DANCE REVIEW: ALVIN AILEY

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's Antonio Douthit and Jacqueline Green.

Movement in parts

By Ed Rampell

What the Tuskegee Airmen did in aviation, the Harlem Globetrotters did in sports and Porgy and Bess did in opera, the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater accomplishes in choreography and dancing. Indeed, with the dancers’ aerial escapades which seem to defy gravity, propelled by a graceful athleticism with an operatic expressiveness, the ensemble combine elements of all three of these pioneering groups.

Founded in 1958 in Manhattan, this “all Negro” -- now primarily if not exclusively black -- troupe now numbering about 30 dancers has become synonymous with modern dance and expressing the African-American experience through movement. And, as the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater’s name indicates, there is a strong theatrical component to the artistic expression of this company, whose eponymous founder studied not only with Martha Graham, but with Stella Adler, that apostle of a version of Stanislavsky’s Method who, among many others, also taught Marlon Brando.

Ailey’s comets are soaring across the stage and illumining the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion through April 21 with three programs, all of them containing the iconic Revelations, created by Alvin Ailey himself in 1960. Drawing on his Southern roots, Ailey distilled Negro spirituals through the medium and rhythm of modern dance. Presented as part of Program A on opening night as the third and final act, Revelations opens like a freeze frame in a film, with amber-clad hoofers’ crouching, arms outstretched, spread to reveal their wingspan. The dancers then swing their extended arms like propellers, as if they are about to take off. Later in the piece women modestly attired in white ankle length gowns and broad brimmed bonnets twirl hand fans that appear to be woven from fronds and a parasol, as bare-chested males in ivory slacks join them. Somehow stools become part of the ensemble. The backdrops are simple yet effective, ranging from hellish flames to reddish and lavender sunrises to ribbons of bluish cloth suggesting a river in the piece set to Take Me to the Water, adapted and arranged by Howard A. Roberts. At times Revelationsreminded me of a baptism or church social, evoking what W.E.B. DuBois called “the souls of Black folks.” Gyrating across the stage these spiritually moved and moving dancers are literally holy rollers.

And rockers, as Act II’s Minus 16, choreographed in 1999 by kibbutz-born Ohad Naharin, demonstrated, with movements and music ranging from the throbbing surf beat to cha cha to techno to mambo to the Israeli folk song "Hava Nagila" to Yip Harburg and Harold Arlen’s "Over the Rainbow." At some point during Minus 16 the dancers leapt offstage into the Chandler Pavilion, returning to trod and foxtrot the boards with male and female members of the audience of various ages, who raucously, impishly improvised along with the professionals, much to the crowd’s delight.

A spirited grey-haired ticket buyer unwittingly became the evening’s star, dancing along with her young male partner, proving, as the Soviet poet Vladimir Mayakovsky put it, “There’s no grey hair in my soul.” And, as that immortal philosopher Jimmy Durante astutely observed: “Everybody wants to get into the act!” I haven’t seen so much audience interaction at a public dance performance since my South Pacific days, when during their grand finales the Polynesian fire and hula dancers would grab spectators and refuse to let them go until they joined in on the hip shaking, hip-notizing merriment. The appreciative sold out crowd of Ailey fans at the Chandler was clearly predisposed to love the show and artistes.

The premiere opened on a more somber note with another religiously tinged composition called Grace, choreographed in 1999 by Ronald K. Brown. The score includes pieces by Duke Ellington and Fela Kuti’s Afro-Pop rhythms (the musical play Fela! makes a return engagement at the Ahmanson April 26). Spiritual yet sensuous, after the scrim lifts female dancers with white halter tops and bare midriffs, their gauzy material lit from above by bluish light, flow across the stage, kicking, splitting, leaping, twirling whirling dervishes, whirlwinds and windmills of poetry in motion.

Program A, Ailey Spirit, will be repeated on April 20 during the evening performance. Program B, 21^st Century Ailey, is being presented on April 18 and during the April 21 matinee, and includes: Another Night, Petite Mort and Strange Humors. Program C, Classic Ailey, takes place on the evening of April 19 and the April 20 matinee, consisting of selections from: Memoria, Night Creature, Phases, Opus McShann, Love Songs, For "Bird" - With Love, Hidden Rites and Cry, all choreographed by the namesake himself. The music may be taped but the choreo is always live, alive, lively and life affirming during Alvin Ailey’s extravaganzas.


The Alvin Ailey Dance Theater performs through April 21 at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave, Los Angeles. For tickets: (213)972-0711; www.musiccenter.org.  

 

FILM REVIEW: IT'S A DISASTER

A scene from It's a Disaster.

Flirting with terror

By Don Simpson

When everyone arrives at Emma (Erinn Hayes) and Pete's (Blaise Miller) house, they have absolutely no idea just how disastrous this Sunday brunch will become. First their cell phone reception goes dead, then the television goes to static. What? No UT football game? Now the shit gets serious! (Hook 'em!) Cut off from the rest of the world, the four couples are left with a table covered with food and wine, and good old fashioned conversation yet, in a captivating tip of the cap to Luis Buñuel, they never quite get to the food.

This is Tracy's (Julia Stiles) latest boyfriend, Glenn's (David Cross) first time meeting her friends. Glenn is not quite one of the guys, nonetheless Pete, Shane (Jeff Grace) and Buck (Kevin Brennan) try to accept him into their fold. As the outsider, Glenn is the first to get (or not) a hint of Emma and Pete's current dilemma. Glenn also falls prey to Lexi (Rachel Boston) and Buck's open and free relationship. Despite Lexi and Buck's eagerness to fuck anything that moves, their relationship is apparently the strongest of the bunch; even the prolonged engagement of Hedy (America Ferrera) and Shane is apparently at its wit's end.

It is not their disconnection from the outside world or the wail of sirens that rattles this bunch. Instead, it is a cameo by writer-director Todd Berger that kicks the tension into high gear. Each character's reaction to Berger's cleverly injected news represents a different stage of grief. When the shit hits the fan, we quickly learn what is more important: interpersonal relationships or survival instincts? For these self-involved thirtysomethings, it seems to be the former; well, except for Shane, the token paranoid conspiracy theory nut of the bunch.

It's a Disaster is an impeccably-written, dark-as-a-moonless-night satire that hearkens back to the glory days of classic comedy. Existing in the surreal ether somewhere between Preston Sturges and Woody Allen, Berger takes on disaster films as well as the trope of trapping characters in one location -- all the while, Berger and cinematographer Nancy Schreiber beautifully choreograph the on screen events to Altman-esque precision.

Berger's film is a sardonically-scribed social commentary on the priorities of privileged white thirtysomethings. By definition, terrorism incites terror; but, the characters of It's a Disaster diffuse the terror of terrorism by being so damn self-involved. Sure, in due time they all eventually react to the terror that surrounds them but, one thing can be certain, the characters of It's a Disaster do not initially react the way the terrorists had hoped. God bless America and god bless Todd Berger -- now just give me a sip of that god-damned Merlot.

FILM REVIEW: SIMON KILLER

Simon (Brady Corbet) in Simon Killer.

More funny games

By Don Simpson

Simon (Brady Corbet) recently broke up with the girlfriend he has had since high school. Or, rather, she broke up with him. He arrives in Paris to escape, to forget about Michelle, to find someone else, to... Well, let's just move along... In high school, Simon studied French, and he does a fairly admirable job talking to the local Parisians, but he does encounter some difficulties in comprehending what they are saying to him. Oh, and while Simon was in college, he studied the relationship between the human eye and the brain. Or, so he says.

It quickly becomes apparent Simon is an unreliable source of information. His history is riddled with contradictions; his present is blurred by his keen knack for smoke screens. For example, Simon uses his perceived intelligence as a way to lure women in and gain their trust; besides, it is a really effective way to keep them from noticing his current lack of employment. Simon also knows how to use his boyish, fresh-out-of-university appearance to add to his presumed innocence. He certainly knows how to fumble around with his ability to speak and understand French at all the right times, too.

All the while, Simon prances around Paris with a false bravado, acting tough until he is actually confronted. He is overly aggressive with women but wants to be babied by them as well. So, what pray tell is Simon's objective while in Paris? As a voyeuristic predator, women are mere sex objects for Simon -- whether it be via online sex chats or brothels, he has orgasms by just looking at women. Simon also wants someone to take care of him. He seems scared of commitment yet simultaneously frightened of rejection. In other words, Simon wants everything and nothing.

Simon Killer -- qu'est-ce que c'est? So much about Simon is merely a facade. He is a product of perception -- what do women see when they look at him? What are women's eyes telling their brain? More importantly, what does the camera's eye tell us to think about Simon, as the observational -- practically cinéma vérité -- cinematography creates an even further allusion of truth. In many ways, Simon Killer plays like a deconstruction of perceived cinematic realism, picking away at its inherent layers of dishonesty.

FILM REVIEW: UPSTREAM COLOR

Jeff (Shane Carruth) and Kris (Amy Seimetz) in Upstream Color.

Much ado about something

By Don Simpson

Writer-director Shane Carruth's Upstream Color is a fully immersing experience that questions the way in which we perceive the world. A head trip of sound and vision, the meanings and intentions of Upstream Color are impossibly oblique. There is only one thing that is for certain -- there is nothing absolute about Upstream Color, so what follows are merely my interpretations of the on-screen events.

Our transcendental journey begins at a nursery where pale, maggot-like insects are collected from the soil of orchids. The insects are carefully separated and dropped into jars depending on whether they are healthy or dead. Presumably bearing psychotropic characteristics, the healthy insects are soaked in a liquid which is then willingly consumed by a group of young test subjects. While under the powerful influence of the insects, the test subjects showcase superhuman reflexes and powers of mental telepathy.

What appears to be a research study is then escalated to the direct consumption of the insects. One such test subject, Kris (Amy Seimetz), is force-fed the creepy crawly insect by a kidnapper (Thiago Martins). The strange psychotropic qualities of the insect place Kris under a hypnotic haze which can be controlled by the kidnapper. When Kris finally becomes conscious again, she is left poor and jobless, suffering from PTSD.

Kris eventually meets Jeff (Carruth), with whom she seems to share a unique kinship. They both try to decipher their blurry pasts, slowly fitting the puzzle pieces of their memories together. Henry David Thoreau's Walden serves as the cornerstone of Kris' memories and an existential key for both of them.

Parallel to the story of Kris and Jeff is the tale of a rancher (Andrew Sensenig) whose pigs begin to develop strange qualities. This mysterious man is also somehow connected to the insect research and is seemingly able to transport himself -- via energy from his pigs -- like a ghost into the worlds of the unknowing subjects of the research. Presumably their memorization of Walden eventually leads the test subjects to this man's farm, where they learn to work collectively for the good of their community. Or something like that...

Upstream Color begs to be compared and contrasted with Thoreau's Walden. Both narratives evolve into social experiments, though they seem to have different opinions on individualism versus collectivism. Additionally, both stories revolve around the human connection with nature. Also the shedding of wealth and possessions to free oneself plays a major role in both Upstream Color and Walden, although in the former it is not by choice. Carruth's film also echoes the concepts of Buddhism, discussing the cycle of life and the inter-connectivity of all living creatures. Then, on another plane of existence, Upstream Color tells the story of the psychological turmoil resulting from a kidnapping and the overcoming of the resulting crippling stress and paranoia.

Functioning as writer, director, producer, actor, cinematographer, composer, and editor, Carruth is the epitome of the modern day auteur. No matter how confusing and frustrating Upstream Color may be, there is no denying the amazingly singular artistic vision that produced this film. Echoing the godlike control that is held over the film's test subjects, Carruth is the grand creator and chief inquisitor of this uniquely cinematic world.