Big Dance Theater: Big Dance—Short Form

Big Dance: Short Form—Review by Helen Shaw

Big Dance Theater turns 25 this year. It hasn't been a lazy quarter-century either—there have been 20 full-length shows in that time, as well as the many collaborations co-directors Annie-B Parson and Paul Lazar have done with others. It would be a good time to rest on some laurels, surely? And in a way, their current program of microworks at the Kitchen feels that way. Short Form is a relaxed tour of brief, gently ironic dance pieces choreographed by Parson, some of which have appeared in other contexts, all of which let us examine the beloved company's talent for loopy humor and fiercely precise movement.

As a choreographer, Parson does a lot of work with non-dancers—theatrically (for Here Lies Love, among others), in concerts (for David Byrne and St. Vincent) and even with Big Dance itself, which often makes its work for a group of, shall we say, diversely talented movers. Here, everybody's a pro. It's one of Short Form's chief pleasures to see Parson's movement performed by full-bore modern dancers: they give an urgency to her traditional vocabulary of flat hands, butoh–inspired shuffles, ramrod shoulders and springing leaps. Tymberly Canale, one of our great stage beauties, brings a deep, earthy sadness to Summer Forever; then Aaron Mattocks blasts through Short Ride Out (3): He Rides Out with a centaur's energy—below the waist he's strength and animal propulsion, above it, he's as coy and still as a van Dyck portrait.

There are also two duets, little soufflés. First, Lazar and Canale do a sweet double-act in the goofy Resplendent Shimmering Topaz Waterfall, which is based, somehow, on the notations on a single page of notes by butoh pioneer Tatsumi Hijikata; then in The Art of Dancing, Elizabeth DeMent and Mattocks don curly wigs to play the Restoration diarist Samuel Pepys, capering around in silver pants and reading huffily into rolling microphones. Finally, the show gets so silly and light that it effervesces. The piece Intermission is an actual intermission, but also a party, with balloons and beer and the audience welcomed onstage for mingling and chat.

Unfortunately, for a series that's so clearly about shape and shapeliness, the evening itself has a slightly awkward conclusion. After Intermission, we move into the relatively lengthy final work Goats (2009), which imagines a company trying to make a dance-adaptation of Heidi. DeMent, again great, plays a temperamental diva forgetting her lines, but even her naughtiness seems rhythmically out-of-step. It's not the fault of the piece, it's simply too hard for the show to come back from Intermission, during which the evening's energy fizzed over with love for the company. We drank! We toasted! We played ping-pong! And as it ended, someone sang “The Party's Over,” as Lazar swept up. If ever there was an ending for a 25th birthday bash, there it was. Go home, everybody. See you next year.—Helen Shaw

The Kitchen (Off-Off Broadaway). Choreographed by Annie-B Parson. Directed by Parson and Paul Lazar. With ensemble cast. Running time: 1hr 40mins. One intermission.