HQ Review: Saint Louis Dance Theatre presents their Winter Concert (RE)BUILD
Sunday night’s performance of Saint Louis Dance Theatre’s newest production, (RE)Build opened with Notes on a Farewell, originally premiered by the company in May 2024 and choreographed by Tommie-Waheed Evans. The piece is a rush of virtuosic movement and bold unison sections typical of the company’s repertory. A handful of thin lights were suspended along the back of the stage dimly lighting the nine dancers in alternating warm tones. After breaking into various combinations of duets and solos with, among other familiar love ballads, “A Song For You” cycling in and out of a disjointed and echoing soundtrack, the work culminated with a pulsing electronic beat and high energy unison: tossing limbs, stomping feet, and undulating spines peppered with elongated positions of the arms and legs amid impressive turns, lifts, and leaps. Slowly, the lights looming above the dancers disappeared, and we were left with a single performer dancing alone in dim light as the curtain lowered. Notes on a Farewell serves as an apt example of the athletic prowess of this particular group of dancers.
Set to Bach’s “Chaconne,” José Limón’s piece of the same name was choreographed and performed by Limón in 1942. The solo is a masterclass in the power of simplicity and is profound both in its emotive capacity and its dignified restraint. Chaconne was performed by Angel Khaytyan and opens with a single circle of white light around Khaytyan, dressed entirely in black, as he leans and pivots in slow methodical movement. The stage was gradually and simply illuminated, reinforcing the formal austerity inherent in this historic dance. Set directly after the whirlwind of movement and bravado of Notes on a Farewell, the straightforward and tidy nature of Chaconne provided a powerful change in tone. Alone on stage for the duration of the piece, Khaytyan’s movements were fluid and broad, courtly and contained. He provided an engaging interpretation of this work, and his emotional capacity within the exacting and precise nature of the choreography was memorable.
In the opening moments of Good Grief by Jamar Roberts, small white lights dotted the upstage wall as a row of dancers stood together in pairs, seemingly chatting to one another. Dressed in black “pedestrian” clothing, three dancers came down the stage, moving towards the audience and danced as a trio, washed in blue light and lush jazz music. Their movement was sharp and sudden, flowing quickly with angular elbows and limbs swiping in long lines across the stage. The piece would continue in this way, cycling between duets, trios, and unison in a nearly unbroken rhythm of movement. The highlight of Good Grief was a series of solos that occurred one after the other towards the middle of the piece. Each solo, a welcome reprieve from the quick unison dancing of the rest of the piece and impressive in its expression, was met with spontaneous applause from the audience. The third solo in the series was especially memorable. Performed by Demetrius Lee, in whom the music seemed to pluck at some hidden string inside him, was propelled into movement in a way we had not seen in the rest of the piece. Lee demonstrated a remarkable mastery of his movement, the music, and the emotional expression of this solo.
The highlight of the night was the delightfully absurd Sechs Tänze. Choreographed by Jiří Kylián in 1986, the piece premiered at the Nederlands Dans Theater and represents the first work by Kylián to be performed by a St. Louis dance company. Set to Mozart’s “German Dances,” it is a thirteen-minute smorgasbord of impish antics. Dancers were clad in white Baroque-inspired clothing, complete with powdered wigs and corsets, and they demonstrated feats of comedic physicality reminiscent of a Buster Keaton film. There were dancers pulled off stage when the floor suddenly came out from under them, a missing costume revealing a single fig leaf, a bright green apple speared with a sword, and a mock beheading. Powder escaped wigs in small puffs as dancers moved about the stage and lingered above their heads like thin white clouds illuminated by the stage lights. The piece required a great deal of acting from the dancers, who moved through the work with animated grimaces and lighthearted expressions. The company worked with the same precision we have come to expect from them, at times in unison and at others times in various iterations of comedic pas de deux. Soap bubbles descended from the ceiling in a cascade of iridescent sparkle as performers looked out at the audience bemusedly before setting themselves to popping the bubbles falling around them. Sechs Tänze was a charming way to end the evening, and a reminder of the range and capacity in this talented company of dancers.
Photos by Kelly Pratt provided by Saint Louis Dance Theatre