Squeeze – Psophonia Dance Company

All you need is love… right?

Perhaps, but in their new work Squeeze, which was presented at Barnevelder last weekend, Psophonia Dance Company articulates we are under pressure to “need” a lot more. A big house, more stuff, the latest, greatest, and… a ShamWow? No wait, that’s the rug that is being yanked out from under our feet as poor spending habits finally catch up with us.

The show has visual and auditory appeal. Black, white, and red all over, the costuming pops with graphic prints and bright solids. Lighting designer, Jaime Melendez supports this motif with splashes of warm hues, choosing appropriate moments to cast deep shadows with stark white lighting. And the score, featuring everything from Beatles tunes to Soujla Boy and mixed by Jeremiah DiMatteo, is equally playful and fetching.

During portions of Squeeze, co-directors/choreographers Sophia Torres and Sonia Noriega are gently wagging their fingers but in a non-discriminatory way toward themselves, the powers that be, the audience. In a swipe at creditors, the evening’s ringmaster/narrator played by Toni Valle, describes the convoluted conditions upon which the audience can secure the return of their money, should they wish to do so following the performance.

But, Squeeze isn’t all about finances. There’s a smidgen of sensuality as the dancers parade onto and across the stage in a Vegasy opener. And, a touch of technology — the audience is invited to text or, for the tragically hip, “tweet” during a brief intermission. Also there’s a “healthy” dose of paranoia as a few sneezes and the threat of swinish germs undermine the dancers’ ability to connect with one another.

These big ideas, however, seem to appear and then fizzle as metaphors. There’s the tantalizing proposition that we’ve been invited to a three-ring circus, but the references disappear by Act II. There is an underutilized set piece shaped like a house. There are tomatoes begging to be squashed that remain untouched until the finale, where they meet their fate without even a squish. Torres and Noriega are tossing concepts at the audience without follow through. By the conclusion, I am not certain if they are commenting or simply caving to a deficit in attention by squeezing this many hot topics into a one-hour show.

Guest artist, Valle, well-known for her own dancing and choreography is more actor than dancer in Squeeze. She delivers convincing monologues, her strong stage presence a plus. The theatrics, however, dominate the production, sometimes eclipsing the choreography. Exceptions include a clever section in which the dancers partner orange bathmats, sliding them from place to place with their hands, feet, and other body parts, as well as the aforementioned sneeze segment. A moment, featuring  dancer Stephanie Beall, also stands out. She is revealed on a stool, pulls an imaginary chord, alters her position in darkness, and is revealed again. It is simple but effective. Torres, herself, is a welcome addition in the small ensemble. She carves broad strokes with her movement, distinctive when she appears as a soloist, but blending well with performers, Scarlett Barnes, Stephanie Beall, Naphtali  Beyleveld, and Tapley Whaley otherwise.

On opening night more than one group of late-arriving patrons was allowed to cross in front of the performers throughout the evening, even with only 5 minutes remaining in the production. This is disappointing because one would hope that on the lips of audience members, as they filter from the theatre, would be the performance itself.

Though Squeeze is inconsistent in shape and direction, it succeeds as an entertaining portrayal of current events. It does not enlighten with answers, nor does it cause deep introspection or questioning. Rather, it holds up a mirror. I recognized the image and walked away nodding.

Reprinted from Dance Source Houston

Traversing the Iberian Peninsula with Sara Draper and Dancepatheatre

Dancemakers Katherine Dunham and Pearl Primus, have notably and characteristically synthesized their investigations in movement with their study of culture and humankind. As a graduate of anthropology, Sara Draper, the artistic director of Dancepatheatre, has taken a similar approach. In her one-night-only, June 20 repertory concert, Memories of Spain, she traversed the Iberian Peninsula with postcard precision. A glimpse of the region’s ancient history, a peek at its rhythmical underpinning, a gander at its cultural temperament. Including revisited work, dance in development, and a premiere performance, the evening managed to coalesce into an enticing mosaic, depicting not only Spanish culture, but Draper’s own creative sojourns.

Leading with two recovered works, Draper gave the audience a taste of her past in El Cerrojo and The Back, a self-choreographed solo work lifted from her 2003 Life Museum series. El Cerrojo (The Door Latch) is a duet for two women set to both English and Spanish translations of the Bible’s fifth chapter of Song of Songs. The text is punctuated by compass seco (pure percussion) clapping rhythms. On this evening, dancers Lydia Hance and Joani Trevino gave strong performances, fervor rising to the surface in waves as they waited and searched together for their lover.

Sheathed in a classic but simple gown and deftly concealing her face throughout The Back, Draper’s envious dorsal musculature is on display. The Back quivers in what we might imagine is a fit of tears. Like Atlas, it bears the weight of the world. In a final, climactic image, The Back supports the wingspan of a free and ascending spirit. At first glance, the Chopin score (a sparkling rendition of Nocturne No. 2 played live onstage by Timothy Hester), and the work’s focus on physique seemed an uncertain fit for the program. However, Draper’s introspective look at the hardships and joys of womanhood, and her sensual, feminine, and unpretentious treatment of this body part was, unexpectedly, a complimentary prologue.

A tonadilla, I discovered, is literally a little ditty that was originally inserted during the entr’acte of theatrical productions in 18th century Spain.  Satirical and gossipy commentaries on Spanish life, these interludes featured singers that rose to a level of fame that would rival today’s pop stars. A collection of five short pieces in this style were utilized in a premiere work, aptly titled Five Tonadilla with Elementals. Though I had none of the above frame of reference and understood none of the Spanish lyric, these melodramatic vignettes nevertheless emerged as a charming collection.

For Draper, this was a first attempt to incorporate a classical vocalist into her choreography. Overall the blending worked. It is a challenge to put non-dancers on stage beside trained movers. For the most part soloist Shannon Langman, seemed at home with the subtle gestures and more pedestrian adaptations of the core choreography. She exhibited expert control of tone and breath even while moving toward or rising from the floor and as she fell backward in a maneuver of trust with the dancers. It was ultimately Langman that stole this performance as the symmetrical hovering of the two Elementals (again a pairing of Lydia Hance and Joani Trevino), often blended into the background.

Following an interjected flamenco suite featuring guitarist Valdemar Phoenix and dancer Ana de la Peza, were extracted solos and duets from Dancepatheatre’s ongoing project, Al Andalus! The Legend. Having feasted on a program of thumbnail dances thus far, I’ll admit I was ready to sink my teeth into something a bit meatier. I got more appetizers. Pushing this aside, however, the seven snapshots increased in their allure as the program progressed. Lydia Hance and Richard Hubscher were a technically beguiling pair. Missing, however, was the chemistry befitting two lovers. A male duet featuring Hubscher and Sterling Ramsey seemed tentative. However, standout performances concluded the program. Namely, a pre-flamenco gypsy solo performed by singer and dancer Lucia Rodriguez-Sanchez and two contrasting solos by dancer Kristina Koutsoudas. Shrouded in a black Moorish tunic revealing only her hands and eyes, and somberly illuminated according to Jeremy Choate’s design, Koutsoudas was mesmerizing as a mournful Berber princess whose tribe has been slaughtered. Equally captivating were the joyous and seductive gyrations of her hips and torso in a celebratory finale. I will be curious to see this epic work eventually complete with the transitions and continuity I craved.

In Sleep a King

There’s no questioning Michael Jackson’s influence on our current pop music and dance culture. His life was somewhat of a tragedy but his talent was a gift. So, in honor of this icon, I’m taking a moment to celebrate that gift.

A few videos.

First a collection of footage that clearly demonstrates the icon’s signature movement style and its relationship to today’s popular dance.

Second, one of my favorite Jackson tunes. It is impossible not to move when you hear a Michael Jackson song. That is the legacy within his body of work and the part of his life and career that will outlive everything else.

This song’s original music video is on YouTube and worth a watch. It is not embeddable. However, you can find it here.

“Thy self thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,

Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;

So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,

Comes home again, on better judgment making.

Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,

In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.” – William Shakespeare; Sonnet 87

Farewell, Michael!