by Leigh Witchel
What better way to blow out 100 candles? The Merce Cunningham Trust, along with BAM, UCLA and London’s Barbican, celebrated Cunningham’s 100th birthday in a grandly appropriate fashion, with a performance of 100 of his solos done in all three locations. Cunningham was known for his remixes of repertory to create new performances; this huge mashup was, appropriate to the occasion, a Great Big Event.
The New York performance was staged by Patricia Lent using 25 dancers (with an understudy, it wound up being 26) from a broad swath of the dance community. The curtain rose on a man and a woman, balancing, walking slowly, tilting to high notes. Another man entered, then another woman. Pat Steir’s digital backdrop changed color periodically, but most often was a series of silver/gray tones that looked like a frozen waterfall or an ice floe.
Seeing Cunningham’s work again was a reminder that, with its cool independence both in vocabulary and composition, it looked like no one else’s work – and still doesn’t.
Dancers came and went, and those essential things still looked like Cunningham even on dancers who don’t have his technique as their home base. Claude “CJ” Johnson, who dances with Kyle Abraham’s A.I.M., jumped, tucking his legs up in a diamond and extending one arm to the side than the other. It recalled bharatanatyam.
With any dance technique, even ballet, there isn’t a single way to do it, but a hazy penumbra of technique with different accents and priorities. The freer sections of choreography were the most telling. Everyone in the cast tried to do vocabulary as close to “by the book” as they could manage. But when they swayed or reached, they were themselves. Reid Bartelme, who created the basic unitards with Harriet Jung, tossed his torso and stared at us. That moment was freer, smoother and less defined than a Cunningham dancer would have done it.
How to watch this conglomeration? As solos or as a dance? You could try to watch it as a whole, but there was no point – it was parts. But like all of Cunningham’s choreography, the various parts worked fine together. Imagine trying this with choreography by Graham or Balanchine.
The dancers were a wide-cross section of ages, types, races: Cunningham for every body. In her high 60s, Vicky Shick did a gently treading solo while Anson Zwingelberg, a recent Juilliard graduate, raced out and spun to the floor. Chalvar Monteiro, who dances with Ailey, raced in with his torso moving in counterpoint to his legs.
As Steirs’ backdrop changed, the dance continued in silence, as it had been rehearsed. When the sound picked up it sounded like noises from a rally a football field away. All in gold, Mariah Anton danced a solo that looked like straight ballet: jumps, triplets, jetés en tournant, she even did low rotating turns in second position, straight out of a man’s character variation.
Around the mid-point, the dancers assembled to do the most accommodating of pieces, 4’33”, where each chose the three positions they posed in. It was appropriate; it was first done at John Cage’s tribute in 1994. After, Keith Sabado came out riding a bicycle and everyone finally laughed. Jason Collins danced a solo with a battery of cans affixed to his thighs like ruffled pantaloons.
There were a few glittery names, including Kyle Abraham, but no one was featured. The effect of appearance and passage was like an aquarium. But every now and again you ran across a particularly showy fish.
Sara Mearns has now given star turns in Duncan, Graham, Cunningham, and she’s likely next to try to revive Michael Flatley’s role in “Lord of the Dance.” Her Sherman’s March through dance technique has been more Katherine Hepburn than Meryl Streep: she’s a personality who never disappears into a role. It’s always as much Mearns as Duncan, Cunningham, Balanchine or Riverdance.
She was most herself when there was something she knew how to do, such as a side extension. Her leg went up so quickly, and so without resistance: like spaghetti powered by rockets. Watching Mearns attack a treacherous and disjointed solo filled with isolations of the upper and lower body was breathtaking. She went at it full tilt, but seemed to do all the arm isolations in her wrists. She attacked the balances the same way, but not being used to working barefoot, she was wobbly. To mangle John Cage, she had no idea what she was saying – and she was saying it. As loudly as possible.
This Very Special Event had a Very Cunningham Ending: everyone returned and changed positions periodically. Like many Events, it meandered, and there were points you tuned out and tuned back in. But by crowding 26 dancers and 100 candles on the cake, it made a very good birthday present.
copyright © 2019 by Leigh Witchel
“Night of 100 Solos: A Centennial Event” – Choreography by Merce Cunningham
BAM Howard Gilman Opera House, Brooklyn, NY
April 16, 2019
Cover: Jason Collins in “Night of 100 Solos: A Centennial Event.” Photo © Stephanie Berger.
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