Twyla
Tharp at PNB: Two Fabulous World Premieres
By Rosie Gaynor
Posted
September 30,
2008
From where
I was sitting in McCaw Hall on opening night (September 25), it
looked like the dancers couldn’t wait to have a go at the
luscious movement Twyla Tharp has set on them. Pent-up
anticipation ready to burst: the dancing starts before the
music.
Twyla Tharp, during her two-month stint at Pacific Northwest
Ballet. Principal dancer Carla Körbes (left) and other dancers
look on as Tharp works with principal dancer Batkhurel Bold
(right). (Photo ©Marc von Borstel)
If it were
football, there would have been an offside flag and a penalty.
But it is Twyla Tharp and I’m guessing she’s not too concerned
with any rule book (except for, maybe, her own). Besides which,
who in
Seattle would be willing to throw a flag at Twyla Tharp? Even
Brendan Kiley from The Stranger couldn’t really, not in
the end. (His is an excellent preview article, by the way. Check
it out.) It seems to me like we’ve got a crush on this
pioneering woman who dresses like Seattle, reads like Seattle,
and has the discipline, intelligence, and passion to actually
reach idealistic goals.
The
absence of a rule book made the prospect of two Tharp
world premieres at PNB in one night particularly inviting. Would
the two new works be spastic or sublime? Vapid or dense?
Inward-thinking or outward-projecting? A pair—or two disparate
pieces?
The first,
Opus 111, is an energetic, graceful frolic to Brahms’s
string quintet. I’m off completely on the dates and styles, but
I can’t shake the sense of an 18th-century fête champêtre—especially
in the first of the four movements. The work is idyllic,
pastoral, and courtly all at once. Tharp shows her mastery with
patterns, inventions, and groupings here, and the effect is a
harmony of dance. (See in the image below:
Jodie Thomas and Lucien Postlewaite are close-but-not-quite
mirror images. Pattern with invention, resulting in harmony.)
Soloist
Jodie Thomas and principal dancer Lucien Postlewaite in Opus 111
(Pacific Northwest Ballet. (Photo
©Angela Sterling)
All twelve
of the dancers in this high-energy kaleidoscope piece looked
comfortable with Tharp’s idiom. (The piece perfectly suits
Thomas, who, for the past few years, has been breaking out of
the quick-and-technical-Bluebird-and-Fairy pigeonhole, revealing
additional reserves of strength, phrasing, and conviction.) The
cast maintains a high level of comfort even when, in the fourth
movement, the choreography goes a little kooky, gets a little
folky, and brings in some knee-slapping and flexed feet for a
fast-paced finale. This roisterous race ends with a commedia
dell’arte bow and—from the audience—roaring applause.
I can’t
wait to go again on Friday to see what I missed the first time
around. One step in particular has stayed with me. I can hear it
in the music now: Feet in parallel, knees bent, arms swinging
back and forth from loose shoulders. Try it. If you were sitting
at the edge of a pool on a hot day, swinging your legs in the
cool water, splashing, you couldn’t feel happier than that
movement.
(In answer
to the questions above…Opus 111: Sublime, dense,
outward-projecting.)
Tharp’s
second piece is much darker. Afternoon Ball plays out to
a 1994 work by Vladimir Martynov. A far cry from idyllic fête
champêtre paintings; it’s more like Munch’s Scream.
It is existential theater; it is expressionism on a shadowy,
minimalist stage.
Pacific
Northwest Ballet principal dancer Kaori Nakamura and guest
artist Charlie Neshyba-Hodges in Afternoon Ball. Fabulous
costumes by Mark Zappone. (Photo ©Angela Sterling)
There is
play and humor in this ballet, and exciting dance. Also:
anguish, angst, alienation, silliness, sexiness. There is
definitely a story; I’m just not sure what it is.
I was
content to merely enjoy the three emotional, high-style,
cavorting punks without grasping the story, until a loving,
elegant couple (1815-or-so-style dress) waltzed onto the scene.
Given this strange juxtaposition, I suddenly really wanted a
story. And so I made one up. I realize that stories with themes
like “the memory of love can bring peace” are not the point of
existentialism. But it turned out (possibly) to be the point of
the ballet: in the end, the waltz-woman saves the cold,
alienated, lonely punk. He’s dead (I think), but he does not die
alone.
Guest
artist/assistant to the choreographer Charlie Neshyba-Hodges
danced the role of the dying punk. His attitude (his? or was it
the character’s?) slipped occasionally into glibness and
showmanship, but the quality of his movement blew me away. He is
grounded but at the same time pulled-up, light when he needs to
be, solid but flexible, precise and quick. (I would love to see
him in Lambarena or in a duet with PNB’s Benjamin
Griffiths, who has some similar qualities.)
Kaori
Nakamura and Olivier Wevers play his cohorts, the former tarted
up and spunky, the latter befuddled and quirky. These
consistently effective, detailed-oriented dancers take on their
roles without reserve and make the strange movement seem to come
naturally. Ariana Lallone and Stanko Milov, the waltzing couple,
achieve a touching, simple tenderness.
(In answer
to the questions above… Afternoon Ball: Sublime, dense,
inward-thinking. Definitely two disparate pieces.)
The third
work presented in All Tharp is the popular Nine
Sinatra Songs, which premiered up in
Vancouver,
B.C., in 1982. Instead of the sighed-over chandelier that often
graces the last piece of PNB mixed-bill programs, we get a
gigantic disco ball. It, too, elicits an appreciative sigh from
the audience.
The Oscar
de la Renta costumes are gorgeous, the movements are beautiful,
Frank Sinatra swings, and the whole audience seems to go wild
during this piece. Except for me. I see the beauty and the humor
and the ingenuity, but I still have never been able to wrap my
arms around this piece. I suppose I want a little more ballet
mixed in…or if not that, then a little less ballet technique.
Ballroom dancing is for fun; being careful with it gives it a
preciousness that annoys, well, me. I do truly enjoy two of the
nine vignettes, though: the tipsy “One for My Baby (And One More
for the Road),” which captures so very well the pleasure of
staying out too late with someone you love; and the edgier
“That’s Life.” And, of course, I love that disco ball!
All in
all, All Tharp made for a fine evening. Missing—and
missed!—in action were most of the members of PNB’s corps de
ballet. (A few of them are scheduled to appear this week,
including the young Frenchman who has been with the company for
only a year:
Jérôme Tisserand.) I hope Twyla Tharp comes back to us in
Seattle.
Whether it’s with new works or pieces already in PNB’s rep:
she’ll be most welcome!
All Tharp
runs through October 5. Regular tickets are $25 to $155 at
206-441-2424 or
www.pnb.org
(Check PNB’s website for student, senior, and group discounts.)
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