BWW Reviews: Paul Taylor 60th Anniversary Marathon

The celebration of the sixtieth anniversary of Paul Taylor's choreographic career filled the stage and the screen - computer screens that is, with announcements regarding the company's future trajectory - in the way that only Paul Taylor can. The choreographer's choices, both in his dances and dialogue, cover the spectrum of ideologies. Throughout his career, Taylor allowed himself to be in the moment, whatever the moment, and continues to contribute in a very important, seemingly endless conversation: how modern dance maintains its relevance alongside contemporary dance without losing its heritage. A few Taylor twists this season: six dollar tickets, added alumni performance, and anticipated diversified repertory with works from other choreographers.

On Friday, March 14th, the Koch Theater bubbled with happiness. Taylor presented three works. He bookended the melancholy of season premiere Marathon Cadenzas with the frolicking gaiety of A Field of Grass and the sweeping beauty of Arden Court. As always, Taylor's dancers wondrously captivated with their athletic stature and lightning fast yet fluid aesthetic.

Robert Kleinendorst's easy breezy drag encircled him with smoke in A Field of Grass. As he puffed away the tendrils of smoke embraced him. He fell into the embrace. He flirted and joked with it. His friends skipped into play, relaxed as the jeans they wore. Taylor's Graham experience lingered in the rock 'n roll flirtation with the torsos taking the beat (contraction). Slowly the carefree somersaults withdrew as they came down from their "trip." Although seemingly free and easy, Taylor's Beatniks constantly searched the heavens. Their palms lifted upwards in every leap and jump. The diagonal pull of the torso illustrated the conflict of the time surfacing in the traveling steps across the stage. In looking back at the time, Taylor laughingly said goodbye to it. A nostalgic chuckle perhaps, as his work was born out of that particular time and yet transcended it.

Marathon Cadenzas stepped back even further in time to visit the marathon dances of the 1920's and 1930's. Taylor's dancers executed a plethora of social dances from jitterbug to the quickstep to the Charleston to droll tap dancing. Sean Mahoney enacted a controlling yet equally desperate emcee/referee character. Mahoney trolled among the dancers, manipulating the women for sexual favors and dehumanizing the couples as they trod along the dance course. Dancers tumbled and fell repeatedly; and, upon recognizing their vulnerability, executed impromptu showcases of virtuosity to regain emcee Mahoney's favor. Michael Trusnovec translated frustrated exhaustion into a willowy sad sonata. Michelle Fleet trumped all in her frenzied Charleston. The dance marathons simply sought survival and their urgent nature bequeathed ecstasy as the conduit. Taylor's dancers faded into that ecstatic fantasy with a more ambiguous presentation than perhaps the era's iconic Jane Fonda film, They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

Exiting the plight of the human condition, Taylor's playful Arden Court celebrated the beauty of his dancers dancing. The women as pixies and the men as sprites, dashed across the stage in the watercolor ensembles by Gene Moore. First performed in 1981, the piece inhabited a balletic space but with Taylor's comedic flair. For the first time in the evening, the dancers' gaze looked beyond the audience. The otherworldly creatures leapt and bound across the stage. Cartwheels and goofy arabesque promenades (wherein Taylor juxtaposed the traditional periphery support with crawling underneath the extended leg) mediated the glorious Taylor loping run into the air, arms outstretched. Watching the bows, the symmetry of arms raised in acknowledgement mirrored the Taylor épaulement: victorious, ambitious, and accomplished.

Photo by Paul B. Goode

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