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San Francisco: Cowell Theater |
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Sapphire Rain
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Smuin Ballets/SF opened its
seventh season with two hits and a near miss. Revivals of two of Michael Smuin’s
finest ballets, the stunning “Medea” and “Carmina Burana,” framed a
somewhat disappointing centerpiece, the world premiere of “Sapphire
Rain.”
Set on four couples, to the music of New Age harpist Andreas
Vollenweider, “Sapphire Rain” is little more than a divertissement. Lots of
stage smoke, thunder and bird calls usher in the dancers, costumed in spangles like so
many gorgeous birds of paradise. There is no program to this piece, no meaning but a
strong suggestion that the whole thing takes place in a rain forest (not the endangered
kind).
With the exception of a sexy tango for Celia Fushille-Burke and Hernan
Piquin -- company standouts in everything they do -- there was nothing new here. It all
seemed rather self-conscious and not quite worth the trouble it took to stage it.
Not so “Medea,” a stark, powerful retelling of the
ancient Greek myth in the language of dance. This is a wonderful work, with a twisting of
the tale that boils it down to its essence: betrayal, jealousy and revenge. In
Smuin’s version, Medea’s rival is not burned up in a poisoned robe but
strangled, with the help of the two sons. Neither does Medea cook the little boys into a
stew for their father to innocently consume. She merely follows them offstage with a
knife, then displays their bodies to compound Jason’s grief. Not exactly Euripedes
but it works.
Fushille-Burke was a regal Medea; Piquin a powerful Jason. Shannon
Hurlburt and Joral Schmalle made marvelous (if somewhat large) boys and Claudia Alfieri
was the vain, flirtatious, doomed princess. The steps were evocative of the period,
without parody, and the emotions, high as they were, expressed without hyperbole. An
unforgettable image was that of Jason mourning his dead princess-bride at one side of the
stage, as Medea bids a loving farewell to the sons she intends to murder at the other.
This was a perfect translation from drama to dance, wonderful theater either way.
Of note is the lighting design of Sara Linnie Slocum for this, and the
other ballets on the program. Who needs sets with a brilliant red or white backdrop of
light, the dancers whirling in innovative circles of spotlight? Slocum’s dramatic
lighting is an integral part of the dance language in these ballets. It was especially
effective in the second half of the program, the long, lyrical setting of Karl Orff’s
1937 secular cantata, “Carmina Burana.” Here, Slocum used patterned spots to
create interest on the floor. The colors and patterns changed with the mood of the dance.
As for “Carmina,” you either love it or hate it. It is
music that cries out to be danced. Smuin's is one of the best of many outstanding
interpretations. The lovely blonde Allison Jay dominated the opening section as
Fortune’s fool, Piquin was wonderful as the suffering Roasted Swan and the
choreography for the men was exceptionally strong in the tavern section. Then it was
Fushille-Burke again in a lovely celebration of Spring, innocence and love. The whole
thing comes full circle with a reprise of “O Fortuna” at the end; Jay lifted
high as the entire ensemble comes together in tableau.
Of course, it's necessary to know
the music to put all this context into it. Smuin’s is a totally abstract setting,
with only hints of conflict, suffering, flirtation or romance. Nevertheless, so arresting
are his dance images that the lengthy work seems to fly by. The only complaint that it is
over too soon.
- Suzanne Weiss
