities to experience these performances, but I struggle to fully appreciate the cultural context in which they exist and the exotic tales they are intended to communicate. There is a bridge of language and historical culture there that I will never be able to cross, but I am always hoping for just a little more insight into the spectacle.

We had an unusual opportunity this year to see two quite different performances, even though they were both based on the same classical Bharatanatyam style. Besides the obvious entertainment value, it was a chance to do some comparison and contrast. Fortunately, we were not on our own here. Both performances featured some media support that helped to explain what was transpiring in the dance. I am simply a member of the audience, and since I am unconnected to classical Indian culture I am literally in the dark here. Believe me, I was extremely grateful for this multimedia approach and the additional level of explanation it provided and I believe the audience was as well.

Cosmic Obeisance

Company: Archana Alagiri

Choreographer: Archana Alagiri

Performer: Archana Alagiri

Archana Alagiri has graced this stage before. Last year she presented a significant program titled Motherhood – In Anticipation, a very apt title since she was a month away from giving birth. It was significant in several ways, first because she adapted a traditional work to her purpose, which allowed her piece to retain its authenticity, and secondly because the adaptation made the work more personal. The audience was presented with a message, not about mysterious gods and mythical figures but about her very human condition. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, she innovatively used projected video to describe each section of the work. Indian dance, while opaque to a western audience, is always communicating something very specific and she gave us a reference for what subject each set of movements was addressing. It was appreciated and very well-received by the audience.

In her current presentation, Cosmic Obeisance, she continues to be a be a bridge-builder between cultures with an expanded explanatory video accompaniment. In addition, she presented what I would term a medley, incorporating multiple elements from free-form dancing to a traditional representation of Shiva and then providing honorifics to the deity. Not being steeped in the culture, it would be difficult to detect these variations, but it is to her great credit that she thought to provide us with a guide to this progressive tapestry.

Archana’s beautiful presentation and her commitment to enhancing the understanding of persons outside her culture has made her work so much more accessible and therefore more appreciated by her audience.

Shivoham

Company: Charitra Sankar and Poornima Murali

Choreographer: Smt Rama Vaidyanathan
Adapted and modified by Charitra Sankar and Poornima Murali

Performers: Charitra Sankar and Poornima Murali

In my very limited experience, I have only seen performances of traditional Indian dance that consisted of small groups and solos . I have, so far, not seen a duo take the stage and because of that, I found Shivoham immediately very interesting.  Not only did this presentation have a video component but the soundtrack began with a recitation of Shiva. Subsequent images themselves, primarily stills, I believe were meant to be more inspirational than a direct reflection of the subject of the performance.

The musical accompaniment seemed to deviate slightly from traditional instrumentation with the addition of a violin, but to a western ear it seemed perfectly appropriate and, if anything, more melodic.

This may seem shallow, but because classical Indian dance is so very specific – every gesture, every glance or expression highly defined, I took some delight in closely comparing the two performers, looking for subtle differences. And while I strained at this activity (not knowing exactly what I was looking for) for the duration of the performance, my entire takeaway was that there were indeed some differences and, yes, they were very subtle. The training and discipline inherent in this form is exceedingly rigorous, and it shows. That being said, the differences I thought I recognized – an expression that was slightly more formal where the other was slightly warmer – only served to reinforce the notion that these are very human performers with individual characteristics and personalities.

I think this is an important insight for a western audience – to not get overwhelmed by the theater of it all, to see the elaborately costumed Indian dancer, not as an exotic entity, but as an actual person, addressing us, however formally, to tell a story that is as old as time.

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