Erin Bomboy's Blog

Mark Twain once said, “The less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.” Although Twain probably didn’t see much ballet in his lifetime, his words aptly describe an art form that is almost slavish in its devotion to a vaunted past. How else to explain the racist clichés that parade across stages around the world well into the 21st century?Phil Chan and Georgina Pazcoguin decided to address head-on the harmful caricatures and inaccurate stereotypes of Asians that regularly appear in the ballet canon. Chinese-American Chan and Filipino-American Pazcoguin founded Final Bow for Yellowface to encourage . . . FOUR MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST. Photo by Elizabeth Schneider-Cohen

Dimitris Papaioannou has death on his mind. The last image in The Great Tamer, which made its New York premiere at BAM, buries itself into your gut. As if it leaped off the canvas by a Dutch master and onto the Howard Gilman Opera House stage, a vanitas of an open book, scraps of an orange, and a human skull displays a stark message. Transience is truth; decay is inevitable. But first comes life, which unfolds as an absurdist circus set to the ambient strains of Strauss’ “The Blue Danube.” Snippets swell throughout, yet they fade after just a few measures. The expectation of a rollicking waltz lifting you up and away from thoughts of the body’s ultimate failure will be frustrated.The Great Tamer highlights characteristic . . .THREE MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Photo by Max Gordon

In the Bantu language, the word sénsa means “coming to visibility,” “to appear from far away,” and “to reveal itself.” It seems like a word for magicians, priests, and alchemists. Their work, after all, transpires betwixt and between the before and the after. The moments of transformation they conjure are fraught with ambiguity. Their only certainty is uncertainty.The forty-five-minute Sènsa connects this idea to Dr. Kimbwandènde Kia Bunseki Fu-Kiau’s 1991 groundbreaking book African Cosmology of the Bantu-Kongo: Principles of Life and Living. As such, the work unfolds like a sacred spiral, realized through high-contrast movement, music, and lighting. It made its U.S. premiere at Abrons Arts Center, co-commissioned with Performa 19 Biennial and Red Bull Arts New York, featuring choreography by Paul Maheke, a score by Melika Ngombe Kolongo a.k.a. Nkisi, and lighting design by Ariel Efraim Ashbel.Upon entering the Underground Theater, the audience is swept into a literal spiral. The piece has us . . . TWO MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Photo by Paula Court

Swan Lake has been having a moment. Enchantingly flexible, it has accommodated interpretations as diverse as Matthew Bourne’s with its all-male swan corps to Guangdong Acrobatic Troupe of China’s, which features the Swan Queen balancing on top of her paramour’s head. Maybe that’s because, like all timeless stories, its many light and dark elements can be mixed and matched in infinite ways.The original incarnation, with a clear delineation of good versus evil, settled long ago into its current state as a balletic warhorse. A century-plus later, it remains a favorite for showcasing bravura technique, Tchaikovsky’s inimitable score, and a picturesque, old-world setting. But there’s a new version in town, and it’s so interesting, so powerful that you won’t miss any of the things you thought Swan Lake needed to be Swan Lake, which is to say the dancing, the music, and the setting.A 75-minute work of Irish tanztheater, Teac Damsa's Loch na hEala manages the impossible by being . . . THREE MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Teac Damsa’s Swan Lake/Loch na hEala at BAM Harvey; Photo by Stephanie Berger

Quiet isn’t silent, and choreographer William Forsythe knows the difference. In his A Quiet Evening of Dance at The Shed’s Griffin Theater, the primary soundtrack in the first act is the dancers’ pants, grunts, and wheezes. Occasional bird chirps, and later, a sparse, grumbling score for piano do knock at the musical void, but the result remains the same — to make you see the movement. Absence directs attention to presence.Because it’s Forsythe, there’s a lot to . . . TWO MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Photo by Mohamed Sadek

It’s been said that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did . . . but backward and in heels. Although that quip originated in a 1982 Frank and Ernest cartoon by Bob Thaves, the sentiment can resonate just as much today as it did yesterday.Kristine Bendul and Abdiel Jacobsen have decided it’s time to retire that old chestnut permanently. Jacobsen, a former principal with the Martha Graham Dance Company, and Bendul, a Broadway performer and choreographer, have teamed up to compete in professional ballroom dancing as a gender-neutral couple. They, clad in high heels, organically switch between leading and following several times within a dance. “The future is fluid,” Jacobsen says.Bendul and Jacobsen met dancing . . . THREE MINUTES TO READTo read more about Abdiel and Kristine, click HERE. Photo by Christopher Jones.

By themselves, the props hold little interest. When set in motion, they become the elements of a large-scale artistic sculpture. As for their meaning once assembled? Well, that’s where the magic of 600 Highwaymen’s Manmade Earth resides. These props include slabs of cardboard, ladders, boards, plastic buckets, and a drop cloth that seemingly stretches the length of a city block. In the industrial brick-and-wood space of The Invisible Dog Art Center where the piece makes its world premiere, they seem entirely at home. But what eight teenagers do with them is wholly surprising.600 Highwaymen is the name under which Abigail Browde and Michael Silverstone produce work. Since 2009, the married theater artists have presented genre-provoking pieces that interrogate . . . TWO MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST. Photo by Maria Baranova

It may be one of the most famous lines in English literature. Appearing near the end of Charlotte Brontë’s beloved bildungsroman, the titular Jane Eyre declares, “Reader, I married him.” These four words chime climactically for the “friendless orphan” who finds love while staying true to herself. Like the great story ballets, Jane Eyre draws heavily from fairytales. It mixes the rags-to-riches of Cinderella with a bellicose beast of a lover who’s tamed by Jane’s inner beauty. A touch of Bluebeard materializes in a mad wife who’s been hidden in the attic, so her husband can take a new bride. All the drama transpires with shadows licking at the edges of both the morally claustrophobic Victorian era and Jane’s roiling conscience. What sets Jane Eyre apart, then and now, is its confessional first-person point-of-view. You, the reader, have entry to Jane’s thoughts and feelings — even the carnal ones. She holds nothing back, and this access to another’s head and heart, scandalous at the time of publication, is riveting.Translating this complex interiority to the theater’s third-person perspective is a challenging task. Choreographer Cathy Marston, who’s made a name for herself by bringing the literary canon to the stage, was tapped to create Jane Eyre . . .To read the balance of my review, please visit The Dance Enthusiast.Isabella Boylston and Thomas Forster in Jane Eyre. Photo by Gene Schiavone

YYDC’s movement looks like it feels yummy on the body, all elastic lunges, cushiony pliés, and gestures that sketch the air like cursive. Dancing in two of the three world premieres in the BAM Fisher program, The Edge of 30°, founder and artistic director Yin Yue embodies the genesis of her language. Her multi-faceted history includes training in Chinese classical and folk dance as well as ballet and modern.The result of her east-meets-west background is FoCo Technique, which utilizes the five elements and three rhythmic stages of pulse, drop, flow. Yue’s dancers appear well versed in the language, and their fluency realizes a consistent flair through The Edge of 30° even when the work itself is artistically literal.The 85-minute production transpires . . .TWO MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Photo by Andreas Herrmann

The transdisciplinary artist NIC Kay uses the expression "get well soon" as the jumping off point for their latest work, a triptych of hour-long performances that unfold over three days. Site-specific in nature, the world premiere of [GET WELL SOON] you black + bluised uses the brick-and-mortar architecture of Abrons Arts Center as its setting. Taken as a whole, the work reflects upon othering, the concept in which certain groups like Black and queer are positioned as different from and inferior to the mainstream. The first piece, Prayer, occurs in the outdoor amphitheater several hours after a downpour. The sky dusky, the air sultry, showgoers . . . THREE MINUTES TO READTO READ THE BALANCE OF MY REVIEW, PLEASE VISIT THE DANCE ENTHUSIAST.Photo by NIC Kay