United States Paul Taylor Dance Company: Dancers of Paul Taylor Dance Company. Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles, 30.4.2023. (JRo)
Company B
Choreography – Paul Taylor
Music – Songs by various composers sung by the Andrews Sisters
Costumes – Santo Loquasto
Lighting – Jennifer Tipton
Dreamachine
Choreography – Lauren Lovette
Music – Michael Daugherty
Set and costumes – Santo Loquasto
Lighting – Jennifer Tipton
The Green Table
Book and choreography – Kurt Jooss
Music – Fritz Cohen
Pianists – David LaMarche, Blair McMillen
Costumes – Hein Heckroth
Masks and Lighting design – Hermann Markard
Staging and Supervision – Jeanette Vondersaar
Co-staging and Répétiteur – Claudio Schellino
Lighting direction – Berry Claassen
In dances that ranged from spirited and buoyant to dark and menacing, Paul Taylor Dance Company’s program was notable for its anti-war message. Taylor’s Company B from 1991and Kurt Jooss’s 1932 masterpiece, The Green Table, proved their enduring power to both entertain and elevate. Between the two was the world premiere of Lauren Lovette’s Dreamachine, a puzzling mashup of dream sequences that tackled sci-fi, pop culture and guerilla war.
Choreographed to the World War II hits of the Andrews Sisters, Taylor’s rift on the popular dances of that day is not only a crowd pleaser, but also delivers a punch. Flirting girls and lovesick boys are contrasted with men marching off to war and the women left behind to mourn.
‘Pennsylvania Polka’ opened on a light-hearted romp, but just when innocent fun seemed the prevalent mood, men dropped to their knees in poses of soldiers shooting and dying – a tableau vivant of war’s toll. In the acrobatic and joyful ‘Tico-Tico’, a volley of staccato movements performed by Alex Clayton turned dark as the question arose: is his body being wracked by gunfire?
There was plenty to chuckle about, however. ‘Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, Oh!’ featured Lee Duveneck as a thoroughly believable, gawky nerd being pursued by a bevy of lovestruck girls. ‘Rum and Coca-Cola’ played with its opposite, as the talented and musical Madelyn Ho flirted girlishly before a drooling gang of smitten boys.
In the stand-out solo, ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B’, classic ballet leaps and turns were juxtaposed with boogie woogie’s snapping fingers and jutting hips. John Harnage mastered the quick changes of direction and mood.
The women wore fifties’ flared skirts, the men wore slacks. Costumes were colored in varying shades of beige, punctuated by red belts. The decision to dress the men in streetwear rather than military attire was a good one, allowing dance to speak for itself.
So effortlessly does Taylor’s choreography meld with the songs of the Andrews Sisters that the dances felt organic to and at one with the music. Not so with Lovette’s Dreamachine. The music of Michael Daugherty seemed at odds with the intention of the choreographer. Naxos’s catalogue describes Daugherty’s piece: ‘Dreamachine for solo percussion and orchestra is a colourful tribute to the imagination of inventors who dreamed of new machines, both real and surreal.’
Lovette’s choreography and intention were perplexing. The music seemed less like inspiration and more like background to her scenarios. ‘Da Vinci’s Wings’ featured sci-fi warriors in cheesy S&M costumes complete with dog collars, masks, spiked headdresses, silver tights and black knee pads. Could this be the same Santo Loquasto who designed the subtle and charming costumes for Company B? Kristin Draucker, in an orange dress, danced with an assortment of warriors who ultimately stacked themselves up into a traveling pyramid of bodies – a kind of Cirque de Soleil meets Star Trek.
‘Electric Eel’, performed by Jessica Ferretti in tattered jeans and midriff blouse and Kenny Corrigan on street gliders (sneakers with wheels in the heel), seemed to be an ode to contemporary culture, but I was at a loss as to how it referred to the dance that preceded it.
The full cast was onboard for the last section, ‘Vulcan’s Forge’, with dancers dressed in green military garb and sporting dark glasses. Here, the music threatened to drown the piece – the intensity of the score creating an overheated environment that felt unmoored from the choreography.
When the curtain opens on the centerpiece of Kurt Jooss’s The Green Table – a green table surrounded by men in black tie and tails, wearing the haunting yet comical masks of old men planning war – it never fails to inspire awe. The import of these characters looming around a conference table is instantly recognizable in any age.
Choreographed in 1932, The Green Table (A Dance of Death in Eight Scenes), drew much of its inspiration from the Dada movement and the world war that spawned it. The Marx Brothers, whose irreverent humor grew out of Dada, were in turn an obvious influence on Jooss. For starters, one of the ten politicians (or Gentlemen in Black as they are called) drops into the famous Groucho deep knee-bend walk with hands held behind the back, tapping out a rhythm with his palms. The dancers gesticulate with pointing fingers, cocked heads, arched backs and legs in extension. All movements are centered on and around the iconic table, the color green of a billiard table and its reference to games – in this case, war games. The exaggerated gestures and posturings of these self-important politicians as they hatch their schemes resonate in our own time.
The music of Fritz Cohen creates a coherent structure for the dance, offering both irony and menace. The ‘negotiations’ of the Gentlemen in Black are danced to the 4/4 time of tango; the ‘Dance of Death’ to a militaristic and mechanical rhythm, emphasizing death as a machine that consumes its victims.
Hein Heckroth’s costume for Death has to be among the most terrifying images in dance. Death, a cross between an ancient Roman soldier and a skeleton, figures prominently in the ballet, whether carrying off combatants, an old woman or a prostitute. The role has medieval origins and carries with it the weight of the ballet. Repetitive movements of squats, stamping feet and high stomping legs make it a taxing part. The movements continue throughout with the steps marking time like a percussion instrument. The role fell to Shawn Lesniak who carried off the difficult choreography.
John Harnage was notable as the Profiteer, a kind of master of ceremonies in his bowler hat, white shirt and black tights. Also of note was Jada Pearman as the Young Girl. The pianists David LaMarche and Blair McMillen gave a stirring performance of the score.
The Green Table, an enduring ballet with its always relevant anti-war message, has been performed by such international companies as Joffrey Ballet, American Ballet Theatre and Dutch National Ballet. Paul Taylor’s company is a welcome addition to this roster.
Jane Rosenberg