AKASHA DANCE COMPANY
Akasha Dance Company recently celebrated its tenth anniversary at the Ruth Page Theater in a program of works created over the last nine years. But the artistic range was narrow. Akasha is unique in the Chicago area for its long-term devotion to humorous dance–it’s unusual to see such technically accomplished performers so ecstatic at the opportunity to look ridiculous. As a repertory group, it relies on commissioned work, and Akasha has provided a creative outlet for such talented Chicago choreographers as Shirley Mordine and Timothy O’Slynne. But because Akasha must draw on a variety of choreographers, there’s no consistent vision or quality to the humor, which sometimes hits the mark and sometimes doesn’t. And the troupe seems so single-mindedly joke oriented–at least on this program–that the effect is monochromatic.
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Mordine’s serious, thoughtful, long, and complex Arc (1985) stood out for just that reason. A program note quoting Genesis brought to mind Noah’s ark and the idea of male and female pairs: like the metaphysical poets, Mordine yokes unlikely concepts, as Donne once linked his love with the image of a compass. Here Mordine takes a movement idea–the arc, represented at first by a semicircle of light across the stage and then by two dancers’ arced arms, torsos, and legs–and, punning, marries it to a resonant image from the Bible. But though these six dancers are often paired, the pairs themselves are not stable, and the dancers just as often form singles and trios.
You have to respect the choreographer’s and dancers’ accomplishment in Vastus Sylva: together they turn what is essentially unnatural movement for human beings (hauling yourself across the floor on stiff arms, legs dragging; crawling with another person attached to you like a giant parasite) into natural-looking movement that genuinely recalls the characteristics of other species. But the price paid for the finesse is a certain stasis, a certain predictability. Though the dance is funny, it’s funniest on a first viewing; its appeal fades with time.
But one sight gag does not a dance make. I’m all for funny dances–so many dancers and choreographers take themselves so seriously that antidotes are more than welcome. But the genuinely funny dance, the dance that’s witty and intelligent and surprising, is a rare animal, perhaps too rare to stalk exclusively.
