Whether commanding a gentle storm of feathers onto the stage for his dancers to slide, float, and swim through, or pinning them to the scenery with velcro, Alejandro Cerrudo makes them listen, to each other’s bodies and to the silences between the onrush of dramatic music that frames the architectural precision of his choreography, on display as a one-man show in Hubbard Street Dance Chicago’s Summer Series this past weekend at the Harris Theater.
The effect on the audience is a curious inversion of sensory functions, as we listen, too, but with our eyes, and see with our ears. Such is the interplay of sound and motion in Cerrudo’s world, which juxtaposes silence and sound, motion and stillness, attack and flow. One moment the music of Philip Glass is rushing forward with unstoppable dramatic momentum while the dancers put on the breaks to find themselves in a slow, perpetual-motion tunnel; another moment they rush across the space as if there is no tomorrow, the music languishing in their wake like vapor trails from a comet. In other words, you really pay attention, which is what Hubbard Street artistic director Glenn Edgerton has in mind with the company’s focus on single choreographer programs, beginning in March, 2013 with the work of Jiří Kylián and continuing into the Fall 2015 season with William Forsythe. Cerrudo, HSDC’s first-ever resident choreographer and youngest of the three, has created fourteen works for the company to date.
There is a continuity of themes and ideas across the spectrum of his work, but especially in the three pieces represented here. All three pieces were costumed in variations of simple black practice clothes. Dancers taking physical inventory of each others’ bodies, an arm circumscribing a head, quirky arms, elbow jabs and plucks characterize Cerrudo’s movement lexicon, which is lush with swirling partner work, spiral turns, and swift-flowing group movement.
You feel Cerrudo’s insatiable curiosity at work in the intricacy of the dancers’ interactions in partnering, and in his fascination with stillness and the empty spaces dancers create whenever they move. This curiosity extends to overall spatial design, too, as reflected in the use of moving panels that alternately reveal and conceal in “Extremely Close” (2008) and “Little mortal jump” (2012). The panels, designed by Cerrudo and operated by the dancers, add a moving canvas to the choreography in both pieces.
“Extremely Close,” the first piece on the program, moves from the general to the specific, culminating in an exquisite duet for Jessica Tong and Andrew Murdock, as close and tender as new love, fresh with the wonder of mutual discovery. The surprise ending of this piece leaves a stunning after-image of Murdock lifting the edge of the flooring at the lip of the stage and folding Tong inside it as they both disappear into the darkness upstage. While this image is unique to the piece and startlingly original, the theme of disappearing from light into darkness, from concrete to ephemeral, bodies dissolving into the space before our very eyes, is one we see recurring in much of Cerrudo’s work.
“Little mortal jump,” the culminating piece on the program, begins with a nod to theatrical contrivances of early cinema, Charlie Chaplin, and the jauntiness of ragtime and vaudeville. It moves on to catalogue cultural evolution into the 21st century with a musical medley of modern composers. Here, mating takes on almost combative form, with Ana Lopez lifting Jesse Bechard, and he stepping onto her pelvis. Sharp contrast between fast music and simplicity in group movement leads to a dramatic flurry of spinning box panels, the two lovers, again, disappearing into obscurity. While this piece intrigues and entertains, its rapid historical progression leaves several rich choreographic forays in the dust with material that teases the audience but never quite reaches fruition. Justifiable, perhaps, because it’s so good, and yet, why stop there?
“Still in Motion” (premiere), is sandwiched between the two previously-produced pieces and thrusts each of the two across the perspective of Cerrudo’s artistic process. Aptly titled for its masterful manipulation of stillness to magnify the pin-point detail of gesture and shape in the movement, “Still in Motion” is an abstract work that shows a new level of structural maturity. Cerrudo uses a cornucopia of music, from Baroque to modern and much in between, to create a layered movement gammelon of mounting momentum both in sound and motion. Sinewy undulations alternate with the sudden flick of a hand or the jab of an elbow, the little thumps and burps of life momentarily interrupting lyrical flight. Silence and stillness give clarity and emphasis to shape that leaves its imprint in the space once the dancers have moved on. A poignant duet anchors the piece to a vocal solo by Nora Jones. Familiar “Cerrudo-isms” punctuate the movement vocabulary, and there is a commonality of mood with segments of each of the other pieces, and yet “Still” has its own unique look. The opening pose, utterly still with all eight dancers in a wide parallel fourth position, arms thrust heaven-ward, leads to running at top speed and a rush to more stillness. A trio of men gulping air and a woman with her back to the audience simply raising her shoulders until her neck disappears gives way to a march with an exaggerated flexed-foot stride, repeated at various intervals, absorbing a duet or trio. The movement has a deliberate, stated feel, gestures carving space around the shape of a head, an arm, an outstretched leg, under, around, and through, the dancers probing the negative spaces each other’s bodies create as movement alters shape.
On the plus side, seeing an entire evening of one choreographer’s work gives the audience a chance to get to know that artist in depth, and to appreciate more fully the scope and nuances of artistic vision, style, and aesthetics at play. With Cerrudo, it was an especially delicious treat to savor the splendor of his creative imagination and unique artistic vision. On the down side, there can be a sameness of style and dynamic that leaves one wishing for a bit more contrast, especially considering the preponderance of darkly dramatic Philip Glass-esque musical intensity that doesn’t let up. In a certain sense, it almost felt as if we were watching different phases of the same piece. And what if we were? It was all marvelous.