Choose to Move

Author: Robert McKay

Artist-in-Resident in Dance Leyya Tawil presented two showings of her company's "Capital Life Tryptich" at the Mahaney Center for the Arts this weekend. Despite several standout moments and some mesmerizing bodies, the program failed to create or exploit dramatic tensions between the dancers and the majority of the pieces slipped into well-executed but somewhat bloodless abstraction. The program was sustained by the physical power of certain dancers and by the few moments of dramatic interaction that managed to rouse me out of my detached contemplation of Tawil's geometric choreography.

Dance Elixir's style is scripted, including many synchronized motions with dancers doubling each other on the same moves. Occasionally the repetitions made for an interesting effect, as in "Land of the Standing," during which three red-coated dancers built the same contact sequence in two different corners of the space. This gave the audience the impression of viewing the same scene from two angles. But mostly, the identical motions were about all that linked the different dancers, who seemed to move around the space on parallel tracks. As a result, moments that should crackle instead became puddled: take the pauses in "Breakdown to Now" and "Twice." The dancers stood or lay still - our eyes drawn to their rapid breathing, the quick pumping of their torsos making them look both vital and vulnerable. Though these qualities were legible in their bodies, they did not "jump off the page," remaining signified and not really felt. The reason, I think, is that while a tired body exposed so directly to the gaze can and should be both poignant and powerful, the bodies of Tawil's company had not been invested with much pathos or narrative meaning, and so when they confronted the audience during those pauses, the effect was like walking into a film at an emotional moment that is lost on you because you are missing its context.

Tawil's solos had a similar lack of narrative and drama. Just as her ensembles were short on plot and character dynamics, the solos did not establish any emotional trajectory. Instead, they broke down into a series of motions that were sometimes surprising in themselves but lacked a strong narrative or emotional through-line from one moment to the next. "Map of the World 1-6" was one of those pieces that showed Tawil's predilection for structure over drama. It was a fairly conceptual piece that dealt with the enclosure and rationalization of space. Tawil, dressed only in a gray military raincoat, enclosed herself in a giant square of red masking tape which she then applied to the floor in a poignantly awkward motion suggestive of the violence of conforming the body to mechanical tasks. Once inside her red box, Tawil's dancing picked up further hints of the theme of violence and domination, as her body went rigid and seemed to be thrown to the floor. But much of the surrounding vocabulary dissipated the power of these motions by failing to continue in their mood.

Despite the lack of an on-the-edge-of-your-seat plot development, "Capital Life Triptych" has a lot of beautiful moments. The opening, "Breakdown to Now," made interesting use of yoga vocabulary and was powerfully interpreted by Jeremiah Crank. His assertive extensions and burning focus were combined with striking effortlessness. Of the entire company, Crank's body was the most palpably suffused with his awareness. He made fluent and self-effacing use of his imposing physicality. Crank was well matched with Marlena Penney Oden, who moved with a leonine fierceness and restraint.

Crank and Oden's combination of assertiveness and clarity fit well with the sun-salute references and metallic audio-visuals in "Breakdown." Gold costumes lit by washed-out violet and yellow spots created a burnished tableau to fit the ominous metallic bells and understated digital noise of Topher Keyes' score. The music felt like a more organic, sample-based version of a Dust Brothers track and its unhurried intensity supported the dancers' sphinx-like poses.

Keyes' score continued in the same vein for "Land of the Standing" in which metallic samples like knives on a whetstone rained down amid wood percussion and jungle-like bird sounds. The choreography here was also some of the best on the program, with more interaction between the three red-coated dancers. The moves were still almost rigidly geometric, but the contact between dancers and the arrestingly sharp articulation of Erin Mei-Ling Stuart make this piece thrum with visual intensity.

The last movement of "Land" lightened the mood with colorful and inventive riffs on the raincoat form, setting the tone for an exuberant group piece. Stephen Rush's score contained some nifty polyrhythms, as well.

The final piece, "Capital Life," again highlighted Crank's athleticism and revealed the bodies of Ken Scott and the other dancers such that they were less easily upstaged by Crank's bigness. The costumes were mildly distracting, resembling some sporty custom designer's remixes of American Apparel gym clothes - some in the crowd may have been wondering how to place a bid after the show. The choreography again seemed a bit confused about its own direction - Crank could not seem to decide whether he was portraying slinkiness or aggression, though he did both very well. Tawil's eye for rhythm and repetition came into its own for a striking sequence in which the company repeatedly fell and stood up in unison, resembling an aikido class as their bodies punctuated the space in a loose phalanx.

Despite the lack of dramatic interest and the tendency toward abstract choreography, Dance Elixir is an aesthetically polished ensemble with some outstanding members. They provided a sensory experience which, if not always obviously meaningful, was persistently attractive and interesting.