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Paul Taylor CompanyProgramme A: March / April 2001 San Francisco, Yerba Buena Theater by Renee Renouf |
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If I haven't written about the Yerba Buena Theater before, it sits on the east side of Yerba Buena Gardens facing the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art on Third Street between Mission and Howard Streets and next door to one of the entrances to the George Moscone Convention Center. Along Mission Street the Mexican Museum of Art is scheduled to rise and behind it, on Minna Alley, the Jewish Museum will occupy a reinforced brick utility building. Finally, on the corner of Mission and Third, across from YBG’s eccentric-shaped art gallery, another building is expected to be retrofitted and ultimately house the African-American Museum. With the highly commercial Sony Metreon building across the Gardens on Fourth, the area is already quite a hub. Into this 750-seat theater San Francisco Performances brings its cutting edge dance choices, from Preljocaj to Steven Petronio and Paul Taylor, and others I’ve not seen. For a theatre which opened for business in 1993, it has one of the most unaccommodating lobbies imaginable. There is about a 8-10 foot span where the lobby could be pushed out, underneath the second floor balcony, which would make performance going there a lot more hospitable. Program A was given on March 24, April 1
Cascade (1999) Like Aureole, this two-year old work is sheer joy. One can see Taylor-filtered Graham mannerisms and his own habits of phrase filling. Bounding little steps to the side remind me of an excited group of young puppies yelping with excitement. Somehow, however, I can not regard it with the same attitude as a string of ballet enchainments from a familiar ballet choreographer. It’s simply winning for endearing, particularly with the knowledge that age wise, Paul Taylor and I are first cousins. Richard Chen See with his innately elegant style, postures as if he is Louis XIV’s principal chamberlain and in charge of the presentation. He helps to set the mood for Taylor’s rivulets of references to the baroque, to ballet and a civilized time long since gone. Even with the minimal costuming only vaguely suggesting panniers, corsets, doublets and heeled shoes on the men, Bach’s tempo keeps them moving with decorum and variety. Lisa Viola, whose size reminds one that Taylor invariably keeps one pint-sized female virtuosi in his company, danced her solo with gravity and assurance, while Patrick Corbin and Maureen Mansfield evoke the gracious pairing which one senses Taylor would like to believe possible. It is a work which will not be outdated and one to see with gratitude for its creation.
Profiles (1979) This was another of the older “goodies” but completely new to me. The quartet were dressed in white unitards and the theme was followed with remarkable fidelity. I found obvious reference both in postures, movements and feeling to Nijinsky’s L’Apres Midi D’un Faune, but reworked into Taylor’s own commentary. He seemed to be exploring what it felt like and meant to move his dancers with such restriction. The angle of the head, the reference to the hands, the side ways forward and retreating steps were unmistakable. Like most Taylor problems or ideas, he is utterly protean in his ability to embellish the theme selected. I also found clear visual reference points to some of Picasso’s drawings of satyrs. Since the work both opens and closes with one of the figures lying left side center in a fetal position, it almost seemed as if Taylor resurrected Nijinsky’s spirit, set it on a slightly different track and, once the exploration was completed, required his spirit to return once more to its somnambulant state.
Big Bertha (1970) Big Bertha has to be one of the most telling works I have ever seen. It was created when Paul Taylor and his rehearsal assistant Bettie de Jong were still active dancers, de Jong appearing as Big Bertha and Taylor as the father. There is a video of de Jong dancing with Rudolph Nureyev in Taylor’s role. Sutherland designed a fascinating cross section of American ordinary with U.S. kitsch for Big Bertha, red booted, white satin with gilded nipple decorations on voluminous boobs, a dinky blue cape and hips from the best Gay Ninety naughty photographs.. When the curtain opens, one sees Big Bertha on a stand in front of a faded announcement of her mechanical skills, faded indigo with red florets and tiny little lights. The essence of a sleazy side show, Bertha is posed and on each side of her stand, two yellow chairs are slung on their side. Three bodies rest on the floor. Cloud-like wisps hover around Bertha’s stand. The lights fade, they come up on an emptied stage and the dance commences with the tinny sounds of “When the Saints Come Marching In.” Bertha jerking through her routine. Enter the trio of husband, blue pattern shirt tail out, slender pony-tailed wife with a swirling decoration of white on a swinging green skirt, daughter in nondescript white and black Mary Janes. Dad puts money in Bertha’s hand. A metallic approximation of swallowing ensues and a bright, tinny tune starts. The daughter dances; the family dances together in a soft shoe like number and the daughter beams, hugging Dad first and then Mother. Bertha reaches out and touches Dad’s head with her baton. A slightly eerie quality occurs in the lighting. The couple dances and the wife inadvertently falters in front of Bertha. Dad does a wooden waltz with wife and deposits her on stage right chair. He dances a soft-shoe routine to “Take Me Out To The Ball game” in a spacey, loosely coordinated style. He does a half bump, half grind. He walks over to his wife, cups her face, looks at her intently and hits her, goes back and continues dancing. Daughter is rubbing her neck nervously. He looks at her, does a grind, and she twists her legs together. Dad takes daughter in his arms dances with her with increasing derangement. Despite Daughter’s struggles, Dad hauls her behind Big Bertha’s screen and when they emerge on the other side it is obvious Dad has molested Daughter who staggers. He does not let her go and the episode is repeated. When they emerge again, Daughter’s movement is partially seductive but also semi drugged. Dad’s behavior is now semi-deranged and, you guessed it, semi-obsessive. When they go off again, the Mother, now hysterical herself, flounces over to Bertha and places her own coin in Bertha’s inanimate palm. She removes her skirt and blouse to reveal a red teddy garment. She takes off one shoe and throws it into the wings, climbs on her chair, does a few grinds and rubs her garment through her crotch. She falls to the floor. Dan and Daughter emerge, the Daughter now in underwear stained in red and Dad in shorts shredded and blood red. The Daughter collapses and the Father is collected by Big Bertha who takes the Mother’s skirt, drapes it around his shoulder and places him alongside her on the stand as the tinny sound of “As The Saints Come Marching In” grinds away.
Syzygy (1987)
Lisa Viola is the touchstone for this one, prevailing in a steady way while the company demonstrates quirky jerks testifying to the dissolution of social patterns and the ascendancy
of many variations on the theme of pop culture. She had them nearly at a evened pace when she is herself distracted by an extreme opposite. The sparkly little gestures, the body inflections, particularly with the head become part of Viola’s movement pattern and response. That she returns to the slow, sustained movements at the curtain is testimony to Taylor’s believe in some
sustained underlying current.
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