Mark Morris Dance Group, courtesy of Mondavi Arts http://www.mondaviarts.org
In going to a Mark Morris performance, particularly with the Mark Morris Dance Group, there are certain things that are expected for the evening. Fortunately or not, Morris’ reputation precedes him. He’s known for his musicality, sense of humor, and ingenuity, and it’s easy to expect to see these things onstage. But still, I was eager to what new things would be revealed with two pieces that were new to me.
The two dances that started the program at the Mondavi Center, Morris’ Visitation and Empire Garden, had remarkably similar themes running throughout. These two pieces were both created in 2009 with the same premiere date, both commissioned in part by the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. Although they were set to two very different pieces of music (Beethoven’s Cello Sonata No. 4 for Visitation, and Charles Ives’ Trio for violin, cello, and piano S. 86 for Empire Garden), both pieces were a close study of the music they both represented.
What’s always thrilled me about Morris’ choreography is his musicality, a reflection of the dance that often showed me more of the music than I ever would have gotten on my own. Watching a Morris dance can often be a primer not for dance, but for the music. Musical motifs are gently pointed out, and phrases are shaped and emphasized in the choreography (particularly in the bass lines that I often feel more than I hear). Especially for modern music which I have a hard time listening to without feeling drowned by cacophany, Morris points out the the joy or a quirky humor to an otherwise ocean of dissonant notes.
For Visitation and Empire Garden, Morris’ study of the music was closely literal. Simple gestural motifs – a hand movement, swirling arms, a lazy roll on the floor with protruding stiff arms and legs – mirror musical motifs, and both pieces contain a running rotation of them. Both pieces contain interactions amongst the dancers that are often brief but not especially emotional, wistful at most but mostly nonchalant.
More than this however, both pieces reflect a microscopic view of the music, with every detail in the music pointed out but without a larger context. Groups of dancers move in and out, sometimes reflecting the build in the music with more people but more often than not, not. The title Visitation speaks of a larger occurrence, but an occurrence is not revealed throughout the dance. I had a harder time connecting to Empire Garden, with dancers dressed in a bright, clashing costumes that look like a mix of uniforms for Star Trek, Chinese restaurant waiters, and flight attendants (flight attendants serving Chinese food on Star Trek, perhaps?). Movements in Empire Garden are syncopated with isolated body movements to reflect the more severe nature of the music, but I couldn’t decide if I had difficulty connecting to the piece due to the music or the dance. In Visitation, there is a common thread of a soloist, Maile Okamura, flitting throughout the piece with innocence and aplomb; I found her presence unifying and comforting.
Morris’ musicality has hardly ever been a criticism in my book, and despite all this, revelations abound. In Visitation, the choreography highlights an aching hesitancy in Beethoven’s music. There is a hand movement phrase mirrored by two people that encapsulates wonder and surprise, and the result is heart catching. It also helps immensely that the music is performed by a wonderful music ensemble, musicians Wolfram Koessel, Colin Fowler, and Jesse Mills, who jump across musical genres with agility and bright colors. I found that in these two dances, Morris reveals a more intimate and a more spare style in his choreography.
The evening ended with Grand Duo, a Mark Morris piece choreographed in 1993, which I absolutely loved. Set to music of Lou Harrison’s Grand Duo for Violin and Piano, the dancing is freer, with larger groups and an unabashed lack of self-consciousness. Perhaps not as musically detailed, but it contained a broader scope of the music. In “A Round”, a gentle, walking pace of the music is highlighted by a group of dancers moving from one pose to the next with their feet barely moving from being planted in one place. Each movement is a natural progression to the next, and the organic nature of the choreography is mesmerizing and so subtle. The piece ends with a raucous “Polka”, a communal dance reflecting a peasant dance of sorts, with dancers in a circle stomping to the music and throwing their hands up in the air, every second packed with something different to see. The result is a delightful romp, masterfully constructed and an absolute joy.
And thus, my love affair with Mark Morris continues. It’ll be interesting to see how his choreography changes in the future.
Mondavi Arts
On a side/personal note, this evening at the Mark Morris Dance Group solved a decade old mystery for me. My first encounter with Mark Morris’ choreography was in dance history class that I took as an undergrad. Our small class of 15-20 students had already split into two factions, a ballet faction and a modern dance faction, and we’d already had many arguments about the modern dance faction accusing the ballet lovers of misogyny, and the ballet lovers turning up our noses at the modern dance people in general, etc. (my memory’s getting a little vague). It was the Cold War of dance history class.
In one particular class during the later years of dance history, my professor was showing us grainy VHS archival footage of a Morris dance piece, and talking about Morris’ talent at depicting group pieces, such as communal peasant dances. I had never heard of Morris before, and this was my first encounter with him. I was immediately taken by the visceral nature of the dancing and the joy of it. For years, I’d wondered about that piece and I never found out the title of the piece, and once when I recently had the pleasure of meeting a Mark Morris dancer, was tempted to dance it for him (but thankfully I chickened out, knowing that it would be completely inappropriate.) And I was thrilled when I finally learned that this piece was the “Polka” in Grand Duo. That evening at the Mondavi Center, my love affair with Mark Morris had come full circle, with two of his newest pieces and my first encounter with him back in the 90′s.
