Benn Widdey turns in another review of L.A. performance. Check it out, cuz this shit sounds hot, and it’s comin’ to NYC in the Spring!

(Photos by Scott Groller)

University professor cum downtown dance choreographer Victoria Marks revealed the latest of her socio-political movement explorations, Not About Iraq, at the recently renovated Gloria Kaufman Dance Theater at UCLA this weekend (October 5-6, 2007). With three future performance dates throughout the country, including March dates at the Danspace Project in NYC, the evening-length work for Marks and six others culminates several years of work for the woman and her collaborators.

Beginning with program notes that pay homage to Neil Greenberg’s Not About AIDS Dance and words that answer the artist’s self-imposed inquiry about civic responsibility as an artist, Marks takes off on an intricate and layered exploration of dancing and communication with inferences to war and peace. Standing at the front of the stage, Taisha Paggett calls to the lighting board operator to turn the lights on and starts to move in slow extended motions, reaching a leg one way and turning to the other direction, sweeping an arm or holding a pose as Marks, seated in the audience like the rest of us, audibly states “This is beautiful.” The choreographer repeats her statement several times as the dancer, dressed in black slacks and a short sleeved shirt with military-like epaulets, continues to move. She soon modifies her description to “This is sexy.”

As the movement choices remain clearly balleto-modern–long legs, lengthened feet, parallel legged releves–and the gestures similarly graceful and abstract, we soon see/hear that the words Marks selects are almost arbitrary choices; familiar, yet far from exact and completely subjective. Paggett, herself, labels her shapes, signals and motions in a more directly connected way, but we see the difficulty in trying to identify abstract movement in a verbal codified language. Meanwhile, the sounds of whirring helicopter blades get louder and louder and Marks attempts to match their volume while she repeatedly shouts, “This is silence!” and “Everything is OK!” Clearly, we see that words can be purposefully manipulated in order to define, justify, explain or even confuse those without first hand experience with the matter at hand. Think government. Think dance criticism.

The choreographer/educator/filmmaker continues to obscure the situation as she brings a cast of smiling-in-your-face dancers onto the stage in short black dresses or tops and shorts (five women and a man) doing simple and light locomotor steps, gestural references to party dancing, simple wiggles and an almost giggling energy. Paggett returns here and there to remind us of what she said/didn’t say, crouching and rhythmically rippling her back (think African dance, or just plain sex) or, at other times, just walking stately and regally on and off the stage.

As this party continues and Glenn Branca’s electric guitar and drums sounds increase in volume, some of these dancers slide face down onto the floor and, without using their hands, slither to the wings. They’re blown back onto the space by an unseen force, only to dive down and slink on their bellies to exit the stage again. They return once more to punch at the air, slash to their sides and throw their entire body into every limb’s flailing. Occasionally, one woman holds another woman’s arm in the air as if triumphant, but the battle goes on and it doesn’t look like anyone’s winning.

At times, this contrast became a little didactic and I was afraid the polemics were getting the better of the evening, but soon Maria Gillespie and Noellie Bordelet bumped into each other on the floor. A very beautiful and evocative duet ensued, all about rolling, supporting and comforting one another, with no one seeming to lead but with each other’s roles very specific and precise. Amy Denio and Doug Wieselman made the rapturously tender music for this relationship and, yes, all was right in the world again.

The fiercely dynamic performers also included Paolo Alcedo, Saleemah Knight and Phithsamay Linthahane, with a subtle but sublime lighting design by Carol McDowell.