Entertaining Mom this weekend? Check this handy guide to find the best fit.
Posted by: Anne Adams on May 05, 2011 at 06:00AM0 Comments
Mom’s mind will be blown by your entertainment planning prowess.
What do you get the mother who has everything? “Perishables and trinkets,” say experts. “Soap. Candles. Candy. Perfume. Or brunch.” But let’s assume your mother already smells fine, and isn’t hungry? What then?
That’s when you resort to another can’t-miss classic: Tickets, plus your time. Culturephile has culled the weekend calendar for your best bets for mom-friendly memory-making. We’re also going to clue you in as to which ones are bolder, which are safer, and which have limited seating—because if you’ve ever tried to show Mother a good time, you already know how much these details matter.
Gallery Gazing
Standing/walking required.
(ALLWEEKEND) Portland Art Museum’s Riches of a City . Let mom marvel at a piece of 15th-century Ming dynasty pottery, and puzzle out the lines of a Picasso. It’s a harmless way to while away the day and keep out of this punishing Oregon sun. (Mild)
(FRI) YU Contemporary Gallery Opening . Open-minded beat-generation mamas might be keen on Portland’s newest force in contemporary art, which opens its doors Friday with a nod to the city’s avant-garde arts past. Turns out this town has hosted some of the weirdest, wildest—and most world-renowned—visual artists. (Medium-spicy)
Gritty Gal Theater
Seated. *
(SAT-SUN) BUST at Portland Center Stage If your mom has a bleeding-heart humanitarian side, a self-deprecating wit, or both (and can cope with a few curses), then she’ll appreciate this amazingly agile and touching one-woman comedy, written and performed by former Daily Show contributor Lauren Weedman, which relives experiences volunteering in a tough women’s prison. (Hot)
(ALLWEEKEND) Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom at Portland Playhouse. Mom might get inspired by this bold, brilliant Black diva from the Detroit Jazz Renaissance, back-sassing the studio that’s trying to record her. (Hot)
*Note: Portland Playhouse’s lobby is a little tight to maneuver in. If that’s a dealbreaker, consider the deal broke.
Modern Dance
Seated.
(ALLWEEKEND) BodyVox’s A Thousand Little Cities A whirlwind of costume changes and different emotional tones means there’s something for everybody, and probably plenty for Mom. Take it all in and then ask, “What was your favorite part?” (Mild)
(ALLWEEKEND)Jefferson Dancers Spring Program at the Newmark These young (14-18) yet professional dancers have a reputation for disciplined perfection, and for presenting edgy, challenging material that’s arguably beyond their years. Uber-modern moms will say “hooray”; but milder ones might go, “Gosh.” (Medium spicy)
Paul McCartney Fan Jam
Standing/walking required.
(SAT) Get your mom a bag to breathe into—Paul McCartney is NOT in town. However, local musician and McCartney enthusiast Dave Depper will do his best to channel “the cute one,” playing the entire Ram album at Doug Fir, backed by many of Portland’s chamber-folk elite. (Medium-spicy)
Sensitive Ponytailed Piano Man
Seated.
(SUN) Markus Groh at the Newmark If your mom’s anything like mine, his pigtail will not pass muster—but she’ll be instantly won over by the silvery tones and agile arpeggios of Markus Groh’s marvelous piano playing. (Mild)
World Music, Asian Culture
Seated.
(SAT/SUN) Portland Taiko’s Ponta & The Big Drum “Tiger Moms,” as well as those with a yen for travel and world music, should love the thrumming rhythms and sense of adventure that come standard with a Portland Taiko performance. And rest assured, these percussion pro’s will keep their levels low enough to please Mama’s sensitive ears. (Mild)
Classy French Cinema
Seated.
(ALLWEEKEND) A Deneuve Dozen at NWFilm Center French film icon Catherine Deneuve is an exceedingly rare breed of actress: a beautiful woman, that other women unbegrudgingly love. Moms will likely swoon for selections that feature the now-68-year-old actress in her prolonged prime, and “glamor moms” will find an excuse to preen over their own timeless loveliness. (Medium spicy)
Girlish Folk Singers
Limited seating.
(SUN) Mirah + Thao at Wonder Ballroom Mirah, who hails from a Pennsylvania maple syrup farm, has a knack for soft, wounded musings and coy innuendo, while Thao’s style is a little tougher. Together, they should strike a nice emotional balance that au courant moms can appreciate. Go really early to snag upstairs seating; otherwise, Mom may get stuck swaying amid a throng of slightly smelly bicycle-borne hipsters. (Medium spicy)
Elvis-Era Rock-n-Roll
Limited seating.
(SAT) Wanda Jackson at Roseland Wowza—Wanda was a dish back in her day. She dated Elvis, belted out powerful soul and blues hits, and was informally crowned “Queen of Rockabilly” by the pompadour crowd. Well, long live the Queen, who has recently proven her lasting relevance by working with the White Stripes’ Jack White. Moms with a severe case of 50s nostalgia—or just a lot of moxie—will be wildly inspired. (Medium spicy)
Nature’s Majesty
Standing/walking, or seated.
(ALLWEEKEND) Unable (for whatever reason) to squire your outdoorsy mother around the Japanese Gardens, Chinese Gardens, or one of the three famous local Rose Gardens ? Don’t fret, the big giant screen at The OMSI Film Festival projects crystalline visions of nature at a scale that could swallow Mom whole. Expect her to grab your arm and gasp during eye-popping flicks like Sea Rex and Journey into Amazing Caves. (Mild)
Oregon Ballet Theatre’s Principal Dancer reminisces about some of her favorite experiences as she prepares to retire this weekend.
Posted by: Aaron Scott and Anne Adams on Apr 28, 2011 at 06:00AM2 Comments
Anne Mueller and OBT’s Artistic Director Christopher Stowell share a hug. This weekend she retires as a dancer and takes a new role with the company.
This weekend, Anne Mueller will dance three pieces in Song And Dance: a noir-ish ensemble number with chairs (Left Unsaid ), an agressive hiphop throwdown pas de deux (Speak ) and a lighthearted full-ensemble romp to classic showtunes and jazz standards (Eyes On You ). Then she’ll hang up her toe shoes and retire from a 15-year dance career, ducking behind the scenes to serve as a teacher and repetiteur. Before she goes, Mueller takes the time to reminisce in this interview with Culturephile:
Tell us about some of your favorite memories from your time dancing with OBT.
Gosh, I have so many of these types of memories….I think I could talk for hours about all of them! To try and capture a few:
Moments
Many years ago we did a tour to Colorado. It was a pretty tough tour as we performed in 2 or 3 cities in just 3 or 4 days. We had to deal with dancing a really physical repertoire at high altitude with no time to adjust to the thin air. The morning we left, we had just spent a very short night at a less-than-glamorous Rodeway Inn (which came to be known in company stories as the Roachway Inn). I’m sure there are many lovely Rodeway Inns in the country, but this was not one of them. Our bus call was at 4:00 am on a Sunday morning, which happened to be my Birthday. We were on the plane flying home and I was deep into a really good book. A flight attendant came up to me and started bugging me. I had a short fuse and really just wanted to enjoy my book. Just as I was about to let this guy know how I was feeling about him, he handed me a glass of white wine (an actual glass,not a plastic cup) and a card. I opened the card and was so very touched to see that my fellow company members had not only remembered my birthday, but had taken up a collection to get me a very generous gift certificate at a fantastic Portland boutique. I felt truly loved by a lot of wonderful people.
Years later, I got engaged to my incredibly awesome husband. We had decided that we were going to line up all the marriage paper work and such but not plan a wedding of any kind. First we thought we’d get married on vacation in Puerto Rico, but the extensive bureaucratic mess that would have been discouraged it. We decided to just wait until the mood hit us, then tie the knot spur of the moment. With this plan, I think my co-workers were a bit confused about how to celebrate the event. That was the same year that OBT launched the “Who’s Your Dancer” campaign. Designer Adam Arnold outfitted all of us for those first posters. He then asked Brennan Boyer and I to be in his Spring fashion show. He made a polka dotted dress for me for the show. It’s wonderful, cream and strapless with a poofy skirt and the polka dots are like spumoni ice cream. Lars and I discussed buying the dress from him after the show since I was feeling like “if there was ever a wedding dress that suited me, this would be it”. The price was too high, so we let it go. About a month later I walked into the dance studio for morning class and had that feeling when I walked in the room like everyone had just been talking about me (that awkward silence). I looked over at my barre spot and hanging there, tied with a matching bow, was the dress, a wedding gift to me from my co-workers. I love that dress!!!!!!!
I’m not sure why both of these stories are about fashion. They aren’t really about dancing, but they are about the bond that develops among a group of people that work so closely together under very high pressure; it’s very special and I suspect one of the things I’ll miss the most.
Pieces
In no particular order…
Serenade (Everyone who’s danced it says that; it’s like participating in an ancient ritual or rite of passage)
Duo Concertant (with my dear friend Karl Vakili, also later with Lucas Threefoot)
Earthbound (We only did it once, but it was very special to everyone who danced it)
Just (There is a short, lyrical duet that I danced with Alison Roper. It’s a small section, but so quiet, lyrical, powerful, and feminine. We are very close friends and this was made on us by another friend, Trey McIntyre)
Concerto 622 (a really joyful, group experience)
Rite of Spring (my favorite role ever, so challenging, so primal)
Eyes on You (which we’re doing right now; I love to see all the cast members dancing beautifully while also being wonderfully funny)
Bolero (truly life-affirming)
I’m sure I’m missing a ton.
Music
Would probably be the same list. There is some music that I love that I never danced to, some selections by Satie, Ravel, and Arvo Part.
Audience
Definitely the first time I danced “Go Ask Alice”. I had just joined the company and I had come here from a more conservative community (in terms of audience reactions). The curtain went up and many of the ladies (including myself) in the company were pre-set onstage for the “Breathe” number. The audience went absolutely nuts at the start of that piece, like a rock concert. They were screaming and waving lighters in the air.
You must have imagined being a principal dancer in a professional company, your whole life. Once you got there, what aspects of the real thing were most different from your dream?
Actually, during my training I was exposed to several professional companies, but none were ranked so I didn’t really develop with the ranking system as part of my consciousness. I did, certainly, dream of dancing lead roles. I’d say the experience of dancing lead roles certainly matched my expectation in many ways, but when you’re dreaming you don’t think about the stress related to such things. It can be quite high pressure sometimes. Of course, that’s part of what makes it thrilling.
What was your takeaway from your recent collaborative choreographic effort, Stravinsky Project?
I was inspired most by working with the dancers and watching them work with the other choreographers. Dancers are the fuel that feeds choreographers most, I think.
There’s an emerging audience awareness (and appreciation) of ballet as a physically demanding sport. What was your worst “sports injury,” and your recovery process?
While I’m delighted by this new appreciation of the physical demands of ballet, I don’t like talking about the injury thing too much because, unlike sports, the point of going to the ballet is escaping to a visceral, transcendent place. It’s hard to do that if you’re imagining the dancers hurting or struggling with injuries. I have, though, had a ankle surgery and did spend about a year sleeping in a cast every night.
What’s next for you after OBT—in the immediate future as well as further along? Vacation? Teaching? More dance performances?
I’m delighted to continue my work for OBT as Artistic Coordinator. I’ve been doing this part time for the past few years and will transition to full time as I phase out the dancing part of my work. I love the work this entails (setting and rehearsing ballets, assisting Christopher, working with the administrative staff on tours and various projects). I am going to go on a Southern/Eastern Oregon hot springs trip that I’m very excited about.
tEEth’s award-winning piece explores the glories and ravages of a long-term relationship. It returns from an acclaimed touring run for a one-night-only performance on Saturday, April 16.
Posted by: Aaron Scott and Anne Adams on Apr 14, 2011 at 02:00AM0 Comments
tEEth’s Keely McIntyre and Noel Plemmons reinvent the reacharound.
SinceHome Madepremiered in Portland last November, the piece has toured several cities, scored a big win from Seattle’s On The Boards, and been added to summer 2011 festival bills in Prague, Texas, and Salt Lake City. But in case you missed it before it was “big,” White Bird will sponsor a one-night-only encore performance in Portland this Saturday night.
An image emerges from a blur: two giant symmetrical ultra-close-ups, a man and a woman. Two elbows, two chins. Four nostrils, and we’re almost looking up them. The pair starts to slowly caress each other’s faces, and the camera pans around under the giant stretchy white sheet on the stage, projecting a massive magnification of whatever it sees onto a screen. Hair. Knees. Random expanses of bare flesh moving in dynamic formations. Gosh. Is it hot in here?
This is Home Made —homemade intimacy, that later morphs into torpor, anger, alienation, passion…and back. The two dancers, variously clothed and nude, literally go through the motions of long-term monogamy. Sometimes they’re in sync. Sometimes they’re on autopilot. Sometimes one or both act out in a way that defies interpretation altogether—the kind of inarticulate “WTF” moment that only people who see each other often, and know each other well, ever expose. Because the dancers are virtually the same size, they easily maintain eye contact and show not only chemistry, but symmetry. Whether this is intentional, or a happy accident, it gives a sense of equality and power-balance that is rare in hetero pairings.
Though its topic is classic, this piece feels novel, strange, and sexy. Meanwhile, the music is nothing short of transcendent. Two singers, Luke Matter and Cali Ricks, provide ambient live vocals over a somber, watery piano. The audience could easily get its money’s worth from the music alone—but its marriage to movement promotes an even deeper hypnosis. Repetition, variation and symmetry ever-so-slightly disorient one’s perception of space and time, in the same way that a real makeout session would.
Fair warning, tEEth has one hell of an oral fixation. During the course of this piece, almost everything that can be stuck in the mouth, is—not just obvious parts like fingers, but more awkward fits, like chins, elbows, and whole microphones. Tongues are waggled, mouths are widely gaped, Foley-style sound effects are issued from the orifice. These tricks threaten to snap the viewer out of a moment. Maybe they say something profound, but a few just seem to scream, “Mouth!”
But tEEth’s creative masticating did not seem to fase local avant-art maven Paloma Soledad, who called the work “A must-see; beautiful, crazy, wonderful,” adding, “Thank God for people who do performance art dance! You make the world a better place.” Culturephile agrees. If not the whole world, at the very least, the week.
A sneak peek at a hiphop-infused modern dance piece from Seoul.
Posted by: Anne Adams on Mar 30, 2011 at 03:00PM0 Comments
The Laboratory Dance Project, a Korean troupe that makes its west-coast debut courtesy of White Bird tomorrow, is made of potent stuff. Need proof? Check out these videos of their critically-praised work No Comment.
The piece virtually bleeds with exertion, stress, and power dynamics in a fast-paced, competitive world. Note the dancers’ dress, which seems equal parts “business” and “street”—two environments where the individual must simultaneously cooperate, and perform. The unified chanting that nearly drowns out moans, seems to enforce order amid insuppressible humanity.
Meanwhile, in the movement, precise unison and pop-and-lock moves (perhaps symbolizing the well-oiled machine) are broken by the occasional fall (failure) of an individual, or an individual stepping up to dance more intensely, or to direct the show (performance/leadership). Dancers repeatedly clutch at their hearts, as if to take their own frenzied pulse, while crossing their arms across their bodies as if to literally “pull themselves together.” The visceral meets the mechanical, in a dance so taut with tension that each beat feels like an explosion.
Northwest Dance Project set to present two new pieces.
Posted by: Anne Adams on Mar 17, 2011 at 06:00AM1 Comments
Northwest Dance Project is probably best known for intimate, innovative performances and a steady stream of new work. Looks like their show this weekend, which bears the ambitiously no-nonsense title Contemporary Ballet at its Best, will stay in mode, offering two new world premiers. One is a quintet choreographed by NWDP founder/director Sarah Slipper; the other, a piece exclusively designed for the company by revered French choreographer Patrick Delcroix. A sneak peek at a pas de deux reveals amazing fluidity of motion, and some unique holds:
For the month of March, Disjecta Gallery (8371 N Interstate) hosts In-Site, an installation by Karl Burkheimer combined with a series of dance performances staged on the installation. The next two Saturdays of In-Site feature Kathleen Keogh and Linda Austin. Last Saturday, Culturephile saw Tahni Holt and company (see slideshow). In case you missed it, here are a few lingering impressions:
REVIEW
To begin, there is one dancer*, making swanlike arm movements and brushing a bare foot along the floor. Her hair hangs forward, and ambient sounds haunt the PA, like rushing wind trapped in a can. It’s 1pm. Sharp. A crowd of fifty-some onlookers has sifted around the edges of an imposing slanted wooden platform, anticipating an improvised dance performance led by local choreographer Tahni Holt* and musician Thomas Thorson (Culture Machine). It’s an impressive turnout , especially considering its post-brunch timeslot and Disjecta’s far-out location. This is going to be something.
As Thomas Thorson holds down the fort, running sound and playing keyboard from a hole in center stage, five dancers emerge:
• A long-limbed, graceful blonde man in a red flannel shirt (Robert Tyree)
• A tall, slender woman with a balletic bun (Sally Garrido-Spencer)
• A shorter man with a seemingly subdued demeanor (Richard Decker)
• Two medium-height, medium-build women with medium-length brown hair (Noelle Stiles and Tahni Holt*)
All wear jeans, creating a look that is literally “pedestrian,” puzzlingly at odds with the performance-art-in-a-gallery context. As each denim-clad dancer begins to explore the space, we see sweeping gestures and varied postures. Slow rotations. Sudden thrashes. Creative ambulation. Walking, rolling, crawling. Many movements seem detached, incubated, almost fetal. The soundscape evokes the roar of a tunnel, a vacuum. And the faces of the dancers remain…placid? determined? blank. Music is sans melody; movement is, for the most part, sans pattern or narrative. There is nothing to attach to beyond a feeling of “happening.”
As a viewer who yearns for narrative, I start to seek it. I notice one dancer placing a hand on another’s back. This seems to inspire a natural reaction where the pair end up rocking back and forth together, as though the wavelike sounds were actual waves—or, more metaphorically, throes. Their movements speed up, peak, and then subside. This event happens more than once, with different pairs of dancers, and I can’t help but process these instances as erotic pantomimes. I’m relieved to see a couple of the dancers’ stoic masks crack to reveal a faint flicker of passion.
Hang on, what’s that? And has that been there this whole time?
What I thought was a blank stage, actually contains one object: a large red block, mounted on a wooden base. Think small sawhorse, hurdle, gymnastic balance beam—though it’s none of those things. When I see it, I think “stumbling block,” and my hunger for narrative practically growls. But as I watch dancers interact with the red prop, sitting on it, resting against it, looking at it…I realize it’s not going to end up meaning anything particular. It’s just one more object to explore.
Now there are Twister poses. There are electro-shock spasms. In a particularly inspired moment, three dancers brace themselves between the stage and the wall to make some acrobatic formations (see slides). In another memorable flourish of duénde, Holt kicks into a stomping rhythm, throwing all her weight on her forward foot, then rocking back on her other foot, her hair dramatically thrashing. This movement, proven hypnotic by countless indigenous dances, could go on forever. But Holt’s version is a brief dalliance as the music reaches a thundering crescendo, then wisps away into silence. Cameras stop clicking, notebooks are folded and bagged. I look at the clock: 1:41. It’s over. Right? Wrong.
The music resumes, this time sounding like a twinkly twilit bat cave with dripping stalactites. Dancers momentarily do windsprints. For 19 more minutes, there are more happenings, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s already over. Now, I realize there was a predetermined schedule, and an hour is tidy in a way that 40-odd minutes is not. But while the 19 extra minutes didn’t minimize the experience of the previous 41, they also didn’t enhance it. If the group had been instructed to stop when the piece felt “done,” they might have walked off at the same time that the crowd tuned out, rather than cuing off their music guy, who must have been instructed to fill the time. By the time we hit 2pm, the dancers had (perhaps instinctively) crawled into the center-stage sound booth and taken the headphones from Thorson, almost as if to say, “Make it stop!” To be fair, I hadn’t realized how much I was “into” this piece, until I spent 19 minutes “out of it.” And if that’s part of the Holt & Co. strategy—well played. But if not, a note for next time: when you improvise a piece, maybe improvise when it ends.
While my wish for narrative elements fell on blank faces, sensory impressions remain.Moments of color and gesture, whips of hair, points of toes, wisps of sonic texture. This was a thing that happened. This Saturday and next, there will be more happenings, and you might decide to catch them.
TAHNIHOLTRESPONDS
Thank you for coming. It was a pleasure getting to move in and around the environment that Karl created with his installation. As part of his desires there was nothing precious about his work, it is to be walked on and explored by gallery goers. So although it is in a gallery setting he embeds In-Site with a lingering sense of construction. If you traverse the installation you feel the rough edges and the textured plywood. Underneath there is more refinement, visual patterning and curved edges. We costumed to match our feelings about the installation. It felt funny to wear anything but something that we couldn’t get dirty or would rip. Yet, like the installation, we did not stay in pedestrian movements (although we alluded to them certainly). We danced our training and moved with specific intentions that, at times, I would like to think highlighted the immediacy of now and our odd connections to each other, the installation, the space, the sound, the audience, etc.
As you stated in your review you are a “viewer who yearns for narrative”. These are your desires and wants, maybe needs(?), for a performance. The context that you are viewing the work from when your “hunger for narrative practically growls,” is at odds with the context in which we are working. And thus there is a disconnect. I think this disconnect is rich with potential for a greater understanding. Clearly there are many debates about what should and shouldn’t be in a review of dance. I fear this debate, yet I would like to offer that without discussing this disconnect you are doing your readers and our performance a disservice.
SUMMARYTHOUGHTS
I’m sorry if you think this review does a disservice. I actually enjoyed the piece, and the confession that I “yearn for narrative,” isn’t intended to invalidate other kinds of work. That said, I don’t see the desire for narrative as irrelevant to a dance discussion, because many dance performances do contain narrative elements. I also want to clarify that I’ve described the movement in lay terms rather than dance terms not to dismiss your professional training, but to paint a picture for readers, regardless of their level of dance knowledge.
The craft of writing, like the craft of dance, can be endlessly refined. Placement of paragraph breaks, word choices, and instances of repetition all contribute to the overall impression that is left. I have done a fresh edit of the piece since the above response, and while I haven’t removed my few criticisms, I’ve put them in a more representative context. Something that sticks with me is the phrase “nothing to attach to.” Is that seen as a negative statement? And if so, is that part of a larger Western ideology? Readers, what do you look for in a performance—dance or otherwise? And if there’s nothing to attach to, are you disappointed, or do you feel more enlightened for it? Please feel free to comment.
The In Site series is ongoing, with Kathleen Keogh on March 12 and Linda Austin on March 19. All performances start at 1pm. For more about Portland arts events, visit PoMo’s Arts & Entertainment Calendar, stream content with an RSS feed, or sign up for our weekly On The Town Newsletter!
Last week, in anticipation of OBT’s Stravinsky Project , we geeked out on some online videos of other ballet companies performing Firebird and Rite of Spring. But now, we can share some actual images from OBT’s latest, including the mysterious new choreographic collaboration. Click on the slide show to the left, to see some splendid costumes and transcendent stills. And if you haven’t yet, make plans to catch the fleeting Firebird and friends next weekend.
Posted by: Anne Adams on Feb 10, 2011 at 05:00AM0 Comments
On Saint Valentine’s Eve, Tiare Tashnik and her trusty troupe of undulating femme fatales will offer their monthly showcase of raqs sharqi at the Fez, with a little extra spice in honor of Valentine’s Day. A mainstay of the belly-dance and vaudeville communities, Salon L’Orient (pronounced “Lor-AHN”) is known for coordinating particularly flexible and fastidious routines.
Halloween happenings: from Deadbolt to dancing with blood
Posted by: Geoff Earl on Oct 26, 2010 at 11:00AM2 Comments
BloodyVox by BodyVox. A true danse macabre.
You thought your significant other wanted to stay home and watch monster movies this weekend. Wrong! She really wants to stuff herself into the slutty witch costume that didn’t get used last year (you didn’t plan anything then, either). Quick, slap some “zombie makeup” on your grill and shuffle out into the night. We’ve selected a few destinations that offer an intriguing combination of scary, sexy, funny and, of course, blood-spattered.
Deadbolt at Dante’s Take lots of eerie reverb, a foreboding baritone, greasy pompadours, and songs about voodoo-this and voodoo-that, and you’ve got a night with “the scariest band on Earth.” That’s exactly what garage-rockers Deadbolt claim to be (though perhaps “sinister” is a more accurate descriptive). The sexy quotient of this All Hallow’s wingding is provided by Sinferno Cabaret, Dante’s own fire-dancin’, go-go burlesque ensemble. Sunday, 8pm. $12-13.
Toxic Zombie at Hawthorne Theater The kids prefer their Fright Night tuneage a bit less “nuanced.” Horror-glam-punks Toxic Zombie host an all-ages Halloween Monster Party at the Hawthorne Theater. As far as all-ages costume parties go, this is a big one. Best costumes can win a guitar (sweet!) and other prizes. Hosted by ex-White Zombie drummer and current KUFO DJ Ivan de Prume, the bill includes Stonecreep, Ditch Digger and Church of Hate. Friday, 8pm. $10.
Blood Shack Tired of spooky sports arenas and haunted mega-malls? A newcomer to the PDX Halloween scene, the Blood Shack is inhabited in the only way a structure in short Southeast could be—by haunted hipsters. Besides the “nonstop orgy of gore” and lots of “ghastly sights,” the Blood Shack offers creepy pinball, a beer garden, and the nightly wailing of local trash-rockers from beyond the garage. The Blood Shack is all ages and open seven nights a week. 55 SE Ankeny St. Mon-Wed 8pm-1am; Thurs 8pm-midnight; Fri-Sun 8pm-1am.
Psycho with the Oregon Symphony Get your fright night started early with Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 horror uber-classic, Psycho (on the big screen in the Schnitz, no less), while the Oregon Symphony performs Bernard Hermann’s iconic, shrieking, nightmare-inducing score. Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 4pm. $14-58.
Of course, you could always stay home and watch TV.
Dia de los Muertos For a more dignified and sincere version of those who occasionally rise from the grave, Teatro Milagro (or the Miracle Theater, en engles) hosts its annual Dia de los Muertos celebration with the live production of Viva Don Juan. The bi-lingual production explores the Day of the Dead holiday by returning the chronically amorous, yet long-deceased Don Juan to the world of the living. Miracle Theater/Teatro Milagro. Thu 7:30 PM; Fri-Sat 8 PM; Sun 2 PM.
Bloody Vox If it takes a little corn syrup to get you in the door of a “cultured” Halloween event, what’s the big deal? During the Halloween season, BodyVox dance ensemble performs BloodyVox, a blood-spattered dance performance that includes zombies, vampires, and other outré creatures. And there’s a gala fundraiser called the BloodyVox Ball! Better iron your cape, Count. BodyVox Dance Theater. Thu-Fri 7:30pm; Sat 2pm and 7:30pm. $20.
Scary Movie Horror Sci-Fi Improv The Brody Theater’s Halloween show, Scary Movie, returns for its lucky 13th installment. The quick-thinking crew creates completely improvised and original horror and sci-fi “movies”; the double features are tributes to the golden age of horror and sci-fi movies of the 1930s-50s. Brody Theater. Sat-Sun 8pm and 10 pm; Halloween, 7pm. $7-10.
The Walking Dead Oh great. Now she doesn’t want to go out at all. No problem, just stay home, hand out candy to the little monsters, and then turn on the premiere of AMC network’s new “epic” post-apocalyptic zombie series, The Walking Dead, based on the awesome Robert Kirkman comic book. 10pm, Halloween, American Movie Classics, Channel 71.
Beneath the song and dance pyrotechnics, it feels like home.
Posted by: Alexis Rehrmann on Oct 20, 2010 at 02:00PM0 Comments
Photo:
Chelsea Lauren 2010
At the salon, under the ubiquitous yellow awning that says only “Unisex Salon”, with actors Lexi Lawson, Isabel Santiago, Arielle Jacobs, and Genny Lis Padilla
In the Heights is the latest Broadway tour to take roost at the Keller Auditorium, where it plays through Sunday.
I was very lucky to catch last night’s boisterous performance with a bona fide teenager in tow.
And she LOVED it. “That was tight,” my teenage compatriot pronounced authoritatively as we shuffled out of the red-carpeted aisles after 2 hours and 30 minutes of boisterous, latin-infused song and dance. “Tight!” She uttered spontaneously several times during the show, responding to a sensational dance move, or a big ol’ Broadway belt of an 11th hour number.
I’m inclined to feel kindly towards a play that can put kids in the seats. So…sold!
In the Heights is a new musical set over Fourth of July in Washington Heights, a scrappy, latino neighhorhood in north Manhattan. Composer and creator Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical won four Tony Awards including Best Musical. In the Heights sizzles in hot pants, merengue moves, young love’s yearning and burning, and reggaeton beats, all set during the blackout heat of a summer in the city.
Go For
Andy Blankenbuehler’s choreography goes down like candy and flows like silk whether the dance calls for hip-hop street moves, classical modern phrases, or a bouquet of latin steps like salsa, and merengue. There is ample opportunity to spotlight individual dancers—Graffiti Pete (Jose-Luis Lopez) is a standout—as well as to get sucked into the vivid ensemble numbers.
Big, fun Grammy-winning music. I particularly liked the depth and breadth of showstoppers written for the women of Washington Heights. Young Nina (Arielle Jacobs), is home from college and struggling, and her voice runs through octaves with ease and clarity. Her mother, Camila (Natalie Toro) has a fantastic family call to action in “Enough”, and Abuela Claudia (Elise Santora) leads “Paciencia y Fe” in the costume of a grandmother, but with the full-throttle sound of a woman in her prime.
There is a streak of realism here under the glaze of musical optimism. In the Heights is a hopeful story about finding your home, and the onstage gains are life-sized. No one gets rich, no one gets whisked away to paradise on the wings of love, the characters’ triumphs are modest. At its core the musical is a slice of corner life polished up for the stage (With nods, hello theater nerds, to Elmer Rice’s 1929 “Street Scene”. Set entirely on an the stoop of a New York City brownstone. it won the Pulitzer, and changed the game ).
Two Caveats
The Keller’s acoustics make it hard to understand all of the lyrics. In a musical that relies on the (charming, smooth, totally engaging performance of) Usnavi, the rapping/singing main character (Joseph Morales), it’s frustrating to lose those story details.
I’ve got to wonder if the actors were also a little frustrated, singing their hearts out, wondering why the Portland audience was missing half the jokes. That wide mouth stage really swallows the vocal sound, and makes the communication more general than the artists intended.
It’s Broadway. It does the expected. Which, depending on how you look at it, is either good or bad. In the Heights delivers big talent in big doses (27 cast members in a group salsa number is ALWAYS a thrill), and the well-told story is never trite but neither is it wholly surprising. It feels like home, I suppose, and underneath the song and dance pyrotechnics, this is exactly what its authors intended.
Today, Northwest Dance Project unveils NEWNOWWOW! Sarah Slipper discusses the new work, new troupe—and new tropes.
Posted by: Anne Adams on Sep 30, 2010 at 12:00PM0 Comments
Culturephile note: Whilst gathering data for our Fall Arts Preview Anne Adams found that she had tons of material leftover from her interviews. Frankly, this stuff was too good to waste, so we decided to give our local arts spokesfolk a chance to tell us more about themselves in a series of Fall Arts extras called Speaks Volumes. Tonight, Sarah Slipper and NWDP will premier their latest piece, NEWNOWWOW!, at the newly-refurbished Lincoln Hall.
We’re observing a studio floor full of glistening, graceful people, sorted in informal clusters, figuring out what to do with themselves. Here, one backbends over another’s thigh. Over there, one demi-pliés, completes a movement, then retracts and redoes it. I’ve caught Sarah Slipper on a demanding dance day, workshopping with choreographers from her Pretty Creatives series and a large group of dancers she’s imported for the two-week intensive that is her Launch:4 project.
Rehearsal Sneak Peek: Loni Landon’s “If You Really Knew Me”
’There’s James Gregg up at the front," Slipper points out, “he’s with BJM dance, and he’ll be coming back to White Bird in the fall, but he’s really interested in choreography right now. He’s one of the winners of the Pretty Creatives. And Loni is gonna come in, who worked in Germany for four years, and went to Juliard—she’s American. Well, they’re both American, but they both have been dancing abroad. This Saturday, they’ll have an 18-hour workshop, and then they’ll present what they came up with in that time.” None of these arrangements, Slipper explains, are “business as usual” in the dance world:
Usually, there’s 200 people who’ve flown to New York, auditioning in a big room, and within 10 minutes, you’re asked to leave. They just tap you on the shoulder, and say you’re done. And that person I might have tapped on the shoulder because they didn’t have the perfect feet or the perfect height—might have been actually the one who could do my work the best. And you don’t see that until the end of the audition, where you’re doing material. So that doesn’t work for me, because you’ve somehow got to break through and see a dancer move.
Sometimes they don’t have the perfect body, or perfect fit, but they’re BRILLIANT. And you hear this all the time with artists. That’s what i’m interested in. These people [in front of us] are auditioning, but they’re so relaxed right now! I get them in Portland, get ‘em relaxed, they love it, they trust each other ’cause they’re laughing with each other, and then you start to see their talent. You learn a lot about their work ethic. Can they take 10 hour days? And how do they interact with each other? So you can see how useful this is. You’re developing everybody, you get to see them in the real environment, you get to see how they interact. It’s fantastic.
Rehearsal Sneak Peek: Ihsan Rustem’s “State of Matter”
The first week of the Launch Project, this group of dancers who’s auditioned for us works with all kinds of artistic directors, and they get a feel for their style, or what they’re looking for, or their material—and again, we work with a variety of directors from all over North America and beyond. Then in the second week of the project, the dancers work with the two winners of the Pretty Creatives competition. And those two winners work with them all week, and then we do a public showing. It’s so cool. It’s unbelievalbe. And from there, the idea is I get to see the dancers move in all different kinds of work, and I get to see the two choreographers and how they interact, and whether it’s a good fit for us. It introduces me to new voices. Last year’s choreographer competition winner was Maurice Cause, who’s already created two works for the company, and Lauren Edson, who’s done a short take and another work in the Summer Splendor show we just did.
Most of the group are from Canada and the US, and one of them is from Taiwan and one is from Korea. When I audition them, they have to show a little bit of technique, but then I audition them also moving in two pieces of work, so that I can see other styles. Not just the classical ballet. I get a feel of how else they can move. And that’s what i’m interested in: what else they can show. if they have a background in hiphop, or African, or tap, or jazz, it helps to see them move differently, or improv. It’s a great way to see a dancer. It’s pretty rare in auditions right now, but i can tell you a lot of other companies are starting to emulate us, because they can see the use in it.
Typically we work 24/7; it’s an extraordinary amount of work. I’m the kind of person who’s a doer. To run this organization, if I expect anybody to work for me, I want to filter down a work ethic. I would typically come here around 8:30 in the morning, teach a class, open up emails. I teach the company six days a week, and I’m almost always in the studio creating new work or watching the others create. There’s a world-wide connection, so there’s a lot of office work, a lot of database work. I basically run in and out of the studio all day long. I usually get out of here around 9 o’clock at night. In this economy, I’m very hands-on in the process of everything. It’s not necessarily to control, it’s just—there’s a huge investment in creation. I’m interested in lighting, I’m interested in working with collaborators who have lighting designers…if there’s not something, there’s something. Auditions, I travel, I have to watch a lot of video….I’m weeble-wobbling to get the best out of everyone.
I would say we’re contemporary ballet with an incredible range. They take a ballet class every day, but then it just gets pushed out there. You have someone coming in from Portugal, Montreal, Tucson—their backgrounds are going to be varied; they’re going to leave their mark. I’m really interested in that—the variety. I don’t want a company that’s Sarah Slipper; I really don’t. I love what I try to do, and I try to risk-take. I feel like NWDP is a risk-taking company. We’ll allow someone with a completely different voice to come in and share it. I’m really interested in a variety of voices, and to provide a platform for that. and to see what that does to an artist in the profession is extraordinary. And it makes incredibly valuable artists that then will go out and share it.
We’ve never bought a work. It’s almost like we never know what we’re gonna get. There’ll be kind of a soft ballet aesthetic, or a sharp, fast-paced piece. We’ve produced 85 works in seven years. Part of my role is to facilitate and allow that creative process, just to let the artist create. We don’t ever place expectations or restrictions on our artists.
No frills? Well—few frills. Typically it’s more about the dance. I think, yes. Because we should be able to do a piece not just in a giant theater with a helicopter flying in, we should also be able to do it on the street. And I’m interested in all different areas that you produce dance, as well, to catch people. So then it becomes also about a communication with your audience. It’s not just even about movement; we’re communicating with audience, whether it’s in a shop window, or on a proscenium stage with all the bells and whistles. I like to challenge people, like, "how can you change the space so you don’t need miles and miles of sets? And it’s amazing what you see these artists do.
I’m interested in work that’s scalable. It’s not Sleeping Beauty, it’s not typically going to offer tons of bells and whistles. But if somebody wanted, say, 52 oranges on the stage—we’ll do it. It’s just, the movie helicopter, the airlifted sets—is Broadway. But I am interested in the space where dance is presented. How does your environment challenge the work? How does it allow the audience to come into the work? If we said to a choreographer, “You’re coming in and you’re doing it in this room,” it may be surprising that they may have the audience stay outside, they may have you all in here and the dancers are outside—and that adds interest, and I love that. But we still allow them to come and create within that creative dynamic, whatever that canvas is.
We’ve had two seasons at PCPA at the Newmark, and at the new Lincoln Hall, we’re doing our New Now Wow! show—four amazing choreographers. It’s gonna be a show to watch. Those are gonna be the new stars of the WORLD. Not just here. Two choreographers are from Europe, and two are from the US. It’s gonna be an awesome show! We’re varying between the two theaters. We’ll do shows here in the studio, too, ‘cause there’s something about seeing dance right in front of you. Love it. And we’ve got the space, why not? We’ll get more creations out, so it’s awesome. We just tried hosting two weeks here, and those shows sold out! I mean, it’s awesome. This means the community’s coming in.
We did it on the street; we performed on the street out there. We’ve set up outdoor stages, too. We danced in Macy’s department store. We went into Macy’s and we danced in the bedding department, the escalators—people loved it. They loved it. We did it in the makeup department, you know, dancers popping their heads through the handles of the Handbags—awesome.
So we’re going to do these daring performances, but you’re also going to see fearless technique. For example, one of our company dancers, Andrea Parsons just received the Princess Grace Award, and one of her performances that really stood out, was a piece she did for us called Not I. She gets up onstage and she’s just making little movements, and then, out of nowhere, a gallon of water drops on her, and she dances for fourteen minutes, to spoken word, in the puddle. The floor is soaking, she’s soaked, and there’s a video camera, like an eye, watching every move she makes. And it zooms in right on her face, and we have three televisions at the front of the stage and it just looks like it’s her neck up, and it’s set to this incredible, brilliant, absurdist stream-of-consciousness monologue, done by Juliet Stephenson, just nonstop about this woman reflecting on her life.
To sustain a stage for fourteen minutes with no one else on it, and a camera, like this lone figure that just shoots her, that’s like the auditor. It’s a phenomenal task. You dont’ know if that’s gonna work. The audience might just go, “Oh, it’s whatever.” But I think it stunned the audience. First of all, they had no idea that this little waif was going to get doused. It shocked them. And then the stream of brutal nonstop verbiage, and just watching this woman struggle. I didn’t know what it was gonna do. Scott [NWDP Executive Director] kept hearing the rehearsals and said, “Oh, god. Halfway through there’s this wrenching scream that happens, and then it happens AGAIN. I can hear the audience just walking out.” I said, “If they do, they do—but we’ve gotta try it.”So we tried it here in Portland, and I’ve had nonstop feedback about this solo. The audience was stunned, in tears, so moved—I heard it after, she got this amazing review, she held the stage, and that was a risk. Never had done that myself either. Never done it.
In this country, especially in this profession, there’s a need for new work. There’s very little out there right now. Even now, the economy’s ruling it all. I mean, you’re just fighting…to take risks means you might not have anybody in your audience. And this is a period where people need ticket sales, presenters need guarantees, so they want the hits. OBT did nothing new this year because of the economy. They didn’t have the money. So, they’re doing classic stuff this season, because that already has a proven audience. But I’m not all about the tried-and-true, and that either takes craziness, or confidence. And I think perhaps there’s a crazy risk-taking side of me, and I also have courage—it takes courage.
The long-term goal is to make new work that’s more exciting to younger people. There are people who don’t wanna go see classic works like Sleeping Beauty again and again. If I see another ballerina run up to the boy, then run away—like, no. Now what happens is, girl tackles boy. That’s the way it works now. This new work, especially by younger choreographers, is very immediate, very now. So hopefully younger people can relate to it, and that brings in a whole new generation. Because the strictly classical audience is dying out; we’re gonna run out of those people, and we need to replenish the dance audience.
I want you to come see our work. How’m I going to get you to the work? Maybe you can’t afford the ticket price of $30, so how else am I gonna get you to see the work? Well, maybe I can make it cheaper here, or maybe you’re gonna see the piece on the street, or in Macy’s. Or maybe you could do a class; our classes are for anyone. You could come and do a jazz class, Bhangra bollywood, core balance, or hiphop class. We have a huge roster of teachers here. 10, maybe? And some of our company members teach. We employ quite a few people here. And maybe one day, in 20 years, you’re still gonna want to come back.
There is no one in this country that’s doing this kind of work. James Gregg (from a Canadian company, Ballet Jazz in Montreal) just asked me, “What are you guys doing—three or four new works a year?” I said, “Since last year, since we walked into this new home [on N Mississippi Avenue], we’ve done 21 works, long and short.” That’s phenomenal. That is crazy. If you’d said to me last year, “You’re gonna do 21 new works,” I’d say, "no way. No, no one’s doing that." We do all these small projects as well. But even our big babies. I think you can do a lot with a little. In fact, you inspire creativity that way sometimes, when you don’t have everything to choose from. Some of the artist’s best work happens in a dingy studio with not much there, and they use everything to bring it out. I see that happen to myself, and I see that happen in incredible work that’s created anywhere, not just in dance. Sometimes where there’s the will, and there’s the heart, you’ve got to try to find a way to do it.
One of the first works that I created for this organization was in the Dungeon Studios of Jefferson, and it had an incredible journey. It started with nothing fancy, dank, dark, studios, hot, stuffy, windowless, you’re in there, you’re sweating buckets. It was shown here, and then it went to work with another major ballet company, and then it actually was nominated for the Benoit de la Dance, and was performed in Moscow at the Bolshoy. Would I ever have thought this would appear on the Bolshoy stage, going 32 encores? Never. And yet when I think back to the modest little beginnnings, it’s a great story, and it was a great journey for this piece, and it lives here; everybody’s trying to get it, other companies try to buy it, but it’s funny. I think it all comes back to what I talk about, how i’m interested in the essence of what you’re creating about, because then you have these life stories, and that’s the same with any artist.
And then the other secret is, you just ask. You just ask these brilliant people if they wanna come. When James Canfield comes to town, he teaches here. And many others. It’s not money; it’s not the money. When choreographers and artists come in, we offer them complete artistic freedom and we give them some of the best dancers out there. Our dancers have a good personality with the audiences, they do outreach, work with people, young people, older people. They have a talent to help teach, and have a graciousness with people. They put up with cold theaters, and—you know, they just say, “Okay, let’s get it done.” They’re not just clocking in and clocking out. That’s New York City Ballet; that’s a bank. That’s not us. There’s nothing that draws an artist like the freedom to do what they want with a brilliant canvas.
“Lefta foota! Lighta foota! " barked Yamashita, as Dickinson furiously kept pace with his dance instructions, dipping and leaping and falling in a complex choreography.
Every now and then, Yamashita would go slower. “I drew a circle with my pen,” he said, speaking of frustration in the writing process. At another point, he described a haunting memory he had, of seeing a cyclist killed in a traffic accident. He also described his constant quest for individual expression and technical excellence in dance. And then he unleashed another blast of commands.
This piece seemed to be working on at least a couple levels: one, there was the aforementioned artist’s struggle. Two, there was the dancer’s struggle, to keep pace and fulfill orders. The third struggle— whether an intentional element of the piece, or just a function of circumstance—was communication and translation. Though Yamashita was speaking English, his strong Japanese accent and rapid pacing challenged the audience to concentrate harder, to strain further into the classic gap between sender and receiver to actively grasp the message.
“Work for it!” the piece seemed to say. “Meet us at least halfway!”
Yukio Suzuki
“Why make us stand in the rain?” was the unanimous unasked question, as we trekked several blocks from PNCA and huddled under too few umbrellas in the bricked, littered enclave behind Bridgeport Brewery. Yukio Suzuki lay sprawled across a second-story bannister, light hitting his soaking white limbs and shirt, as Wayne Horvitz’s crystalline, haunting soundscape pierced the sheeting downpour.
He was doing something. He was blowing up a white balloon. The shadow of man, bannister, and ever-enlarging balloon fell on the far brick wall. The balloon consumed the head, and we beheld, briefly, a balloon-headed man. The balloon was let go and drifted gracefully to the ground, like a profound thought that briefly expanded and quickly passed.
(Oh, the balloon as poetic objet. Romantic, yet totally unsentimental, due to its simplicity of shape. And with so many symbolic implications! Spherical = universal or whole. Floating upward = transcendence, optimism—or unattainability. Expanding = growth, hope. Popping = fragility, temporariness. The Red Balloon, 99 Luftballons, The Boy In The Bubble.)
Suzuki slung himself over the bannister and began to move along the catwalk toward a wooden staircase. Many of his motions dramatically over-swung, and others jerkily corrected. His overall bearing began to feel very familiar: If he wasn’t depicting a drunken reverie, he could have fooled me.
As he half-fell down the steps, Suzuki seemed the most poetic kind of drunk, interspersing his stumbles with flights of grandiosity. At one point, legs sprawled below him, he outstretched his arms and bobbed his head, stiffly pantomiming a symphony conductor. All the while, the rain sparkled and drenched, under a gradually darkening sky, which, as you can imagine, was wildly cinematic, and probably answered the question “why…?”
Suzuki landed at the foot of the stairs, danced haltingly in the courtyard, and then sprang up a ladder on the adjacent wall. He was on the roof. On the corner of the roof, now shirtless and sinewy, and majestically oblivious, he let out a howl of volatile triumph, and violently heaved down the chimney.
We’ve all born passive witness at times, to other people in the throes of physical or emotional intensity. We’ve held back their hair, or held back their fists, or talked them down from the rooftops and given them a towel to dry off with. This performance evoked those moments, but relieved us of the responsibility to mitigate, letting us simply thrill at the otherworldly spectacle of a human being exhausting himself in a bender of transcendence, danger and despair.
For more information on TBA events, visit PICA. A more comprehensive list of upcoming events can be found at our Arts & Entertainment Calendar.
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Arts and Culture Editor Aaron Scott has reported for Radiolab, This American Life, OPB, and others. He loves getting lost and finding his way out again.
Events Editor Anne Adams has spent 12 years in Portland and roughly 2 at Portland Monthly magazine. An avid arts appreciator who can zero in on a detail of gesture or craft, she’s also a major softie for music, humor, and philosophy.
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Culturephile chronicles the vibrant world of Portland arts & culture, along with its movers and makers.
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