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Oakland BalletOctober 2005 San Francisco, Calvin Simmons Theater by Renee Renouf |
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Oakland Ballet’s second program for its fortieth season was timed for the Thanksgiving weekend at the Calvin Simmons Theater, located on the shores of Lake Merritt. The edifice dates back to 1914, Oakland's contribution to the celebration of the Panama Canal and the resurrection following the ‘06 Earthquake and Fire. The program proved to be easy on the eyes, mind and the audience’s capacity to enjoy the obvious, well-rendered. For a family-oriented program, artistic director Karen Brown was extremely astute in her choices.
A Short Solo (1999) Marianne Humainette: Phaedra Jarrett, Yoko Ohmori Brooks has fused ballet and animation with the familiar strains of a Chopin waltz. Jarrett, with her wide expressive eyes and fluid port de bras, bounds across a platform with minuscule body, tremendously adept tiny feet, soaring over the edge, picking herself up, executing multiple beats, eliciting applause from the audience and even taking a quick shut eye to the orchestrated air of Frederick’s which Fokine immortalized in Les Syphides. When this piece is a pas de deux in other venues, it makes for an amazing partnership. A perfect introduction for this program, the audience contributed chuckles, guffaws and giggles to Jarrett’s exertions. Acknowledging her public, Jarrett not only bowed but removed the sock from Ohmori’s head so the audience could also applaud the skillful individual behind her.
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2003)
Sorcerer: Paunika Jones; Joseph Copley; Matthew Linzer With eerie lighting, the Sorcerer, born aloft by Messrs. Copley and Linzer, wearing mauve to pewter draperies which fluttered when the bearers trotted, looked like a totemic African figure in a mysterious ritual. Williams, the apprentice, emerged from under these draperies into a tour de force of jetes, tours and pirouettes. Gaining strength and command enough he got the Broom to materialize into an active being whose hands were encased in lengthy broom like appendages; a struggle and apparently a seduction ensued; the Broom then became hyper active with the fetching of water. Unable to control her, the Apprentice dunked her behind the rising water, and, apparently hit her. Utterly spent, he rolled forward to the edge of the stage where he apparently lay in a stupor. Well he might; based on the non-stop technical demands William met easily to this juncture. On came the ensemble, fellow brooms with like appendages, who had at it with the water and with the Apprentice until he evoked the magic words. The Sorcerer reappeared, once more born aloft, subduing the waves; she embraced the Apprentice and the Broom before sweeping away; The Broom found arms freed of their burden while the Apprentice faced coping with the appendages on his once-free hands. It was a remarkably well-told little tale, a bit drawn out because of the musical structure, yet absorbing and properly eerie; the lighting and those appendages made the dancers en pointe appear like extra terrestrial creatures. As the Broom, Kierney was slender, subtle and nicely placed, showing the definite promise of a competent classicist. Jones as the Sorcerer was up there, so she was unable to register much beyond mysterious authority which she did, effectively, remote and commanding. Gabriel Williams, who made such an excellent impression in Eugene Loring’s Billy the Kid, reinforced that impression, with one exception; his upper torso lapsed into sports-like style, at odds with the clarity and virtuosity of his foot work. In story telling, it is tolerable, in classical work it requires attention.
Peter and The Wolf
Music: Serge Prokofiev
Peter: Preston Duggins III Guest Narrator: Harrison James The sonority and occasional falsetto in Harrison James’ resonant voice, provided a range of commentary on this engaging tale that gave this production a special quality. My ear listened for his take on the proceedings as much as watching what actually happened. I hope there are other narrations which brings James back to Oakland Ballet. Preston Duggins III provided a bright child in the cardboard dimensions of the set, clear lines, turns and postures straight from a story book illustration. Peter and the Wolf, after all, lacks subtlety and must make up for it in brightness, energy and unfussy delivery. Shepperd skittered delicately behind a major blue-jay like mask with a clutch of feathers on her fanny and pinkish paint up her tights from the toe shoes. Body and line accented all the positives. Venturo’s cat had a Cheshire like mask, or was it a Persian, but definitely feline, while Goldman lent height to her white feathery attire. Linzer’s Wolf was tall, impressive, posturing and stroking himself with model-like narcissism. Grandfather Copley had a tall hat, obvious white woolly beard and a stalking stride which echoed, “Howdy Partner!” The three hunters, decked out in primary colors, strode and shook as the occasion demanded, broadly, in the style of music and the production.
The modest set, probably resuscitated from Oakland Ballet’s warehouse, was doubtlessly constructed on a tight budget; it was adequate, pleasant if not wildly imaginative, but held all the necessary props to support the story line. Behind me an adult chuckled and guffawed at all the appropriate spots; good situational comedy and a wonderfully trained voice will carry thee far. The audience applause echoed the sentiment. Oakland's dance theater reputation seems quite intact.
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