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Dance review: Mark Morris Dance Group performs ‘L’Allegro’ with L.A. Opera

May 6, 2011 |  2:16 pm

Morris

"L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato," choreographer Mark Morris' highly regarded dance work set to George Frideric Handel's sprawling baroque score, zoomed to "masterpiece" status at its debut in 1988; it's a biggie, a must, we're told. In Glorya Kaufman Presents Dance at the Music Center performances at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion this weekend, the lucky dance maker had as his collaborator the Los Angeles Opera -- its orchestra, choir and four gifted solo singers.

"L'Allegro," restaged in honor of Mark Morris Dance Group's 30th anniversary, unfolded in two generous halves, the first lengthier. The work's nice-and-easy pacing came as a blessing to the jumpy, text-messaging generation: OMG, Handel rocks!

Morris delivered his big meal in dollops that illustrated a paired set of odes by English poet John Milton. The "L'Allegro" bit connoted the vivacious, actively led life; the "Penseroso," the contemplative and introverted. Based on these truly lovely poems (as program inserts, unreadable in the dark theater), Handel spun his sublime score. Enter a librettist, Charles Jennens, who authored the "il Moderato" text, which advocates a middle path between extremes. (Are you getting all this, children?) The unutterably ambitious Morris united all this heady content when he was a 32-year-old dance director of Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie in Brussels.

On Thursday night, Morris showed his best known pure-dance mode by moving his 24 dancers through stage patterns suggestive of Busby Berkeley with Central European folk-dance roots. An impressive softness in the barefooted pitter-patter added to the work's initial serenity, and Morris' circular, zig-zagged and flat-lined patterns pleased.

L'Allegro Morris' fascination with the duality of his material found form in his use of mirrored dance shapes, and in his oscillation in tonality between darkness and light. But impatience mounted as the choreographer never loosened his grip. Further, the episodes rolled out sideways, with no particular arc. Hands tucked on waists, elbows out, faces in profile, the dancers shuffled in fiendish patterns, bah-dump, bah-dump on the downbeat, and a deadpan look emerged. Even before intermission, the disempowered troupers didn't seem to have any skin in the game. 

Morris then swapped to the work's other prime modality, the bucolic mise-en-scène, transformed into a classical painting by set designer Adrianne Lobel's sharply rectangular stage frames. James F. Ingalls' luminous high-contrast lighting signaled new moods. The infamous hunt scene ensued, but it all felt very far away with the orchestra interceding. Dancers embodied trees, and the boys played hound dogs, not a very far stretch for young men. There was humor, like the dogs finding relief on stage, so predictable you laughed in advance.

Despite the soloists' ethereal renderings, only bass-baritone John Relyea got his mouth around Milton's words. Sopranos Hei-Kyung Hong, Sarah Coburn and tenor Barry Banks fell short. This mattered; Morris worked closely in illustrating the text. The string-and-woodwind-dominated orchestra excelled. Every time the choir piped in, the experience improved. Lip-syncing conductor Grant Gershon may have been sweatier than the dancers by night's end.

"Sweet bird, that shun'st the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!" warbled Hong. Dancer Julia Warden soloed, garbed in Christine Van Loon's pretty-enough duo-colored shifts that rippled when Morris set the girls flying. The men's tights, cummerbunds and toga-tops did not flatter across the board. I didn't get the garish color palette.

By the time we reached the coda, "Mirth, with thee we mean to live," indicating the triumph of the "L'Allegro" faction, the magnificent music trumped the dance. Bound like stuffed animals throughout the evening, the dancers receded and Handel's horns burst forth, displacing choreography. The sound filled not only our ears, but miraculously, our every sense, including our eyes.

RELATED

Mark Morris' wedding of music and movement

-- Debra Levine

Mark Morris Dance Group in collaboration with L.A. Opera, Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., Los Angeles; 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday; $30 to $120. Information: (213) 972-0711 or www.musiccenter.org

Photos: The Mark Morris Dance group performs "L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato" at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Credit: Liz O. Baylen/Los Angeles Times


 
Comments () | Archives (14)

A shouldn't miss for dance lovers, and, as the reviewer points out, music lovers as well.

It's certainly not a contest but at the end of the night, Handel wins our hearts.

there was more art in a bag of M and M's....trivial, bucolic , superficially hedonistic walpaperdance of no interest what so ever. S C

Very disappointing for me Friday night. The choreography and the dancers were just a washout. No life, no passion from the dancers throughout about three-fourths of the evening. To seem stuck in neutral on stage is death. Give me Morris' choreography to Vivaldi's Gloria anytime over this one. Or The Hard Nut even.

as peggy lee sang, "Is that all there is?"

A joyous and glorious feast for the eyes and the ears on every single count. This is a big theatrical gift to Los Angeles. I was overwhelmed by the lavish flowing union of all the arts on the stage at the Music Center, the choreography,the conducting and singing, the exquisite lighting and set design. Bravo all. I'll stick with the crowd from Baryshnikov to Joan Acocella, "It's as if you opened a box and all of life hopped out" to Anna Kisselgoff, " life affirming communal celebration". It hasn't earned its widely held reputation as "a classic of the new-postmodern era" accidentally. The texts to the Milton odes were, sadly, the least of what Debra Levine could not read in the darkened theatre. More carping reviews like Debra Levines and great dance wont have a chance in this town.

If what I saw Friday night at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was "great dance," kill me now.

dear Ms. Levine,
sadly you missed the point entirely.
Has the craft of CRITICISM completely dulled
your ability to see ART?

I've been to a few dance concerts in Los Angeles and danced in a few, even at the Chandler. Mark Morris is the most important choreographer I have witnessed since Jerome Robbins. I felt that Morris understands the music and complemented it with a scope unseen except for perhaps Bejart's works in the seventies.
Actually, I was disappointed with the musicians of the L.A. Opera Orchestra.
The opening violin / viola duet in the piece was flat! Grant Gershon should be celebrated for his mastery of tempo and musicality. Frankly I felt the dance outshown the music.

That sure isn't what we saw Sunday afternoon. The performance was fantastic, and the audience exploded in an ovation - in a way one rarely sees in Los Angeles. The critic may have seen a very different performance the other evening - or not been able to see past her own biases.

This dance was a masterpiece, without quotes.
I moved to LA from a large city, thinking New York/LA are the two biggest cities in the US and have the best of everything.
If this is the best dance critic the LA Times can get, then I can do ANY job in this town I want!

After you let the mind go and your heart fill my dear reviewer you will be washed by the pure beauty of this great big, dreamy Handel shabang.

My three words to sum up this piece: shallow, obvious, and trite.

While accurate in some details (the experienced operatic sopranos were not really suited to this transparent vocal, the exquisite texts were illegible, etc), Ms Levine really shows little evidence for the art. Yes, the music is sublime -- but the conducting was pallid indeed (compare Christie, Bicket, McGegan, etc). As for the dance, to say the dancers were on autopilot is really to say Levine should be reviewing the latest hit 'STOMP AND SWEAT', not modern ballet.

In this vast village of LA, surely there must be one or two more sensitive and capable reviewers for this genre of performance.

A snooze-fest. An uninspired mediocre performance of a banal piece. End of story.


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