Yaledancers feature ballet, boxing, robots

SUSIE CHO/YH Yaledancers: reduced to a quivering mass by their art's power

The Yaledancers prove that the lack of an organized dance program at Yale by no means limits the options for performers and dance audiences. Their 1999 Fall Concert offers in just over 90 minutes what most Broadway and off-Broadway dance venues can't: a spectrum of styles ranging from modern jazz and classical ballet to what startlingly resembles a Tae Bo video. 13 different dance numbers by 11 different choreographers, and music ranging from Lauryn Hill to Ani DiFranco produce a variety of performances that range widely in concept and execution. At best, the Fall Concert offers original choreography and inspired, engaging performance. At worst, it devolves into repetitive gyrations and acrobatics—take the Austin Powers "FemBots," subtract their pink skivvies, and give them some real rhythm—but it always entertains.

It is a little-known fact that Madonna, before she discovered the creative opportunities afforded by cone-shaped cleavage support and anti-gravity hairspray, led a more austere life as a formally-trained modern dancer under the tutelage of Alvin Ailey and Martha Graham. While evidence of her talent and training appear in her public performances, one would be hard-pressed to find admiring appraisals of her technical precision and innovative choreography at her "Blonde Ambition" or "Girlie Show" tours.

The same rule applies to the program of the Yaledancers Fall Concert, minus the cone-reliant costumes. There are clearly members of the company who have an impressive level of both natural ability and formal training. Liz Vacco, SM '00, Kevin Morrison, Sidra Bell, SY '01, and Alexis Carra, MC '03, consistently strike the right balance of bodily control and precision while executing routines with a freedom of motion that make their limbs appear to possess lives of their own.

The show's best performances put to shame any expectations of simple spandexed jazz routines. Its standout piece is the impressively innovative "That Flutter, Flustered, Don't Blink, The End," choreographed by Vacco. In costumes resembling gnome-like space suits (think robotic Smurfs), the dancers execute a series of movements that alternately achieve a playful loss of bodily control and utterly controlled mechanical motion. Automatons moving to the harsh violin music of Niccolo Paganini, the dancers break into spasms of motion that are both comical and fascinating to watch. Indeed, the number succeeds so well because of how entirely integrated it is. The facial expressions of the dancers perfectly fit the mood, there is a constant interaction of limbs and movement, and even during the soloists' moments, every other performer is engaging to watch. Other strong pieces such as "I Can't Stand the Rain," and "Y Si Mi Amor" succeed as studies in motion and in their varied use of space and body positions on the stage. These numbers have a momentum and complexity others lack.

Yet the show sometimes suffers from choreography that is neither challenging nor original. Numbers such as "Daybreak," "For You," and "Precious Things" range in mood and tempo, but feel redundant. They rely heavily on repeated sequences of the same movements and compositional devices, often simultaneously performed by all the dancers. "Step It Up a Notch" uses almost the entire company in what appears to be a re-enactment of the fight scene in West Side Story, substituting aerobic kickboxers for somersaulting gang members. Dressed in T-Shirts, bicycle shorts and sneakers, the company combines sensual body language with aggressive boxing stances in a high-spirited number that appears to be as fun to perform as it is to watch (and listen to, thanks to a soundtrack featuring Lauryn Hill). Yet the piece still feels like an extended and lengthy cheerleading-cum-Chorus Line fantasy. Many of the sequences are also weakened by a lack of unity between the performers—there are a number of performances that feature truly complex and demanding choreography and staging, yet whose execution does not always do them justice.

The strongest numbers display what all the performances contain in potential: a repertoire of both subtle, controlled pieces and virtuoso displays of athletic ability. The group's talent is evident in individual flashes, but often requires a little more consistency and a greater measure of precision. Such finesse would make the difference between performances emphasizing bodily motion that feels alive and fluid, and those that feel like a troupe of dancers concentrating so hard on executing the choreography that they sap its personality, making it an entertaining visual accompaniment to a great soundtrack.

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