Biblical texts were as good as weapons in the last piece of the David Dorfman Dance performance at the CFA Theater last Friday. The books were wielded like knives, two male dancers physically interpreting through a wildly athletic dance style the violence and hypocrisy present in modern day debates over holy land and God. That the David Dorfman Dance dealt with such a politicized, heated issue may be out of the ordinary to purists, but Dorfman has never been a classically influenced choreographer.
Dorfman was a business major when he enrolled in his first dance class junior year at Washington University in St. Louis. The regular Joe Schmo, whose somewhat beefy, stout physique lacks the lean narrowness of a stereotypical dancer, just happened to love dancing, but ultimately made a career out of this love. His everyman attitude is also evident in the way he clothes his dancers in modest, practical costumes. This is not to say that Dorfman’s physical capabilities are any less sophisticated than those of other dancers; some of his most spectacular actions take place within the briefest instant, leaving the audience to wonder exactly how Dorfman manipulates his limbs so quickly. Dorfman’s vocabulary exchanges the delicate phrases of classical dance for dynamic, almost violent action, and is most likely responsible for attracting a certain demographic to his work that usually doesn’t “buy” modern dance.
Dorfman’s work has its origin in the context of the early 1980s conviction that anybody can dance and that any action can qualify as dance. Iconoclastic almost to a fault, the contemporary dance movement opened the doors to all types of expression. Rooted in emotion and feeling, the stoicism of classical dance gave way to deeply personal and revelatory statements on stage.
“Lightbulb Theory,” the first piece Dorfman and company performed on Friday, was a prime example of Dorfman’s embrace of the theatrical expression of personal turmoil. Choreographed in remembrance of his late father, the piece was equal parts elegy and celebration. Dorfman’s limbs were electric under the glow of a string of lightbulbs, and he often moved fast enough that he appeared to be on the verge of taking flight. In addition to the impressive choreography, Dorfman also delivered a witty and poignant monologue on his father’s life and death.
Dorfman tempered the sadness with bittersweet images that presented filial love in a way that escaped the hackneyed sentiment of a Hallmark card but kept its accessibility.
“He is sharing a personal story about his father but he does so in such a way…[that] the viewer is really given an opportunity to experience their own remembrance of their loved ones,” said Kim Root, visiting professor of dance, during an accompanying pre-show talk.
Dorfman began many of his short musings on the life of his father with the comic lead-in “Have you heard the one about the man…” and continued with brief glimpses of the father-son relationship.
Soon after Dorfman exited the stage, dancers Tzveta Kassabova, Paul Matteson, Heather McArdle, Jennifer Nugent, and Joseph Poulson broke the mournful tone with a shockingly upbeat, Rockettes-style line dance. Herman’s Hermits’ “There’s a Kind of Hush (All Over the World)” sixties pop hit provided the incongruous musical opposition to composer Michael Wall’s beautifully melancholy original piano score from the first half of the piece. The five dancers countered Dorfman’s effect with what felt at first to be an adolescent irreverence. They whooped and cheered like teenagers, turning monosyllabic noises into words until the words became monosyllabic noises. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” morphed into “Help! Help! Help!” which (somewhat predictably after a few chants) became “Hope! Hope! Hope!” There, “Lightbulb Theory” treaded on slightly maudlin ground, but ultimately it neither detracted nor added to the piece.
Stylistically, the second piece of the evening “approaching some calm” represented the physicality Dorfman Dance is known for. The duet was a sequel to Dorfman’s “approaching no calm,” choreographed ten years ago. Dorfman and duet partner Lisa Race performed “approaching no calm” as director and dancer, respectively. The sequel and its creative process were reflective of their relationship now as husband and wife. Though there was no way to glean what differences the two duets hold, or even to tell, without prior knowledge, that “approaching some calm” had an earlier counterpart, it was clear that the piece dealt with issues of love and companionship. Dorfman and Race moved with each other so as to suggest an intimate trust, interdependence and faith. He swung and carried her dizzyingly through the air. Later, she gingerly walked on his rotating body like a lumberjack on a log.
“I really enjoyed the interaction between the two dancers. I liked the energy they created together, that they were in synch and doing the same dance in different ways,” said Ilana Gross ’09. “From what I’ve seen of dance, it’s incomparable.”
“At first, being stage crew, we would just stand around and get really nervous around the dancers,” said Stephanie Fungsang’08, who worked backstage for the performance. “To me, dancers and performers always seem like demigods…what was really interesting was to kind of seeing humanity in them…it brought them down to a different level. It was interesting because when he did the curtain call, they did it all in pedestrian clothing…Dave was out of costume, Lisa was out of costume, the dancers came out in their sweats. It gave the audience a chance to see they’re just people.“
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