Dance class

Revelations is still riveting, but . . .

The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater came to town last weekend for its annual Celebrity Series visit, and, as always, closed its program with its signature piece (and Ailey's 1960 breakthrough), Revelations (above).

What was strange about the performance, however, was that Revelations - some fifty years old - was the most exciting dance of the evening. Which only underlined a troubling sense of stasis, and self-absorption in its own tradition, that's becoming apparent in the troupe. Make that an air-brushed tradition, btw; I've already posted about how the company elides or disguises its founder's sexuality (I note that this year, perhaps as a result of my writing, the company's gay dancers were put forward for interviews with local gay sites, although the effort came off as apologetic niche marketing rather than open acceptance of the truth about Ailey).

Of course it's always wonderful to see these dancers, who remain stunning in their virtuosity - but in a way their very ability only made the weak choreography last Thursday more frustrating; we wanted to see all this talent put to genuine artistic use. Instead, what we got were well-intentioned, but artistically flat, history lessons. The concert opened with "Uptown," a tribute to the Harlem Renaissance by talented company dancer Matthew Rushing, which meandered through tributes to Paul Robeson, Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, and other well-known figures of that famous period of ferment. I'd welcome a genuine dance about the struggles of any of these figures, of course - but Rushing leaned heavily on the spoken word, and lecture-like projected images, rather than the dance-drama of Revelations; indeed, sometimes it seemed like there was more text than music. And while each sequence was, yes, uplifting in a warmly generic way, in dance terms they were all a bit dull (the one exception was a hot jitterbug with a series of dazzling lifts and jumps).

Next came another tribute, to Judith Jamison, the company's current artistic director, titled "Dancing Spirit" (the title of her autobiography), choreographed by Ronald K. Brown. The piece offered what seemed like a loose evocation of the tutelage of a Jamison figure (the glorious Renee Robinson) by an Ailey figure (Matthew Rushing again) - a conceit which might have been quite intriguing if it had had any specificity. But as the whole thing was clearly intended as tribute, not exploration, Brown settled for more uplifting symbology rather than actual character, and he structured the piece pretty simplistically. Still, Brown has a talent for rhythmic jazz-African fusion, and the graceful footwork and sinuous beats, if not the actual design, of the piece were often dazzling. It also closed with a lovely lighting effect (a full moon wreathed with stars).

Finally came Revelations, in a version which struck me as more powerful and committed than has appeared in many a year - perhaps because the dancers finally had a chance to ditch the history lessons and cut loose with some really rich choreography. Of course the Alvin Ailey troupe does have a rich history, and this country's own history of racism and oppression should never be forgotten. Still, it's possible to become addicted to looking backward rather than forward, and it seems every year is an anniversary year for this troupe - 2010 marks the 20th anniversary of Judith Jamison's directorship, as well as the 50th birthday of Revelations. And commemorating history isn't quite the same thing as making it come alive (much less making it). That's the great feat that Revelations pulls off - and why it always feels like a revelation. But has the troupe lost touch with what Ailey revealed in that great dance and others? Sometimes, on Thursday night, it felt that way.

Alvin Ailey at 50

The men of Alvin Ailey.

Tuesday brought the great Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater troupe to town for a week-long celebration of its 50th anniversary, hosted by Celebrity Series. The annual Ailey visit is always a cause for celebration, for it brings us back into contact with a dazzling set of dancers. And this time the troupe brought with it a short film about its founder, its current artistic director, Judith Jamison, and of course itself. It also premiered a new piece of choreography - "Go in Grace," developed in concert with the popular a capella group Sweet Honey in the Rock.

Still, the visit gave me almost as much cause for pause as it did for celebration. The Ailey dancers, of course, remain fabulous creatures, almost superhuman in their unbelievable energy and presence. But the dance statement they are now making is showing signs of - well, at best over-familiarity, and at worst a kind of folksy tunnel vision, in both artistic and political terms.

"Go in Grace," for instance, sounds so interesting on paper, but felt like little more than a well-intentioned experiment in brand synergy on stage. Ailey dancer (and new choreographer) Hope Boykin has devised a cliched story line that's all about a young girl's coming of age. Her brother gets mixed up with a gang, and her daddy passes away - and it turns out, as I learned from the program notes, that she's also deaf! (To be fair, conveying that in dance would be a challenge.) The sweet thing of course perseveres through her travails, always surrounded by warm, powerful women who are somehow completely powerless to do anything but sing out loud and proud, etc. The music, written as well as sung by Sweet Honey in the Rock, went down easy but was hardly memorable, while the dancing only got lively when that obstreperous, seductive gang was around, and the attempted integration of the singers and the dancers somehow didn't really come off.

Next up was the more engaging, if still superficial, "Suite Otis," a tribute (in hot pink, no less) to the late, great Otis Redding choreographed and costumed by George Falson. Again, the choreography was limited in its vocabulary, and leaned toward clowning, but was so energetic and fun that this hardly mattered. The troupe ended the evening with yet another rendition of their central choreographic text, Ailey's by-now-iconic "Revelations." And truth be told, this dance never really ages, and incredibly, the dancers - some of whom have been doing it over and over again for years - continue to perform it with a moving emotional commitment.

Still, "Revelations" isn't exactly a revelation anymore. And its political content is today undercut with painful irony. Alvin Ailey (as a young man, at left), was not only a great African-American artist, of course, but also a great gay artist, who died of complications from AIDS in 1989 (to the very end, he hid his diagnosis from his homophobic mother). Yet even in its commemorative film about him, the company seems unable to make any mention of his sexuality. Even after 50 years, Alvin Ailey is still in the closet as far as they're concerned. And how is it possible to fully commit ourselves to the human vision of "Revelations" if gay black men are somehow left out of its message? And what exactly is motivating this silence - which is all the stranger given that much Ailey choreography sexualizes the company's male dancers quite openly? (Indeed, "Suite Otis" opens with a young stud wagging his hot-pink-clad bottom at us.) Is the company afraid of losing fans, or losing face, or losing face because of its fans, who may harbor their own form of bigotry?

I don't know the answers to those questions, of course, but I do know that the central question of civil rights in this country today revolves around sexuality. It's time for the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater to accept that, and truly embrace the meaning of its founder's life and work.