Taking Off
Athletic prowess and the promise of bright new things
Witnessing a momentous debut makes you feel privileged and somehow proprietary, as if you somehow own a little piece of the artist, or at least their history. A lucky few saw Twyla Tharp's first dances in the old gym at Hunter College; Mark Dendy's fabulous topless trio at Dance Theater Workshop; and now Larry Keigwin's first evening at Joyce SoHo (February 28 through March 2).
It's hard to believe this was Larry Keigwin's first full concert: five well-paced, concise, funny, and wildly energetic dances for his troupe of five. Keigwin already knows how to compose coherent, accessible dances and more importantly when to stop.
He sticks to clear and simple themes and uses his amazing physicality to elaborate them. Both he and his artistic associate, Nicole Wolcott, are motion explosions. Their seismic energy infuses the troupe�s other three members, Ashley Gilbert, and Verena Tremel, and Julian Barnett (subbing for dynamic but injured Alexander Gish), who dance their hearts out to emulate the fire of their fearless leaders. The hour-long show ranged emotionally from giddiness to wrath, from campiness to insight.
Perfectly proportioned and muscularly buffed, no one looks better in his Calvins than Keigwin, and that's his costume in his 2001 solo "Sunshine." Built around the simple conceit of miming the eponymous lyrics of Stevie Wonder and of Bill Withers singing "Ain't No Sunshine (when she�s gone)," its repeated jazzy motifs mutate just when you've started to have enough of each. The second part is pure physical romp; Keigwin dazzles us with boundless stamina and reckless virtuosity, and he makes his point about the highs and lows of love.
"Straight Duet" (2002) starts with bride and groom, Keigwin and Wolcott, separated by an upended mattress, agonizing with prenuptial jitters to the celestial singing of Cecilia Bartoli. They strip off their Salvation Army gown and tux and tumble onto the bed in their skivvies, where acrobatic tussling seems to confirm the worst fears they'd anticipated. Finally, Wolcott storms out, and Keigwin peers ruefully at the deserted mattress. It leaves a lump in your throat.
In one of three premieres, "Tetris," named for the popular video game (which I've never played), the five dancers skitter around in interlocking traffic patterns, with individuals and groups breaking out of the matrix. Keigwin and Gilbert (obviously having a blast!) match each other move for move in a fast-flying duet. Then compact, lightning-swift Barnett with petite, quicksilver Tremel and sleek, powerful Wolcott take their turn in a trio, hurtling through space on sharp diagonals. John Adams's "Perilous Shore" propels the agitated motion.
Three solos to songs by Bjork, Pat Benetar, and Annie Lennox, respectively, make up "Female Portraits." First, Tremel surrounds herself with tiny stuffed toys and dances in her underwear in the square ring they define, crying and sucking her toes like a sexually restless teenager. Next, Wolcott in a Def Leppard T-shirt and cargo pants dances a rebellious rant to "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" blasting from the boom box she carries. Finally, Gilbert, mature woman, clomps around in the dark in high-heel boots. When lights rise, she disrobes to her slip, and restively awaits the arrival of her "whoever." The movement communicates the emotional textures of the women without being literal. So far, it's a sketch waiting to be refined.
The title of last premiere, "Urban Birds," made in collaboration with Wolcott and Gish, defines its theme. A trio of city kids in camouflage miniskirts (by Doug Reker) give each other a "wing" up in soaring, assisted leaps that aspire to flight. A smartly active musical score by Yann Tiersen backs the dance. After the heart-stopping mutual lifts blended with humorous, preening, strutting, and pecking�the birds crash to the ground with a terminal thud. And the audience screams, hoping this is the start of something big: an exciting new dance voice.
By Gus Solomons jr
GAY CITY NEWS