Diavolo (review)

Diavolo. Diavolo Dance Theatre, Joyce Theater, New York, New York. 3 January 2001.

Bodies fly from a galleon in a tempest. Mysterious figures hurl themselves down a giant staircase. Arms and legs wrestle over a bench for territory and possession, or at least a place to sit. It is all in a daring night's work for the performers of Diavolo Dance Theatre, Jacques Heim's Los Angeles-based company, whose work often explores the human condition as it relates to our urban environment and the complexities of our relationships with each other. The company performed a repertoire of four pieces for their New York debut at the Joyce Theater on 3 January 2001.

Diavolo began with "Tete en L'Air" as the curtain rose to reveal an enormous staircase, which immediately evoked a sense of movement and travel. Distant sounds suggested activity, perhaps in a train station. In vests, jackets, and bowler hats, the company ascended the stairs one by one in a flow of humanity, playing the accordion, reading the newspaper, hauling luggage, or delivering flowers to a loved one who never arrived.

Heim found inspiration for "Tete" in the works of Belgian surrealist painter Rene Magritte and French filmmaker Jacques Tati. Magritte's influence revealed itself in the props: roses, bowler hats, veils, umbrellas, an apple, a birdcage. The piece evoked Tati's travel mishaps as bodies wiggled down the stairs inside black bags and stumbling travelers became overloaded with baggage. The luggage soon transformed from a symbol of mobility into a chaotic burden, giving rise to broadly comic sight gags (two dancers got tangled in each other's jackets, while another was shoved into a gigantic suitcase) and to haunting imagery of the distracted soul with his "head in the sky."

Intermingled with high-energy dance were several gasp and laugh inducing antics as the dancers skied, sled, and biked their way down the stairs. Heim used his masterful sense of drama and danger to riff on a theme and the audience was right there with him. One performer was launched through the air as a step flew open on its hinges, while others fell into the "trap doors" of steps that were left open. After the dancers changed onstage into formal gowns and tuxedoes and completed the last dance phrase of the piece, the steps closed, returning the staircase to its original form. External order was restored and a lone figure fell backwards off the top of the stairs in a final, cathartic moment.

In the second piece, "Apex," four dancers employed industrial strength ladders as their landscape. With whimsical music by John Adams and the dancers' deft maneuvering, the ordinary objects became extraordinary. The ladders transformed into a veritable jungle gym as the dancers began to move, providing Heim with a solid base for variation and choreographic structure. The piece ended in a comic moment as one dancer was left dangling precariously on top of a closed ladder. "Apex" was the simplest piece of the evening, and its clean lines and choreographic focus provided a contrast to the other work.

"Le Siege" began with a superb rough and tumble duet between Monica Campbell and Allen Moon, with Nicholas Erickson upstage trying to find a comfortable connection with a red wooden bench in a reflection of the duet's aggressive, yet sensual movement. As the rest of the company entered, the pace quickened and a game of keep-away began as Erickson fought for the bench. To his dismay, the second half of the piece revealed three more benches and chaos ensued as the performers pushed and pulled their way for possession. Bodies flew through the air and were caught, tackled, lifted and released in breathtaking vigor. By the end, the men and women divided and the women triumphantly stomped the benches in half, leaving everyone standing.

The final piece, "Trajectoire," was startlingly beautiful. The architectural focus of the piece was a large minimalist structure evoking the cross-section of a ship, designed by Daniel Wheeler. "Section I: L'ombre" began with a...