Mark Morris Dance Group - "Pepperland"

Mark Morris Dance Group in
Morris' Pepperland
Photo Frank Wing

Cal Performances presents
Mark Morris Dance Group
Pepperland
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley

May 9th, 2025

It was a Sgt. Pepper weekend. I listened to The Beatles’ 1967 recording; I watched the 1978 movie and I saw Mark Morris Dance Group’s Pepperland (2017). The original Sgt. Pepper’s record is commonly known as a concept album, meaning that the tracks have some meaningful throughline or connection. Commonalities definitely come through: there’s the notion that the songs are performed by a ‘fictional’ group of musicians, there’s mysticism and there’s plenty of drug culture lyrics and references. The movie features a surprisingly star-studded cast and who’s who of the 1970s music industry - The Bee Gees, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, Earth, Wind & Fire, Peter Frampton, Steve Martin, George Burns – and that’s about all it had going for it. Created during a very different era in filmmaking, it’s dated, strange and I’m going to leave it there.

That brings me to Friday evening and the return of MMDG to Cal Performances with Pepperland, Artistic Director Mark Morris’ homage to the Beatles and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I first saw the evening-length work back in 2018. Some seven years later, many of my initial observations held true, while others changed, and significantly so. Perhaps it was the different cast (from the bios, many of the dancers joined the company post-2018). Maybe the fact that, at that time, Pepperland was still fairly new to MMDG’s repertory. Or simply a reflection of how tastes change.

Let’s start with the consistencies. First, Elizabeth Kurtzman’s costume design. 1960s and 1970s esthetics bounded through the space. Jeweled hues and geometrics. Houndstooth, wide-headbands and aviator sunglasses. Babydoll dresses, short vests and turtlenecks. Not only were the clothes a perfect match to the piece, they were also a dream for anyone who loves that era in fashion. Second, the music, and not just the beloved Beatles’ hits. Original elements, composed by Ethan Iverson, were layered with those familiar tunes in a fresh, current and innovative way. Clinton Curtis’ live vocals - another incredible sonic element. Last, some winning Morris comedy. At the beginning, each individual character was introduced to the audience, like an old-school 80s sitcom opening. And there were plenty of humorous gestures, glances and interactions, adding additional light-heartedness to an already entertaining work.

Now to the differences. Back in 2018, I remember feeling that Pepperland’s mood, tone and physical syntax were fairly similar throughout. Kind of chill, laid-back and somewhat understated with lots and lots of walking. At this viewing, I instead noticed a great deal of dynamic range and breadth. Flying and soaring in partnered lifts. Joyful step, kick, jump sequences across the stage. Whirling locomotive phrases. Intense Graham-inspired falls with cupped hands. And of course, the raucous, twisty and deliciously creepy kick line, set to “When I’m Sixty-Four.” The mash-up of time signatures, rhythmical structures and cannoning was so inventively weird, making it impossible to look away. Pepperland still was awash in pedestrianism, but marching, prancing, running and army crawling provided variety and atmosphere. I do still think the middle section, with its mystic, hazy quality, while interesting, lasts much too long.

Mark Morris Dance Group in Morris' Pepperland
Photo Frank Wing

Let’s return to the term ‘concept album,’ where connective tissue binds parts of a whole together. That notion is definitely mirrored in Morris’ choreographic vocabulary. The sagittal tilt is everywhere in Pepperland, acting as almost a home base. We saw it in cabriole, in extension, in leaning, in slides. And that was not the only physical phrase that was ‘peppered’ throughout. Hand/arm sequences wove familiar postures and gestures through the dance’s many different chapters. Goal-post positions, flexed biceps, wave-drawing hands and airplane arms.

So, here are my takeaways from my Sgt. Pepper weekend. Reacquaint yourself with The Beatles’ album. Go and see Mark Morris Dance Group’s Pepperland if it tours through your city. Skip the movie.

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company - "Wheel"

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company in Wheel
Photo Kegan Marling

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company
Wheel
Z Space, San Francisco
May 3rd, 2025 (matinee)

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company celebrated their fifty-second season this past weekend with a new fifty-five-minute, multidisciplinary work: Wheel. Before the piece had even begun, that image-rich titled had already evoked much. Of circles, of cycles, of turning. Of journeying, of being transported somewhere new. And as the eight dancers took the stage, those visions were everywhere. 

A circular attitude turn. The leg in grand rond de jambe. Walking the perimeter of the curved performance space. Dancers unabashedly rolling on the ground with the child-like glee of a youngster rolling down a hill. The audience seated in the round. And one of my all-time favorite Graham floor exercises. Starting in a push-up position, dancers swung their legs all the way around them to return to that opening posture. 

Differing points of entrance and exit mimicked spokes of a wheel. The audio of a ticking timepiece resonated in Z Space. Mary Domenico’s costumes added a sense of flow and twirl to each of choreographer Margaret Jenkins’ phrases.

Margaret Jenkins Dance Company in Wheel
Photo Kegan Marling

The sense of journeying was abundantly present. Journeying to places of joy, connection, uncertainty and even resistance. A primal group dance of flat-footed percussion emphasized not only groundedness in the body, but a genuine connection to the earth. And the unison of that same sequence pointed to community kinship, a shared experience. A frenetic trio felt like a journey of exhaustion. Three women moved at break-neck speed, ultimately collapsing in a heap onstage. In contrast, a later ensemble statement spoke with a very different quality. The physical syntax was robotic and precise, almost militaristic. With a tone of defiance and desperation, dancers sporadically broke away from this unison, suggesting that compliance was no more. A penetrating moment for the viewer to consider social and political parallels. 

Throughout the performance, I was overwhelmed by another wheel reference. That of yoga’s fullest backbend expression, or as it’s more commonly known, wheel pose. Wheel pose is extreme; it requires flexion, groundedness and commitment. Not only a position but a process, wheel’s dramatic backbend cracks the heart and front body completely open. I definitely saw literal images of wheel pose in the choreography – extreme strength and flexion of the arms and hands as well as one actual backbend towards the end of the piece. But it was the absolute and total dedication of every dancer, artist and collaborator that conjured wheel for me. Each individual had vulnerably cracked themselves open and given everything to the work.

At close to an hour, Wheel was not too long at all. Though there were several moments in the last third that read like a finale, making the succeeding chapters feel a little out of place. And while most of the unison was solid and cohesive, occasionally it presented a challenge. 

 

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 2

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 2
Blue Shield of California Theater at YBCA, San Francisco
April 25th, 2025

Four conceptual ballets danced by one extraordinary company-what a night for Smuin Contemporary Ballet! For the final offering of their current season, Artistic Director Amy Seiwert programmed a delightful collection of tonal works that journeyed through the decades. I use the words tonal and conceptual because, while none of the pieces told a linear story, they were not entirely abstract either. Instead, each wove distinct ideas, emotions and qualities into beautiful physical works of art. And it was a gallery of gems, with the standout being the oldest work on the bill, The Eternal Idol, a sublime pas de deux choreographed in 1969 by company founder Michael Smuin.

Brennan Wall and João Sampaio in Smuin's The Eternal Idol
Photo Chris Hardy

I’ve seen Idol several times and adored every casting; opening night of Dance Series 2 was no exception. A celebration of affection, desire and passion, the charged duet is all romance, all the time. Set to a score by the most beloved Romantic era composer (Frédéric Chopin), the pas de deux begins with two dancers intertwined on a rock upstage left, inspired by Rodin’s 1893 sculpture of the same name. Costumed by Marcos Paredes in unadorned beige-toned unitards, the pair begins to share their love story through epic classical and contemporary partnering. While the movement is undeniably beautiful, the costuming plays a key role - its blank slate transforming the onstage couple into anyone and everyone. Idol told the great fictional love stories of film, television, literature and stage. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and Ophelia, Ross and Rachel, Luke and Laura. And it spoke of every real love story too. Brennan Wall and João Sampaio were superb from start to finish, avoiding the sometimes sticky and awkward moments that can arise in Idol’s complex partnering.

Costuming and choreography were also inherently linked in Seiwert’s world premiere I Remember Now, the dress evolving and adjusting along with the mood and quality onstage. A seven-part ensemble suite, Sandra Woodall costumed everyone in the same beige leotard, jeans and flowing red shirts for I Remember Now’s first chapter. An anxious opening sequence, quick circuits, sharp directional pushes and whirling concentric circles filled the stage. But that frenetic tone would soon dissipate as Sampaio entered the scene with calm and hope, and he was without the red shirt. The layer had been removed and with it, the earlier frenzy. Wall and Ricardo Dyer brought support and care to the ballet’s fourth episode, now donning denim-colored bike shorts. Their duet had such a vast openness, particularly the seated lift in second position. A section for the women was full of fierce protection. And Maggie Carey and Jacopo Calvo wore sheer black chiffon in the ballet’s finale, where a sense of deep yearning became part of the picture. 

Smuin Ballet in Seiwert's I Remember Now
Photo Chris Hardy

Rounding out Dance Series 2 were Rex Wheeler’s Sinfonietta (2016 & 2018) and Trey McIntyre’s Wild Sweet Love (2007). A lovely welcome into the performance space, Sinfonietta kicked off the evening. Danced by ten artists, spritely joy imbued every instant as did an elegant, understated quality. With a subtle white and lime green balayage, Susan Roemer’s costumes were equally unassuming. Defined as a musical form and structure that is short and simple, Wheeler’s Sinfonietta may have been short, though it was anything but simple. Subsequent sections brought choreographic breadth and range, and there was a true feeling of anticipation. Everything seemed to be leading somewhere new – floorwork ascending to partnered jumps, spins and leaps. 

In her opening remarks, Seiwert told the audience that McIntyre’s Wild Sweet Love was going to be “a wild ride,” and she was not exaggerating. Led by soloist Cassidy Isaacson, the suite was set to songs and music associated with love. But if you were expecting all sentiment and schmaltz, you were in for a surprise. And in a good way. Wild Sweet Love’s first moments were deliciously creepy. The lights came up on Isaacson in a full white tulle dress and tea-length gloves. With a stoic, menacing expression, she cycled through textbook ballet positions and steps. The unsettled-ness would continue as Mendelssohn’s wedding recessional sang through the air, the pasted-on smiles seemingly commenting on marriage itself. Similar to the other pieces in Dance Series 2, Wild Sweet Love’s tonal scope would expand and deepen. Youthful exuberance and unabashed whimsy would unfold to The Patridge Family’s 1970 hit ‘I Think I Love You.’ Barrel rolls and sparkling hands evoking explosive joy alongside Queen’s ‘Somebody to Love.’