The Finish Line
nEW festival review: Pluck /Tania Isaac dance, UArts Dance Theatre at the Drake, Jan. 26-27
Pluck's Karl Schappell begins Automatic Bastard bent over while exhorting, "It's not my fucking fault." He goes on to assert, "This is not a biography," and warns viewers that we need not "try and read anything deep or meaningful into any of this." All of which makes you think straightaway, thy performer doth protest too much. Schappell's wide-ranging tales (or mental meanderings) give off more than a whiff of personal off-loading, and even if the content isn't exactly true to life, you sense that his profanity-laced non sequitur vignettes about being bullied as a youngster and assorted other injustices, all packaged under the guise of pithy pondering, are meant to provoke us into thinking there is meaning within the madness.
Beyond the rat-a-tat text, it is Schappell's stage presence that truly captivates. He's large, with a bit of a gut, has one arm fully sleeved in tattoos, and wears an undershirt, tighty whities and black socks (about midway through he adds a white business shirt). The look immediately suggests his role as vulnerable wacko. His movement is both jaggedly aggressive and gently graceful, to further externalize the yin and yang of his character's psyche. Meanwhile, the music (featuring Sigur Ros and Carl Orff) casts an atmosphere of apprehension. So there's real bite here. Still, Schappell at times seems self-conscious in his attempt to be avant-garde, while his scathing solo's abrupt ending makes the work feel unfinished.
Tania Isaac Dance's show also felt unfinished, but that was by design: The performance was a workshop where Isaac and company member Melissa Chisena presented movement phrases from two works in progress. Isaac explained that we were seeing "ideas coming out," and that some the material might make it into a finished piece, or maybe not.
At the outset, Isaac invited everyone onto the stage to view several large sheets of paper with notes and sketches that represented thoughts on possible choreography. Next came the demonstrations, which, while short and not particularly related to one another, were nonetheless alluring, thanks to both dancers' lithe, expressive bodies. Isaac was, as usual, a riveting presence; her style, which combines elements of her Caribbean heritage with modern and contemporary dance, projected an athletic energy tempered by a soft, pliable essence. During the excerpts, the dancers held deep, inward focus. Yet they were open enough that the audience became part of an intimate exercise of the creative process happening in the here and now.
Pluck /Tania Isaac dance, UArts Dance Theatre at the Drake, Jan. 26-27
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