Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet in "Violet Kid" | Photo by Juileta Cervantes

For a year and a half, Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet has performed almost everywhere but New York City. But from May 15-27 they are back at the Joyce Theater with two programs. They’ll feature six pieces by six different choreographers, five NYC premieres, and one world premiere.

Ana-Maria Lucaciu, one of Cedar Lake’s sixteen dancers says, “Finally we can show the city what we have been working on.”

Program A shows “Violet Kid” by London-based Hofesh Schecter, “Annonciation” by French choreographer Angelin Preljocaj, and “Grace Engine” by Canadian Crystal Pite. “[Violet Kid] has a lot of sustained aggression. It is under this constant boiling lid and is never allowed to come out.” Lucaciu says. Schecter works with images of being scolded as a child and the feeling of repressed anger, and the dancers, who are on stage for the duration, must use restraint and power simultaneously in their movement.

“Hofesh doesn’t give you a chance to scream,” Lucaciu says, “but he manages the intense feeling by exhausting you. You either can say, ‘I’ve given up’ or ‘I’ve given it all.’”

In contrast, “Grace Engine” is quieter and more internally reflective. For Lucaciu, the piece is about the linear path of life: “Everybody has a line in their life. People come in and out, but you are still traveling. You meet someone, maybe you never speak again. You meet someone else, you continue with them and maybe you drop them off again. It’s a constant journey.”

To read full article, click HERE.

This post is part of an ongoing partnership between DancePulp and Theater Development Fund. Visit tdf Stages for more information.

"Hemels" performed by Introdans | Photo Hans Gerritsen

Ballet has always held itself in a different genre, treasuring technique and choreographic innovation within that aesthetically clean framework. Prestigious visionaries like George Balanchine and Jiří Kylián found their own unique ways of transforming the classical to the contemporary, historically breaking new ground and allowing a next generation of creativity to progress and discover new ways to enrapture audiences. One of the national dance companies of the Netherlands, Introdans was met with high expectations for their US debut at the Joyce Theater. Ballet desperately needs new flag-bearers. The result this week was disappointing in its transparency.

Roel Voorintholt, artistic director of Introdans, opened with Heavenly, featuring divinity-themed revivals from three different choreographers. The first work, Fünf Gedichte (five poems), was choreographed by Nils Christe and premiered in 1996. The strategy here maintained the idea that such small modern adjustments like parallel position are enough to make ballet new. Its a safe, crowd-pleasing approach.The piece definitely felt 1996, if not older. Several duets donning matching unitards, broke up the group sections and were reminiscent of the centaur couples in Fantasia and their equally monotonous relationships. The piece begins and ends with a male soloist, wearing nothing but flesh-colored shorts doing his best Kylian impression. Spoiler alert: it’s pretty good.

The next piece, offering the 2006 work of Gisela Rocha, offered a different perspective on the company and its repertory. The simple and tired structure of Fünf Gedichte was strongly opposed by this chaotic and more experimental Paradise?. The piece, featuring everything from moving rows of overhead lights, creepy vocal riffs on “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and an unexpected tap solo, was confusing at best, annoying at worst. Unfortunately, Paradise? falls into a strange sub-genre of contemporary dance where innovation is replaced with an abundance of different media-types and sensory experiences. Decision-making is replaced by chaos.  Quality is replaced by quantity.

After intermission, the 1988 work Messiah, choreographed by Ed Wubbe, hit the stage to finish the evening. Surprisingly interesting and beautiful, Messiah was a breath of fresh air. Clean black costumes were coupled with hypnotizing white skirts, whipped about in the background.  Smart and attentive lighting design made just as big of an impact, directing the audience’s focus and successfully maintaining interest. That is, until the third hour of the piece went by (read: exaggeration).

Thankfully, Introdans offers very talented and extremely powerful dancers from all over the world. Their virtuosity and technical mastery does not go unrecognized.  If not for their devotion, I might have been tempted to depart before final curtain.

Peridance Contemporary Dance Company's Midori Nonaka

It was 1983 when Igal Perry first opened the Peridance Capezio Center and began a ballet company, the Peridance Ensemble. Since it’s formation, Perry’s ensemble has performed 50 works around the world and has seen very active seasons and some less rigorous. This coming weekend, 29 years later, the company now dances at the Salvatore Capezio Theater under a new name: Peridance Contemporary Dance Company. With the Center running like a well-oiled machine, with both established and new talents in the dance community teaching daily, Perry feels he now has the space to concentrate on PCDC and its promising members.

At a rehearsal at Peridance near Union Square, the company works to refine Perry’s latest work to Henryk Górecki’s “String Quartet # 3.” Without his instruction or prompting, the dancers go over phrases in duets and trios, correcting their own lifts and timing. Perry sits in a chair against the mirror, facing them. Soon as if by silent consensus, an official run begins and dancers have moved from casually marking movement to full extensions, balances and turns. Perry gives a few direct corrections to the group : “there, don’t spread your fingers” and “come in there earlier.” He whispers or sings sounds to give them cues for a specific movement quality. But for the most part, he lets them take ownership of what they do. He trusts them with what he has given them.

Igal Perry

Beginning with three consecutive duets, Perry’s new work seems quite balletic at first glance. The motif of hovering attitudes seems to hint at suspicion or the anticipation of something approaching. Górecki’s score is patient, but plodding. Its circular repetition is echoed in the movement composition. There are definite signs that begin to emerge of a more contemporary side of Perry’s work. Male duets, percussion, aggressive floorwork and pedestrian sections all challenge a typical ballet format. Undertones of nostalgia, estrangement and longing come through the dancers expressions. “In this piece, I explore movement that is unusual for me,” Perry tells me. “I want to go beyond boundaries that I tend to fall into…challenge my typical forms” He explains that at times in the work he deliberately works in opposition to the grain of the music, which will be performed by a live quartet at the NYC season. “When I use live music it presents its own challenges,” Perry says “It becomes a much more important element in the work.”

The program will also include Perry’s “El Amor Brujo” performed with a live Chamber Orchestra and live flamenco singer. Guest choreographers Sidra Bell and Kristin Sudeikis will also present works custom made for the company. These selections reflect long term relationships formed between Peridance’s School and its guest artist faculty. PCDC is an eclectic mix “directly inspired by whoever/whatever is happening at the time in the school,” as Perry puts it.

As an example of this mission, PCDC takes several of its dancers directly from its Certificate Program and International Student Program, where dancers may travel for an intensive period of study at Peridance. Midori Nonaka is one such dancer originally from Japan who honed skills at Peridance and now performs with the company. Other dancers formed relationships with Peridance during summer intensives, master class series or in public auditions. Many come directly from other prestigious companies such as Shen Wei Dance Arts, Lar Lubovitch Dance Company and the Merce Cunningham Dance Company.

What is perhaps most fascinating about the trajectory of this renewed Ensemble is Igal Perry himself. Known in the community for education and valued mentorship, it is exciting to see him actively back in the director’s seat. He is a powerful presence in a room because of the students he has reached and helped to grow. While many aspiring choreographers race to build a body of work and a company to perform it, it is only a handful that have also built a living home for their philosophies.

Peridance Contemporary Dance Company will perform May 5 and 12 at 8:30 PM and May 6th and 13th at 7:30 PM. All performances are at Peridance at the Salvatore Capezio Theater. For tickets visit www.peridance.com. 

Movie Poster for New Documentary "First Position "Coming May 4th 2012

First Position is a documentary tracking young ballet dancers in competition for the the annual Youth America Grand Prix.

Outsiders of the dance world often marvel at the discipline, commitment and sheer tenacity of those trying to be professionals in the business.

Dancers however, never think twice about what it takes to make it. Raised on the mantra “no pain, no gain,” they often thrive under high pressure and high expectations. To them, all this effort is common sense. If you really want it, you are singularly-focused on the pursuit of a career in dance. If you lack the passion, you quit early. It is simple.

WORTH CHEERING FOR

— Emeri Fetzer, DancePulp

First Position, a documentary tracking young ballet dancers in competition for the the annual Youth America Grand Prix never questions its subjects in the validity of their dreams. It takes a straight faced and honest approach to a life in the arts. Tomorrow when the film opens, it will have two audiences: those who question the insanity of the quest of professional ballet and those who live it daily. The reactions to the film may also be split along these lines.

First Position tells the compelling and diverse stories of 6 dancers in the running for the prestigious YAGP. We see them from their beginning preparations for regional competitions through to the grueling days of finals in New York City. Director Bess Kargman not only exhibits the unrelenting daily routine of stretching, technique class, private tutoring and variation coaching but also cleverly sneaks in bigger dance issues of economic cost, parental involvement, supposed loss of childhood and social life of dancers (or lack thereof). As in most documentaries that center around a youth competition, every kid is worth cheering for.

You might be irreversibly captured by Michaela, the 14-year-old black dancer and adopted orphan from Sierra Leone who conquered every odd along the way and still faces career doubts because of race. Or perhaps you are touched by the incredible sacrifices made by Miko and Jules’ parents to find them the best ballet training in town. You could easily be swept away in the friendship of Gaya from Israel and Aran, whose naval family relocated to Italy. You may sympathize with 17-year-old Rebecca who is exceptional, but in a league of thousands looking for the same job positions. You may wonder what it would be like to leave home for years at a time like Columbian dancer Joan Sebastian. Or you may know, because you may have done the same.

There will be two audiences: those who question the insanity of the quest of professional ballet and those who live it daily. The reactions to the film may also be split along these lines.

— Emeri Fetzer, DancePulp

Fundamentally, this film raises the same questions about the business that have been raised for decades. After all the dollars poured into training, costumes, competitions and transit how can the minimum wage salaries of dancers be justified? Should kids be trained so rigorously so early? If kids are not trained so rigorously so early will they even have a shot? What happens if a dancer gets injured and never reaches the top?

But on a more relatable level, this film is about pursuits of passion and the insanity that accompanies them. At the root of all these demi-pliés and developpes we find more common ground: support systems, mentorship, goals. In any career, these things exist. What makes professional dance unique are its statistics. Every dancer knows from the beginning that it will be near impossible to make a career from their skill. They also know that even when they are at the top, the odds for staying there are still stacked. And yet this is the equation that somehow makes it so inspiring. It is highly doubtful anyone will come out of First Position hoping they had all been businessmen, even if it seemed more sensible at first.

Go see the film. And if you can, go with a dancer.

First Position

Produced and directed: Bess Kargman
Director of photography: Nick Higgins
Editor: Ms. Kargman and Kate Amend
Music: Chris Hajian
Released: Sundance Selects
Run time: 1 hour 34 minutes

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Ballet Hispanico | Photo Eduardo Patino

Ballet Hispanico holds a great luxury in their diverse and vibrant company members.  Known for a colorful blending of classical and contemporary vocabularies with the grounded and passionate traditions of Latin dance, the company moves to further stretch boundaries with the works presented in their current season. The key to success for the evolving company lies in presenting their dancers as the athletic movers they are without losing the subtlety that draws audiences in. This balance was achieved to various degrees in Program A of their current Joyce season.

Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Nube Blanco (“White Cloud”) opened the evening with a stylized combination of rhythmic Flamenco footwork, contemporary undertones and a touch of humor. At times the search for an authentic experience feels forced with frequent verbal exclamations, but the connection between each individual is strong and compelling. A theme of self-examination crept in between pulsating rhythms of larger group sections. Perhaps this is due to Ochoa’s inspiration for the piece, noted as “childhood memories of the beautiful songs of Maria Dolores Pradera,” of whose music was featured. Regardless, it seemed there was one more step needed to take the piece beyond being well-thought out.

A treat for the noticeably more diverse audience came in a live performance by Latin Grammy winner Peruvian singer, Susana Baca. Ronald K. Brown’s, Espiritu Vivo, “explores the stages of grief after tragedy; the news, prayer, spring and new day.” While there is a clear progression both musically and choreographically, the dancers’ connections to the emotion embedded in such a subject do not translate consistently. Moments with less movement seem hurried, and a hopeful and driven tone could easily be missed if it weren’t for Baca’s heartfelt notes and the live musicians accompanying her.

Last for opening night was Artistic Director Eduardo Vilaro’s Asuka. Vilaro, who presumably knows the dancers best, created a work in which the company seemed much more comfortable. Soloist, Jessica Alejandra Wyatt, moved seamlessly with a bright and open presence that constantly draws the eye. The work was more heavily focused on contemporary strengths, and individual characters emerge with what feels like a renewed investment in the movement. Lighting, choreography, and bright, corky costuming all seem to drive the dancers upwards in performance. The clear intention found in Asuka seems to be what is lacking for the dancers in the other works. As the company steps towards a broader range of choreography, finding an approach that captures both the bold and the understated makes all the difference.

Angel Corella stars in Barcelona Ballet | Photo Erin Baiano

In 2008, American Ballet Theater star, Ángel Corella , stepped beyond the role of dancer and added Artistic Director to his resume. Now four years later, Barcelona Ballet (formerly Corella Ballet) will gain Corella’s full-time devotion when he retires from his principal role at ABT at the end of this season.

In its second visit to New York City Center, the newly renamed company looked to merge the worlds of classical ballet and traditional Spanish dance in the world premiere of Pálpito (Spanish for “hunch”). A lengthy program note tells us of “a main character who is trying to free himself from the strings that have bound him to his former role of a dancer,” naturally played by Corella who will say goodbye to American Ballet Theatre this June. But before the ballet begins, I can’t help but to worry how the dramatically written synopsis will unfurl onstage.

Choreographic duo, Ángel Rojas and Carlos Rodríguez, don’t get caught in overly suggestive mime, but instead use a score by Héctor González to incorporate the rhythms and authentic spirit found in traditional Spanish movement. The choreography is at times awkward in its transitions between classical and Spanish vocabularies and tends to be unnecessarily showy. But where the choreography lacks subtlety, the young company’s dancers create excitement with a clear hunger for the stage.

Leading the pack is Corella, whose own transition is mirrored in the work with solo moments packed with drama, explosive jumps and turns, and Corella’s signature flair. At multiple points Corella is dancing alone in spotlights with dramatic breath, percussion, and a powerful presence. Following what is clearly meant to be his time of transformation, Corella disappears behind the back panel after a musically cued glance towards the audience that seems to shout “problem solved!”

At other times the back panel serves only to reveal Vicente Soler’s bold costumes — nude dresses, lace unitards, and simpler corresponding outfits for the men. But despite the reveal of exciting new attire, the piece drags on with similar themes of flirtatious and seductive movement. We get the point long before the choreographers choose to end the piece.

Preceding the premiere, the company presents one larger work, Clark Tippet’s Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1, and Christopher Wheeldon’s For 4, originally choreographed for the Kings of Dance repertoire in which Corella was featured.

Tippet’s ballet for eight corps couples and four leading pairs is underrated in its ability to create interesting, musical patterning without an overwhelming abundance of movement. A sequence of pirouettes finishing in varied positions first appears in the blue pas de deux’s adagio and later returns for the corps that surrounds them. The grandeur of Max Bruch’s music is met with sweeping lifts and an undertone of romanticism in the featured pas de deux. Momoko Hirata stands out in the pink pas de deux with spot on balances and a vivacious stage presence. In a solo diagonal, Hirata matches every note of the score with accuracy and confidence before being effortlessly lifted by her partner, Alejandro Virelles.

In For 4, Christopher Wheeldon proves that there is value in simplicity. The piece begins in silhouette with elegant classical lines and simple transitions across the stage. Dressed in deep tones, the dancers easily tackle the technical components, but with the exception of Aaron Robison, lack the command of the original Kings of Dance cast.

With young ambitious talent and Corella’s experience, there is no reason that the company should not find a strong artistic voice. It is the choices the company makes in repertoire and new works that will either boost them to a new level or leave them stagnant.

Last Touch First | Photo Robert Benschop

In the world of film, slow motion is a no-brainer for building tension. Where slowing footage with a mouse click is simple, real people performing slow motion rarely reads as realistic and is difficult to sustain. These considerations do not strike fear but rather interest for choreographers Jiří Kylián and Michael Shumacher. In their 2008 collaboration, Last Touch First, they tackle slow motion as a tool for heightened experience and they push it to the limit. Last Touch First is a strikingly self-aware work. It acknowledges that its unique effect is only realized in the medium of live dance. When I first met the piece at the Joyce last week, I was wary of a boredom factor. When the lights went out on it, I noticed that this factor never arose.

Set in a dusky Victorian sitting room, Last Touch First is as much about ornate visual design as movement concepts. Two women are seated in the parlor, away from each other. One is reading, one staring ahead. Two men converse on a seat near the window. Another woman is standing, preparing a dinner table. The scene opens right at the moment that a third male comes through the front door to greet them all. It takes a full minute for his first step. I marvel as each character’s face changes as if frame-by-frame. I switch my focus to the standing woman pulling the tablecloth closer to her. As I fixate on her hands, I expect a flinch that is the giveaway of her effort but her measured progression is unflawed. Meanwhile, I have missed the two gentlemen now passing cards in the windowsill and now, the woman in the corner has picked up a wine bottle and glass from the side table. Even in slow motion, things can slip by.  Kylian and Schumacher are training me not only to be patient, but perceptive. They have put me in such suspense that I am keenly aware of my own pulse.

As duet partnerships are formed, dancers interactions range from absurd (balancing on a sofa chair) to violent and passionate (a woman pinned on the dining table). Subtle links in structure, such as all three women’s arms rising at once or two gentlemen falling in sync, are unexpected and visually satisfying. A rare quick action breaks the fantasy, jarring an established pace. Similarly, the haunting score by Dirk Haubrich occasionally squeals sharp and icy piano in what is otherwise a glassy wash of sound.

What only hints at haunting in the beginning spirals into full-blown ghosts.  A mirror is removed from the wall and dancers begin to carry it, reflecting its eerie light across the stage as other dancers begin to skitter around the fabric-covered floor and even rise up walls, sitting on the doorframe. One moment they seem a team and the next the energy is suspicious and untrustworthy. Soon, dancer Sabine Kupferberg meanders across the stage as if hypnotized, and the other five drag the fabric underneath her pulling her away from an exit. It seems moving forward is an impossibility in this strange realm.

This piece is characterized by maturity (both of choreographers and of this advanced cast of former Nederlands Dans Theater performers).  Each risk taken is backed up with confidence. The message is this: audiences can truly transform if they are shown the way.  They can focus on more than just five minute YouTube clips and raging Twitter feeds. The result is a buzzing lobby and a lingering feeling of awe. Even as we get up to leave the theater we are wary of moving at the speed we usually do—which means that the world of Last Touch First is not only perplexing, it’s seductive.

Sylvie Guillem in "Bye" | Photo Bill Cooper

Sylvie Guillem presents something of a conundrum for dance criticism. Typically, it’s possible to separate the dancer from the dance — to distinguish the merits of the choreography itself, from how the dancer executes it and brings it to life.

The 47-year-old Guillem has performed so many roles and styles over her long career that this would seem to be an easy task. And yet, watching her inhabit tailor-made works in “6000 Miles Away,” it was hard to imagine anyone else performing them — for she is one of those rare artists whose instrument alone expands the boundaries of what dance can express.

In the program recently staged by The Joyce at Lincoln Center, Sylvie’s instrument was in the hands of William Forsythe and Mats Ek, from whom the ballerina commissioned two original works to flank an excerpt from Jiří Kylián’s explosive “27’52”.”

For both Forsythe and Ek, classical ballet provides as much a foundation as a subject for artistic commentary. That is about where the similarities between the two choreographers end, however. Whereas Forsythe’s steely “Rearray” puts Guillem’s exceptional technique under a microscope, Ek gives it a back seat in “Bye” — a work that, best it can, portrays Sylvie as a normal human being.

“Rearray” unfolds in a series of vignettes, framed in on-and-off lighting that, like the choreography, bears little relation to David Morrow’s spacey, atonal music. Somehow, though, the strangeness of these elements suits the intentionally awkward “conversation” that Guillem and La Scala’s Massimo Murru appear to be having.

Their language is almost entirely classical in its vocabulary — arabesques, developpés, pirouettes and beaten jumps — as well as in its idioms, which include swanlike arms and spectacular balances that recall grand pas de deux from “The Sleeping Beauty” and “Don Quixote.”

Yet “Rearray” contains nothing of the romance of these ballets, thanks to the odd music, lighting and drab costumes; and its erratic pace implies unease in the dancers’ minds (however effortlessly their bodies beguile it).

The work thus serves to expose ballet’s mental and physical contortions, inevitably bringing to mind Forsythe’s seminal “In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated,” which also featured Guillem in its 1987 premiere. The fact that “Rearray” was created almost a quarter century later suggests the new work is already dated, but Sylvie’s inimitable performance gives the impression that its central artist is ageless.

If “Rearray” examines balletic forms so closely that it makes them seem alien, Ek’s “Bye” takes a distance from them, allowing the art form to appear once again as familiar, charming and even deeply human.

Like Forsythe’s piece, Ek’s is also a conversation — but as a solo, it is one that Sylvie is having with herself. It is Sylvie the ballerina and Sylvie the woman, who — thanks to the aid of an interactive film screen — variously appear to be one person, two people or some combination thereof.

Set to a contemplative Beethoven piano sonata, “Bye” has all the ingredients to be overly sentimental. For a star such as Guillem, the interplay of projection and reality is almost too obvious a theme, and a dowdy, eccentric costume does little to disguise her as an ordinary woman.

The choreography, though more whimsical and less technical than Forsythe’s, still includes sky-high jumps, ear-grazing extensions and luxuriant displays of Sylvie’s crescent-moon feet. Even in a headstand with her legs in a frog splay, it is impossible not to notice her impeccable turnout.

All this perfection could make such pretensions of plainness intensely annoying, and yet the fact that Sylvie still manages to charm reveals the real reason for her stardom. She has the passion and personality to match her enormous talent — and Ek’s work communicates this with the same irony with which its name suggests that Sylvie won’t be saying “Bye” anytime soon.

zoe|juniper in A Crack In Everything | Photo Christopher Duggan

A projected wall of leaves ripples in the wind on stage and I can already sense the visual mastery at work in zoe | juniper’s New York Premiere of A Crack in Everything at New York Live Arts.  The house lights dim and we are welcomed to a peculiar new realm, where dancers in patches of gold perform behind a giant glass wall on the front of the stage.  Zoe Scofield’s powerful movement vocabulary owns the stage behind the protective layer in front of us.  It’s an interesting new angle to see the fourth wall constructed physically.  As the show continues, it becomes increasingly clear that the audience’s perspective will remain in constant flux and rarely visit the comfort zone.

The wall is used effectively throughout the piece and Juniper Shuey’s understanding of choreographic timing and performance becomes absolutely clear.  At one point, three dancers finish a phrase and almost immediately the same phrase is projected onto the wall, but in reverse.  Ms. Scofield stabs what looks like a pencil around her fingers on the floor while a ghostly projection sits across from her, depicting the potential outcome of her frenzy.  These physical imprints play a large role in the piece as we see echoing information exchanged between the performers and their technological counterparts.  This collaboration hardly feels like two separate entities at the same time and more like a harmonious rhythm discovered between the two.

Despite all of this interesting new terrain discovered throughout the work, the pace fell flat about halfway through.  Is it possible that too much sensory stimulation was eventually numbing?  Maybe.  The more likely explanation is that A Crack in Everything held no answers to the questions it raised.

Throughout the work, whether it be Ms. Scofield tracing herself on the glass wall, a contemporary adaptation of Swan Lake’s Petit Cygnes, or a dancer making her way across stage all while clenching a red thread in her teeth, each section seems to end with the phrase, “and that’s how that happened.”  An abstract effort that seems to be a larger canvas to present ideas rather than a cohesive theme with a goal.  In pursuit of shifting perspective, then accomplishing it as soon as the lights came up, the remainder of the evening basked in the glow of constant achievement without any struggle, climax, tension or discomfort.

The only possible exception to this is one section in which Ms. Scofield and Raja Kelly undress and begin barking like dogs in a fight.  It seemed out of place with the rest of the material and felt entirely alien, but it was the very first time I felt a rush of conflict and uncertainty about what might be coming next.  So there’s room for improvement and all the tools to accomplish it.

With a better understanding of the audience’s hunger, zoe | juniper might be able to provide more than something for the eyes to chew on.  We want our heart strings plucked, our breath taken, and the edge of our seat to become our new home.

Faces from Gardenia | Photo Luk Monsaert

Many loyal dance-goers often focus their attention on performances within Manhattan and Brooklyn. But Montclair State University’s unique series Peak Performances gives us more than one reason to consider a short bus or train ride to Jersey.

This past weekend, I traveled to the Alexander Kasser Theater to see the US Premiere of Gardenia, a collaboration between Alain Platel artistic director of Les Ballets C de la B and theater director Frank van Laecke–both influenced by renowned Belgian playwright Vanessa Van Durme. Gardenia is more abstract theater piece than dance. But a close look reveals that movement is certainly at the core of this tale of transgender performers and their closing cabaret club. Platel’s trained eye for space, gesture and physicality brings a richness to a story that would be quite difficult to convey only in dialogue. From the opening scene I am most interested in the postures of the cast (all in their fifties and sixties, save one) and how they carry themselves in precise characterization. They start dressed as men in suits and slacks. Soon, they are decked out in sparkly dresses, wigs, the works. A series of frozen poses conveys the many moods, dramas and shenanigans of this unlikely family.

The tale of Gardenia is surely one of sorrow and strength. The only extended “dance” moment occurs when the young boy, actor Hendrik Lebon moves seductively and frantically through the girls who sway in place. To me, this explosion of choreography is the piece’s fulcrum: an admittance of identity. The boy struggles. Luckily, he is able to fall into the safety net of those who have discovered their sexual freedom before him. Their solidarity as a group lets us know he will be ok.

Gardenia brings the glitz of stage performance to shield the darkness of what often goes on backstage. Anyone who has worked in the business recognizes this humanity, transvestite or not.

Peak Performance’s calendar gets better in the coming weeks. Upcoming, MSU will present Israeli born but New-York based LeSaar the Company. Following LeSaar, Danceworks will feature the work of José Limón.  Tickets are inexpensive at $15, and the bus leaves right from Port Authority.

What a good excuse to get out of the big city.

For more information visit http://www.peakperfs.org.