by Leigh Witchel
After two years of canceled or digital seasons, it was wonderful that Paul Taylor’s company performed at City Center at all. But it didn’t quite feel like itself.
As the music thumpity-thumped to begin “Offenbach Overtures,” you might have asked, what makes a Taylor dance a Taylor dance? You wouldn’t have had to ask that a few years back; it would have been obvious. But he’s no longer here, and now you do.
It’s not the steps. It’s never been the steps – there are perhaps seven of them, as the joke goes. Taylor, like Balanchine, resides in the style. The weight the dancers attack a step with, the shape of that attack, the use of the floor make steps look like Taylor. Christina Lynch Markham, one of the senior dancers now, demonstrated that in her brief solo. It’s also the physical appearance of the company, which was always diverse, but predictable. As Taylor himself joked about the women, he always had one runt.
And the humor. The goofy, sometimes dopey sense of humor that created both “Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rehearsal)” and “Troilus and Cressida (Reduced)” as well as “Offenbach.” There’s an uncredited ensemble part that Taylor made for Lisa Viola, who took it as license to steal the whole ballet.
Her jerky, woozy solo now feels bowdlerized. Viola created a cousin to Gilda Radner’s semi-comatose Colleen Fernman, and it was on the line between hilarious and hey-that’s-not-funny-that’s-sick. Viola (or Parisa Khobdeh after her) stayed in that character throughout, not merely switched on during solos. Lisa Borres tried to humanize her character, but that just diluted it. Like many Taylor gags that are borderline tasteless (anyone remember the Klan hoods in “Oh, You Kid?”) it’s 20th-century slapstick. Borres danced off balance but we didn’t know why, and it looked as if she wasn’t sure either.
The duel for two men who find a thin line between hate and love also needed more slapstick. Devon Louis had an explosive, but messy, jump; at least Lee Duveneck got in a triple attitude turn.
The main woman’s role was always ladylike (except when it degenerated into a girl fight) but Jada Pearman also wasn’t finding the humor. Most of the time her delivery was deadpan, when she did act more comic it wasn’t clear enough. She sneaked onstage, found her partner and took off her mask, but didn’t make a moment of any of it.
“Airs” was bound to look better than “Offenbach.” The dancers can put “Airs” over just by dancing; comedy requires being funny. Pearman looked her best when she was moving at top speed in a fast duet with Harnage. Harnage looked balletic, but at least he looked something; like an early Patrick Corbin. Jessica Ferretti displaced space in her solo, using weight like a Taylor dancer – things looked familiar for a bit.
The duet for Alex Clayton and Madelyn Ho was both both aerial and grounded. Ho, also now one of the senior company members, held the stage. In the women’s quartet that followed she made the clearest shapes, because they had an action. When she flexed her palm, she didn’t just flex her palm, she made a motion directing your focus downwards.
“Rush Hour,” a work Larry Keigwin made for the company in 2016, was a change for him; darker in tone and more serious in intent. The action happened on a stripped stage with the wings visible; the dancers wore simple, skintight gray and black costumes by Fritz Masten. Like many of Keigwin’s commissions, it had a large cast and kept the dancers moving.
The commissioned score by Adam Crystal had a cinematic sweep and drive: it didn’t slow up. Neither did the dancers, all of them racing on and off; the women jumping into the men’s arms. “Rush Hour” is well-made and cagily constructed; there were no lumps or bumps. But also not much purpose. Dancers came and went with fleeting emotions, all, naturally, at a rush.
Everyone was anxious; it was never clear why. Keigwin may have interpreted the score as foreboding, but didn’t feel a need to flesh that out. People suddenly looked up, but at what? There was so much energy but very little texture. “Rush Hour” incorporated some of Taylor’s transitions and jumps, but stitched them together aerobically with running. The whole piece was dialed to 10.
Right now the company is in flux. The majority of dancers are new to us, and it doesn’t look yet as if anyone is magnetic enough to assume the mantle of Michael Trusnovec, or Viola, Christopher Gillis, Elie Chaib, Kate Johnson, David Parsons . . . it’s a long list, and those are big shoes to fill.
This crop of Taylor dancers looked best and most at home in Keighwin’s “Rush Hour.” The dancers ate the short, full-tilt phrases up. But they didn’t make the case for Taylor’s own work. Yet. We hope. Or else, we are watching the first grind of history’s millstone.
copyright ©2022 by Leigh Witchel
“Offenbach Overtures,” “Airs,” “Rush Hour” – Paul Taylor Dance Company
New York City Center, New York, NY
March 30, 2022
Cover: Madelyn Ho and Alex Clayton in “Airs.” Photo credit © Whitney Browne.
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