The definition of ‘American dance’ is expanding… and it’s about time
To me, the words “American Dance Platform” make me think of some kind of hammy, red-white-and-blue, spangly affair with Souza and old showtunes as the soundtrack.
Fortunately, the reality of American Dance Platform (ADP), an annual series at The Joyce Theater, is far from that.
This month, The Joyce hosted eight very different companies on its stage, celebrating styles ranging from Irish dance to swing to flamenco. This was my first time attending an ADP show, and my #1 dance pal and I decided to see PHILADANCO! and Hālau O Kekuhi.
Going in, I didn’t know anything about either company, but I did know that Hālau O Kekuhi performed hula, which was reason enough to see the show.
The last time I saw a hula performance was at the old Whitney Museum of American Art on the Upper East Side in 2014. My dear friend Stormie, who was my partner-in-crime for many years in Seoul, has practiced hula for years, and her halau (or hula dance company) was invited to dance in the lobby. There were Prada shirts. There were leis. I cried! I loved it.
This weekend’s performance was very different — but before I get to Hālau O Kekuhi, let’s talk about PHILDANCO!
What a beautiful company. All of the dancers appeared to be people of color who were at the pinnacles of their careers. They moved lyrically, at times conveying fragility, then desire, then playfulness. From the front row, I loved seeing the dancers lock eyes with their partners and exchange tiny smiles. They looked like they were having a fantastic time.
I’m no expert in styles of dance, but this seemed to me like it was contemporary ballet, very current in style. Costumes were very minimal — solid colors, unadorned, perfectly cut to highlight the dancers’ incredible forms.
Based on the program notes, the first piece, called “Between the Lines,” was “inspired by the architectural drawings of Frank Lloyd Wright.” Philip Glass and Gidon Kremer composed the music. I recognized Glass’s name — he’s very famous, but I don’t have the greatest association with him after seeing an exhausting (to me) Lucinda Childs performance last year that used a super repetitive, dizzying piece of his music. Thankfully, this composition was more classical in nature, matching the balletic movements of the dancers.
The second number (am I allowed to call them “numbers”?) felt even more contemporary than the first. The music, composed by Bongi Duma and John Powell, was bass-driven — “theatrical,” my friend called it.
Divided into three sections, the performance had a good bit of couple-dancing (pas de deux, I think, if you want to get fancy about it). The first, “Composition,” was meant to show three different couples. I liked how the couples seemed to throw their partners around, as if flinging their limbs out.
The second, “Theme of Peace,” showed two brothers experiencing a loss, which I found most arresting. I rarely see same-sex pairings in dance, and I feel like they take into account whole different centers of gravity and weights — it’s like a different feat of physics compared to a man lifting a woman. The third was a celebration of a “cohesive community.” It was intense, yet joyous and sensual. Good stuff.
Hālau O Kekuhi was very different. The company and its fans felt like a community. Before the show, I overheard some other audience members chatting, and they were definitely there for the hula. Before the dancing began and between pieces, two seated older women, the leaders of the halau, explained a bit about what we were going to see and played out a rhythm using tall gourds or drums. The dancers were clearly practiced, but I also felt their humility — at the end of the show, it seemed the company hadn’t rehearsed any fancy bows. When the closing applause came, some dancers nodded, one man did a tiny, shy bow, and some just sort of soaked it in.
Part of the awesome immediacy of seeing Hālau O Kekuhi was the live music and the way that the dancers create their own rhythm and sound. Stamping feet, shouting voices, pounding wooden poles — it really brought you into the moment. To me, the dancers’ movements really evoked the nature of Hawaii — volcanic rock, the sunshine.
This wasn’t the type of swingy-hips hula you see in movies or at tourist luaus. It seemed more affirming, with deliberate steps and proud voices. Of course, I couldn’t understand what the dancers were saying, but I kept thinking how cool it was that this performance was being presented as part of a series called American Dance Platform. After all, our many languages are essential to the American character. I recalled that at earlier points in history, white Americans tried to suppress hula, yet here we were in this storied New York institution of dance, appreciating this indigenous culture.
On the ride home, I thought about how everyone who had taken the stage that night appeared to be a person of color. This is a real rarity in professional dance, and I feel The Joyce is on the forefront of change. At no other New York venue have I seen so many performers of such diverse backgrounds, and it’s part of what keeps me coming back for more.
What I Saw:
PHILDANCO!
“Between the Lines”
Choreographer: Franciscso Gella
Music: Philip Glass & Gidon Kremer
“Super 8!”
Choreographer: Ray Mercer
Music: Bongi Duma (original store) & John Powell
Hālau O Kekuhi
“Hi’iakaikapoliopele”
Kumu hula (artistic directors/hula masters): Nalani Kanaka’ole & Huihui Kanahele-Mossman
Here’s a peek at both companies, although the performances I saw were quite different than the ones filmed here:
