BWW Reviews: Paul Taylor: Pioneer, Teacher, Storyteller

He was there in the beginning. He was there when the foundation was being built, and he has been working and shaping modern dance ever since he discovered it in the 1950's. Paul Taylor is presenting his 2013 season at the David H. Koch Theatre at Lincoln Center, revealing some of his finest works to date. With a stunning display of pieces, both old and new, each performance is sure to run the gamut of different worlds, stories, and imagery which Taylor is known for.

The performance begins with "Scudorama," Taylor's view of purgatory. A man dressed in a suit, clouded with terror and concerns about the Cold War, awakens in a land that is unfamiliar. Abstracted clouds hang in the sky that is painted amethyst, while an unsettling tune lingers in the air. The man finds himself lying under some type of creature. Confused and disoriented the man picks his way uneasily through the diabolical creatures around him. They are aroused, and he is filled with dread, but all too late. He has become property of the creatures and crawls dementedly off stage with them looming over him.

Now the procession of the fiends commences. Writhing, spinning, zealous. Their movement quality permeates with imagery of canines and arthropods, crawling with sliding legs and walking hands. The man re-enters with one of the creatures encaged around his head. He has been absorbed into their world, and his troubled soul is now tenant to what Dante called, "this black haze."

The creatures are back, blankets in hand, whipping at the floor as if to put out a fire. A single soul enters, a girl desperate and sad. She is forlorn and wanting but is immediately taken over by fiends and manipulated like a rag doll. And then they are everywhere, apathetic, dark creatures, intent on tearing meaning from those at their fingertips. The blanketed forms creep back and their digestion of souls is complete.

In the second piece, "Lost, Found and Lost," Taylor lampoons fashion models in all their indifferent sophistication. Lazy poses, sulking aristocracy, stuck up elegance. Taylor pokes fun at this world by exposing the childish manners and attitudes in a comedic fashion. Initially the dancers glide about the stage like a feline agilely moving across the room, perching nobly on a couch, turning his head once to the left and then to the right. However, as time goes on, egos get in the way, and the dancers begin to bicker about who's next in line, throw tantrums, and engage in a full scale couture competition. A truly hilarious piece, Taylor shows he understands how to pull off comedy in dance.

The final performance of the evening, "Cascade," set to Concertos for Piano and Orchestra by Johann Sebastian Bach, was first performed in 1999. An eloquent poem, "Cascade" begins with the strong and purposeful movement of five men. Their ladies enter, skipping, flitting, and soaring. The couples find each other, and a conversation is cast. Resplendent shapes and a lovely ebb and flow of movement are set into motion. They seem to be in some wooded glade, sometimes centaurs, sometimes lovers, always leaping, twirling, and reaching. Deliciously elegant, "Cascade" endures as a lovely sonnet.

Paul Taylor remains one of the greats of our time. Though he's been choreographing for almost 60 years, he continues to create worlds that audiences still want to enter. From "Scudorama," first performed 50 years ago in 1963, to "Cascade," performed just a few years ago, Taylor's imagination and originality come to life through his beautifully and technically trained company in a way that encapsulates the evening in an enchanting glow.

Photo Credit: Paul B. Goode

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