Yerba Buena Center
San Francisco, CA
October 14, 2010
By Catherine Pawlick
Peach bellinis and lemon drops filled the hands of audience members and patrons at Lines’ Opening Night pre-performance reception on Thursday night, where summery cocktail dresses and business suits strolled mingled inside the tent at Yerba Buena Center for the Performing Arts. As conversation hummed, the audience prepared for the first San Francisco performance of “Scheherazade,” commissioned by Princess Caroline of Monaco with support from the Rudolf Nureyev Foundation. The first of Lines Ballet’s fall 2010 season, this performance proved to be anything but your grandfather’s version of the same ballet. Traditional Russian ballet, à la Mikhail Fokine this was not.
Set to a unique musical mix that references the trademark harp solos and violin themes so prevalent of Rimsky-Korsakov’s traditional “Scheherazade” score , but then layers Eastern musical instruments and African-sounding drum beats on top, this “Scheherazade” ventures further into the abstract from the well known tale of Persian passion. Token nods to the luxury of Old Arabia appear in the women’s costumes: rich peacock feathered- tutus, and ornately beaded, sequined dresses with short bustles. While the men, presumably representing slaves, are more sparsely dressed: dark brown shorts or longer, flared “skirts” and bare chests. From the initial interlude between Scheherazade and her slave, it is clear that the typical hierarchy is not present here.
First three dancers swathed in gauze enter, performing choreographer Alonso King’s usual complex cursive movements. Following Rimsky-Korsakov’s theme of the live harp, a fourth dancer in silver sequins joins the three, and the sound shifts to the lament of the violin. This is our Scheherazade. We see solo dancing from each of the three women, and after they depart a man enters in a green gauze skirt-pant. The visual dialogue between Scheherazade and this “slave” ensues, accented with urgent, sharp movements. A series of male solos follow their duet, the men dressed similarly in wide skirt-pants, and shirtless. As dancers enter and exit the stage, King seems to play with the concept of internal and external. Borders disappear, outward motion turns inward, inward movements are reversed. It’s as if we see the choreographer’s busy thoughts on stage. On a technical note, one dancer, in a stunning pink costume complete with bustle, played with teetering balances downstage, hovering and adjusting her limbs as she stood on one leg. Such balancing talent can rarely be found outside of Cuba; this dancer recalled the talents of Viengsay Valdez. After her brief solo, Scheherazade and the slave re-emerge, this time with a five-foot rope linking his ankle to hers. The symbol of slavery is clear, but as she pulls him, and he pulls her, the question arises: who here is the slave? King seems to question the surface of the Arabian tale, for his version is clearly not one of passion as much as it is a weighted, earthbound struggle. In fact, there’s nothing ethereal, passionate, or romantic here at all. The couple uses each other, pulling and twisting, folding over, and crawling, each movement an effort. They never float, but therein perhaps is the commentary on Scheherazade’s fate: she’s enslaved, at least as much as he is.
The music shifts to a lone female voice chanting and a tribal drum beat joins in before the violin theme returns. As the main couple disappear, another woman in a gorgeous peacock feather tutu dances, her arms appearing to preen. A man enters, is blindfolded, and attempts to reach out to the women around him. Five men in shorts dance together, one of them diving into the group of four, lifting the fifth high overhead. The Lines men, it must be said, are among the most athletic and toned that you can witness on stage today, the epitome of lean, muscular movement.
As the finale approaches, interludes of solo work overlap, with multiple dancers moving to their own inner rhythms at once. It’s almost visual overload, this much diverse movement, when suddenly King introduces a section of uniform ensemble work, and for a moment the eye relaxes onto form and structure. A line of nine people folds at the middle, as they move forward and back, their arms scooping imaginary water, or hope, from the ground to the sky. The drum beat increases, and other dancers enter and exit the stage in short bursts of powerful movement. Arms punch the air, quadruple pirouettes shoot off, and hovering balances continue. At last our Scheherazade slowly pushes the weighty slave offstage, her hand on the center of his chest, as the piece ends.
Alonso King has for more than a decade been known for his trademark choreography and unique approach not only to dance, but to dance composition. This “Scheherazade” is a modern approach to the Arabic tale, and one that prompts contemplation. From his talented, select group of performers, to the conceptual themes behind his work, King has succeeded in creating a novel production that, while far from classical, is certainly drenched in dance, in every sense of the term.
Author, "Vaganova Today: The Preservation of Pedagogical Tradition" (available on amazon.com)