CityBeat Fringe Coverage 2008
May 30, 2008
Review: Destination Fringe
Critic's Pick
Psophonia’s performance brings forth much modern dance bang for the buck. Led by co-artistic directors Sophia Torres and Sonia Noriega, this six-strong cast came all the way from Houston, packing a suitcase with eight distinct pieces. Call it a split between the light and quirky, heavy and dark, classic and pretty.
All choreography is provided between Torres and Noriega. In a feat of adaptation, the dancers shift moods from piece to piece as dramatically as our local weather changes from one moment to the next. They also seem equally at home with both traditional and off-the-wall works, whether they were balanced with legs extended far and wide or completely cocooned in reddish-pink full-body sacks.
Why the sacks? The piece is “Worms,” and sure enough a trio scoot themselves onstage and contort to the peppy sounds of War’s “Low Rider.” (Get it?) Unison moments brought to mind a vermi-exercise class. It’s a cute gimmick, whose duration stretches only to the brink of wearing thin.
“Bent” and “Broken Off,” both choreographed by Torres, bookend the hour-long program. Grace and technique are displayed in clean, full sweeps of limbs, prevalent balances and highly expressive output in the evening’s most intricate choreography.
A kinetic sense of urgency prevails in “Bent” with its drums-and-bass thumps, yet the quartet of dancers remains as lithe and agile as you please. Palms quiver, trace and smack the floor. Body rolls and ripples punctuate the non-stop action. Solos tear away from groups, only to be rejoined by the gang in short order.
I didn’t get a clear sense of the title’s significance — I thought of bent limbs, bent in the sense of being strange. But I felt there must have been a greater intention.
“Broken Off” also explores the individual’s existence within group dynamics. All clad in bright crimson, the five cling to and support one another literally and figuratively as they attempt to avoid precarious circumstances that are physical and emotional. Again, a sense of imminent danger hangs heavy in the atmosphere, tempered by some softness and comfort.
Emotional disturbances shine forth once again when Elizabeth Lucrezio finds herself alone in the “… Devil’s Playground” while she's simply washing her face before a mirror. Bathed in blood-red light, angst digs deep into her being as parts of her body become possessed, beyond her control. Then it was over and she resumed her toilette. Was it just a bad trip?
I was also befuddled by the title choice for the excerpt from Correspondence. Call me too literal, but only the large "god" hands on a video projection communicating in sign language with one another directly appeared to be in correspondence. I failed to see a strong sense of choreographic connection to the title or to the video.
Inspired by Torres’ 2-year-old daughter’s charming malapropisms, the oddly titled “Mazagines & Beat Selts” excerpt explores myriad ways to use — and playfully abuse — a pair of twin mattresses. First Torres alone, then Noriega and Lucrezio do anything and everything you’re not supposed to do with mattresses — except lie on them, as they do at the end. The women become playful as cubs, bouncing, jogging, rippling, rolling and crash-landing in a delightful romp. Oh, and this is set to the strains of Bach strings, an unexpected choice.
The program is rounded out by “Skinned,” an ambitious solo to Tom Waits’ growls, performed admirably by Timothy Johnson, and an excerpt from Phantasia 2007.
Though the company has been around for a decade, the dancers look remarkably young. (But dancers can seem ageless.) I suspect some of their movements might still have room to burgeon even beyond the clear technical skills on display.
Psophonia fills the space with their expansive energy and obvious commitment to movement from one piece into the next, however different each might be. During an earlier interview, Noriega told me, “If you don’t like one piece, just wait for the next one.” I’m glad they packed a mixed bag.
— Julie Mullins
May 30, 2008
Review: Destination Fringe
Critic's Pick
Psophonia’s performance brings forth much modern dance bang for the buck. Led by co-artistic directors Sophia Torres and Sonia Noriega, this six-strong cast came all the way from Houston, packing a suitcase with eight distinct pieces. Call it a split between the light and quirky, heavy and dark, classic and pretty.
All choreography is provided between Torres and Noriega. In a feat of adaptation, the dancers shift moods from piece to piece as dramatically as our local weather changes from one moment to the next. They also seem equally at home with both traditional and off-the-wall works, whether they were balanced with legs extended far and wide or completely cocooned in reddish-pink full-body sacks.
Why the sacks? The piece is “Worms,” and sure enough a trio scoot themselves onstage and contort to the peppy sounds of War’s “Low Rider.” (Get it?) Unison moments brought to mind a vermi-exercise class. It’s a cute gimmick, whose duration stretches only to the brink of wearing thin.
“Bent” and “Broken Off,” both choreographed by Torres, bookend the hour-long program. Grace and technique are displayed in clean, full sweeps of limbs, prevalent balances and highly expressive output in the evening’s most intricate choreography.
A kinetic sense of urgency prevails in “Bent” with its drums-and-bass thumps, yet the quartet of dancers remains as lithe and agile as you please. Palms quiver, trace and smack the floor. Body rolls and ripples punctuate the non-stop action. Solos tear away from groups, only to be rejoined by the gang in short order.
I didn’t get a clear sense of the title’s significance — I thought of bent limbs, bent in the sense of being strange. But I felt there must have been a greater intention.
“Broken Off” also explores the individual’s existence within group dynamics. All clad in bright crimson, the five cling to and support one another literally and figuratively as they attempt to avoid precarious circumstances that are physical and emotional. Again, a sense of imminent danger hangs heavy in the atmosphere, tempered by some softness and comfort.
Emotional disturbances shine forth once again when Elizabeth Lucrezio finds herself alone in the “… Devil’s Playground” while she's simply washing her face before a mirror. Bathed in blood-red light, angst digs deep into her being as parts of her body become possessed, beyond her control. Then it was over and she resumed her toilette. Was it just a bad trip?
I was also befuddled by the title choice for the excerpt from Correspondence. Call me too literal, but only the large "god" hands on a video projection communicating in sign language with one another directly appeared to be in correspondence. I failed to see a strong sense of choreographic connection to the title or to the video.
Inspired by Torres’ 2-year-old daughter’s charming malapropisms, the oddly titled “Mazagines & Beat Selts” excerpt explores myriad ways to use — and playfully abuse — a pair of twin mattresses. First Torres alone, then Noriega and Lucrezio do anything and everything you’re not supposed to do with mattresses — except lie on them, as they do at the end. The women become playful as cubs, bouncing, jogging, rippling, rolling and crash-landing in a delightful romp. Oh, and this is set to the strains of Bach strings, an unexpected choice.
The program is rounded out by “Skinned,” an ambitious solo to Tom Waits’ growls, performed admirably by Timothy Johnson, and an excerpt from Phantasia 2007.
Though the company has been around for a decade, the dancers look remarkably young. (But dancers can seem ageless.) I suspect some of their movements might still have room to burgeon even beyond the clear technical skills on display.
Psophonia fills the space with their expansive energy and obvious commitment to movement from one piece into the next, however different each might be. During an earlier interview, Noriega told me, “If you don’t like one piece, just wait for the next one.” I’m glad they packed a mixed bag.
— Julie Mullins
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