We Review: Compañía Nacional de Danza
At first, we weren't ready to like Artistic Director Nacho Duato's work Castrati--out of the gate it felt strained, and we worried that the topic (castrated Italian boys who became famous singers) would be too easily over-dramatized. Set to a series of works by Vivaldi, it opens with a group of men wearing low cut gowns, half dress-half cape numbers in all black; we later deduce these are the veteran castrati, their mission to bring vulnerable new recruits into the fold. They waver between almost inquisition-styled menacers, with striking unison choreography that relies heavily on canons and repetition to lend a military feel, and older-brother, caring mentors who swoon and partner each other gently--in the latter roles they shed their black robes to reveal sparkly corsets and tights underneath. The contrast worked, illustrating the dual lives these men endured, the loss of that which defined then as men simultaneously bringing them great fame and adoration.
The recruit, who should have taken center stage, was unfortunately outshined by one particular corps member. Without names in the program notes, we can't be certain, but we suspect it was Clyde Archer (who along with Duato was also a member of Alvin Ailey's company for some time). His mere presence on the stage distracted from whatever unlucky souls shared his space; most poignantly, when he appeared sans robe in a corset for the first time, his solo left us unable to reconnect lower jaw to upper. For the topic at hand, he was perfect--there is no other way to put it: he danced like a woman. That is not to say he was feminine, but the expressiveness of his movements were in the range of what we'd previous expected only from prima ballerinas. Most men's bodies simply can't move as his does, which whether intentional or not, was a perfect meta touch for the piece.
The second work, Gnawa, was slightly disappointing most likely due to it's placement in the program. While intended to explore Duato's mediterranean roots, we found the choreography did not match the richness and complexity of the Moroccan music, and was overall too stiff and formal. As a second course to Castrati, it was too lightweight, an appetizer served after a main course of filet mignon. We caught ourself daydreaming mid-way through.
As for the final piece, White Darkness, our feelings remain mixed. Ostensibly a reflection on the devastation doled out on relationships and society by drugs, we just never really bought it. The drugs were all too literally represented by a white powder that fell from the rafters above. Between a couple who played the central role, and the corps' interspersed sections, we expected them to become fully consumed, dragged down into despair. But again, the choreography did not match the metaphor: formal pas-de-deux moments separated by seemingly pointless running left the work as a whole disconnected. Only when one couple from the corps pulled off a spectacular "tweaker" duet did we see a spark. We were almost convinced towards the end, when the woman in the primary couple was eventually consumed by the powder: after a staggering duet where her partner continues to try to drag her from the piles of powder scattered about the stage, his motions strong yet frustrated while she becomes increasingly frantic and wild. He finally relents, and at the end she stands alone at the back of the stage in a pool of light as the powder continually rains down on her. A bit overwrought perhaps, but a stunning final image nonetheless.
Despite some of our complaints about the choreography, what struck us most about the dancers was their effortlessly skilled technique. They are some of the most technically strong yet versatile performers we've watched in some time, yet we never felt like that point was being pushed on us. Their performances were seemingly effortless and equally humble.
