"Carnival of the Animals"

Stanford Live presents
Carnival of the Animals
A SOZO Production
Bing Concert Hall, Stanford
October 27th, 2024

Making my way to Stanford last weekend for SOZO Production’s Carnival of the Animals, I didn’t know what to expect. On purpose, I had read very little about the show, but I was privy to a few details. First, it was a response to the hideous January 6, 2021 insurrection. Second, it was an interdisciplinary experience performed by legendary artists. And last, the musical source material was Camille Saint-Saëns’ 1886 fantasia, Carnival of the Animals. My curiosity stemmed from the fact that as a classical trained musician, I know that Saint-Saëns famously regarded his fourteen-chapter suite as rather light fare - a fun, entertaining, even whimsical, composition. How was that going to work as a frame or container for such serious and downright frightening subject matter?

Saying it worked is indeed an understatement. What transpired over one hour at Bing Concert Hall was a powerful, post-modern, political concerto of movement, music and spoken word. Episodes of dance and evocative text would take the stage, and then the work would return to two pianists and two string players for its musical ritornello. Created and written by Marc Bamuthi Joseph, choreographed by Francesca Harper and performed by Bamuthi Joseph and Wendy Whelan, the piece asked its audience to consider January 6th as a carnival of animals. To think about that horrific day through a lens of tents, creatures, jungles and zoos. The performance was miraculous. And it completely succeeded in re-contextualizing Saint-Saëns for me. With layers, textures and shocking audio clips from that day, the music completely transformed into something haunting, sinister and at times, nefarious. The score was an active cast member, a living organism, rather than a static entity written over one hundred years ago. If you have the opportunity to see this SOZO Production, go. Immediately. 

With poetic spoken word that pierced the consciousness and soul, Bamuthi Joseph was utterly transcendent. Vulnerable, real, even occasionally humorous, it was impossible not to be affected and changed by his words. The phrase ‘that’s a lie’ kept returning throughout the script, jokingly at first, but in due course, somber and penetrating. 

Carnival of the Animals
Photo Jamie Lyons

Whelan’s movement phrases evoked the natural world at every turn – avian arms, double attitude gazelle leaps, a protruding gestural beak. Much of her gait featured coordinating, rather than oppositional motion, common of many different animals. And there was one choreographic chapter that deserves special mention. Midway through Carnival of the Animals, Whelan changed into a long, black, floor-length gown. With all the aspects of a funeral dirge, she cycled through the space, mesmerizing the viewer with equal parts specificity and grief. A mourning dance for everything that died on that day.

RAWdance 20th Anniversary Home Season

RAWdance's Stacey Yuen and Juliann Witt
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello Photography

RAWdance
20th Anniversary Home Season
ODC Theater, San Francisco
October 26th, 2024

Discerning choreographic intention takes practice. And even with a lot of practice, it’s still pretty tough. Sometimes it’s obvious what a dance is about – whether it be from program notes, onstage remarks or steeped in the history of the piece. But more often than not, it’s a bit of a guessing game. Viewers weighing movement choices, score and other theatrical elements in an effort to solve the artistic puzzle at hand. This process also begs a deeper question, does it matter whether you figure out what the dancemaker intended? To some, I’m sure it matters a great deal and for a variety of reasons. Though for this audience member, I’m not sure it does. When I comment on a work, I’m sharing how I experienced a particular dance in that moment in time. While that may match the choreographic intent, it may not.  

These were the questions percolating as I took in the Saturday evening performance of RAWdance’s 20th Anniversary Home Season at ODC Theater. The collection of world premieres joined two works by co-Artistic Directors Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith with two pieces created by RAWdance collaborators. The program, Smith shared, was designed to cast a gaze on the future of the company, and it looks like the years ahead are going to be filled with joy and innovation.

Now back to choreographic intention. Social Circle, created by Rein and Smith, looked to etiquette. From the courtly gestures to careful gaits to delicate footwork, the hoop-skirted and crinoline-clad quartet were the picture of grace and elegance. The soundscore sang with instructions on how to comport oneself, dos and don’ts, and the foundational patterns of various dances. But as the piece wore on, it became clear that Social Circle wasn’t about following norms, rules and conventions, rather it battled against constraints and injected newness into a rigid system. Movements began to shift off-balance. Tempo increased from demure walking to full-out running. Heads and loose flinging hair swung back and forth. The upper body revolted as fully as was possible. 

One aspect of the score provided an additional narrative layer. Broken chords certainly repeated on a loop, although they alluded to a specific compositional format: an Alberti bass line. This type of structure, famed in eighteenth century classical music, uses broken chords to create fluidity. But in addition, it introduces a home anchor note, while allowing the other notes of the chord to shift and change. Consistency and experimentation present in the same moment – a perfect sound match for Social Circle. The quartet was also a great opener for the celebratory evening, though it went on a little long.

Refer choreographed and performed by company artists Kelly Del Rosario and Erin Yen was all about fun, camaraderie and entertainment. A non-contentious dance battle, b-boying, b-girling and breaking took center stage. Each had a turn showcasing their own robotic, angular and occasionally inverted movement, but they were also learning and copying each other. It was a dynamic, physical conversation and it was just terrific. 

Up next was Good Grief, a quartet from Nick Wagner and Stacey Yuen that began with a decidedly sacred, ritualistic tone. Dressed in drapey beige costuming, long embraces, bows and grounded rolls and spins imbued the early phrase material. Dancers leaned into each other and contracted in reaction to stimuli and impulses. Arms moved in a swinging pattern, only to be interrupted by body percussion. Unison played a huge role, though canon made an appearance as well. And the end of the work featured the addition of water, which again felt both ritualistic and cleansing. Good Grief was enjoyable and well-executed, though I don’t know if it defined itself enough from other modern dance compositions, at least for this viewer.

Off to a party-filled excursion with Rein and Smith’s second premiere, Escape, a group work for five set to a beachy soundscore complete with seagulls. Slowly, methodically and choreographically, the cast broke out of their business attire to reveal vacation leisurewear. As each shed their day-to-day skin, they were lifted into the air, seemingly taking flight away from the grind. A poolside quintet unfolded, full of recognizable gestures, like cleaning sunglasses. Beach towels evolved into active dance partners, facilitating sliding and spinning. But Escape wasn’t all party party. A tender mirroring sequence spoke to ‘being seen.’ One solo felt steeped in solitude and loneliness. And a children’s copying game, which began in fun, took a mean, rather nefarious turn. 

Escape was a work of Dance Theater, combining movement, scenework, props, costumes and sound. And because of that lens, it felt like it needed a bigger, or maybe just different, venue than the ODC Theater. I could imagine a big open space: piles of sand everywhere, deck chairs for the audience, bird-like figures suspended from the ceiling. I hope the company continues developing Escape - it has good bones.

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 1

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 1
Cowell Theater at Fort Mason, San Francisco
October 11th, 2024

A stage awash in glowing gold. Song lyrics that reference “October’s able skies.” Dance architecture that conjured falling, scattering leaves. If ever there was a program that screamed Autumn, it is Smuin Ballet’s 2024 edition of Dance Series 1. Under the Artistic Direction of Amy Seiwert, the company glided into Fort Mason’s Cowell Theater on Friday night to open the San Francisco leg of their recent Bay Area tour. Before a packed house, the troupe offered a dynamic triple bill of contemporary ballet: the world premiere of Jennifer Archibald’s ByCHANCE, the company debut of Matthew Neenan’s The Last Glass (2010) and a re-engagement with Seiwert’s 2019 Renaissance. While I had my favorite amongst the three works, there is no denying that the entire program was quite dazzling. And the company, some of whom danced in all three pieces, looked totally on top of their game. A terrific start to a new season!

Smuin Ballet in Archibald's ByCHANCE
Photo Chris Hardy

In her welcoming remarks, Seiwert shared that Archibald’s ByCHANCE (which was created on the Smuin artists) was inspired by the chance encounters that we experience throughout life. As the ensemble work for eight unfolded, that throughline was definitely at play. Dancers entered and exited the space, meeting center stage for a conversation, albeit one without words. Mirroring human existence, some of those conversations were long, others short. Some were casual, others passionate. Some interactions were joyful, others melancholic. Some very temporary, others much more permanent. 

Choreographically, intense speed contrasted with moments of unrestrained quiet. Lifts soared through the air. Arms undulated and gestural sequences brought a sharp, staccato articulation to the table. Phrases flowed effortlessly from one to another, with an almost sculptural-like, fluid motion. 

While it may not have been the choreographic intent, I also saw something deeply organic and basal running through ByCHANCE. Reminiscent of the natural world in tone. Dancers cascaded in and out of the wings like whirling leaves. At other times, it seemed like we were peeking under a microscope at cells adhering together to form something new, only for that new entity to dissolve. Those large group pictures manifested, then broke apart, over and over again. It was mesmerizing and provided an unexpected textural layer to the work.

My first impression of Neenan’s The Last Glass was a wild party with an even wilder guest list. The hopeful ingenue. A tortured Elizabethan heroine. Flirty Moulin Rouge dancers. A couple brimming with equal parts volatility and passion. And in each of the subsequent solos, duets, trios and group sequences, all set to a score by Beirut, each guest had ample opportunity to reveal their persona. Neenan’s choreographic syntax similarly ran the gamut from classical petit allegro to percussive variations to jazzy barrel rolls and axles. With a nod to yoga practices, an accumulation phrase flowed breath to movement. Social line dances were aplenty; there was even a tipsy pseudo-limbo. If there had been additional theatrical elements (like props or text, for example), I might have categorized The Last Glass as Dance Theatre. But the genre didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the entire cast of ten was all in from lights up to final blackout and it was a party that you wanted an invite to. 

Smuin Ballet in Seiwert's Renaissance
Photo Chris Hardy

As its title suggests, Seiwert’s Renaissance is of another time. It feels otherworldly, prayerful, and while it certainly has dynamic range, the ballet elicits an undeniably peaceful and serene tone. Scored by the Kitka Women’s Vocal Ensemble, the largest group piece of the evening had much to convey. But the strongest element was indeed the power of a collective working together. Unison chapters abounded. Hands were clasped together in tender support. Balances and partnering were imbued with a mutuality where all parties had to commit with the same force and attention. Renaissance has its fair share of serious, somber moments, but instead of abiding solely in that emotion, it counters with significant, palpable joy. Arms and legs reached to the heavens and to other souls on stage. Floaty leaps provided a sense of lightness and hope. Mid-way through the work, a soloist (Tess Lane at this performance) appears on the scene. As the only dancer costumed differently, there is a bit of a ‘chosen one’, Rite of Spring comparison that happens. But unlike Rite of Spring, which is always gruesome to me, here that character feels protected and cherished by the kinship of her tribe. I’ve loved Renaissance since I first saw it, and once again, it was my favorite dance of the night.

Dance Series 1 runs in San Francisco at the Cowell Theater until October 20th.