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Flash Review 2, 3-2: Less is Less
Predictable New Morris, Rote 'Prodigal' and 'Raymonda' at S.F. Ballet

By Aimée Ts’ao
Copyright 2001 Aimée Ts'ao

SAN FRANCISCO -- A true Flash Review this is not. Suffering for the past two and a half weeks from what I have jokingly dubbed the Cambodian flu (think Khmer Rouge), I have been operating at less than half speed. Add to it the influence of having seen both programs by Nederlands Dans Theater 1 February 21 and 24 and you've got the strange combination of slower faculties of perception with higher expectations for any other dance company. This was not a great mix to take to see Program 4 on the San Francisco Ballet at the War Memorial Opera House Tuesday night. Since I need to keep this sweet and short, I won't spend too much time on Balanchine's "Prodigal Son," though it is hard to believe that it was choreographed 72 years ago, or Nureyev's "Raymonda, Act III." Let's just say that despite some very technically proficient renderings by all the dancers, it is apparent that they have not been coached to understand how to develop valid interpretations of these roles. After watching NDT 1, and seeing dancers move in a totally committed way, it is difficult to see another company going through the motions. I go see dance because I want to be viscerally excited by it, not so I can sit primly and say "Oh, wasn't that nice."

The one piece I will discuss is Mark Morris's latest creation, "A Garden," to Richard Strauss's orchestrations and arrangements of keyboard pieces by Francois Couperin. Morris does not disappoint in the musicality department -- he rarely does -- but he does leave me wanting more depth. After his "Sandpaper Ballet" from two seasons back, and his own company's performance of "Four Saints in Three Acts," I have to say I don't particularly care for the direction Morris seems headed in. Where his earlier work is obviously thoroughly thought out and crafted, the recent pieces appear inconsequential in contrast. Yes, they are charming, and witty, and pleasing, yet something is missing.

The high point is a trio of men in the "Carillon" section. Christopher Stowell dances like a dream, and the choreography suddenly gels. I should say that this dance is generally well-constructed, not inspired, but it also becomes predictable and that is where I lose interest. I want to be intrigued and then led astray, to be whirled through the air and then dropped on the floor. At the very least, let the dancers enjoy themselves so much that we join in their pleasure.

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