Darkness Never Dies

Touted as a “Halloween destination for ballet and horror fans alike,” American Contemporary Ballet, now in its thirteenth season—a feat in and of itself for any dance company—is presenting, LA’s Fatal Attraction: “Inferno” (2017), “Burlesque” (2018), and “The Rite” (2023), in repertory throughout October. Choreographed by ACB director Lincoln Jones, who described the triptych as “Halloween for David Lynch fans,” the works were less Blue Velvet(y) and more, well, “Cat People,” possibly because they were all estrogen-driven.

Performance

American Contemporary Ballet: “The Rite” and “Burlesque,” choreography by Lincoln Jones

Place

Television City, Los Angeles, California, October 11-31

Words

Victoria Looseleaf

American Contemporary Ballet in “The Rite” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Anastasia Petukhov

Yes, with nary a male in sight, save for the musicians, who were shrouded in darkness (to its credit, ACB always presents live accompaniment), the program, which could have been dubbed, “ballet noir,” offered some beautiful dancing and costumes, but suffered from repetitive steps, gestures and incessant black-outs (lighting design by Fernando Gonzalez).

That said, it’s always thrilling to see ballerinas up-close-and personal, with the peripatetic ACB performing (for the month of October only) at Television City, where such shows as “The Price is Right” and “The Carol Burnett Show” were once filmed. The space, with high ceilings and an ample performance area, proved ideal for this writer to see “The Rite” and “Burlesque” last Thursday.

Opening with Jones’ take on “Le Sacre du Printemps,” one of the most iconic ballets of all time that premiered in 1913 with the harmonically innovative, rhythmically propulsive score by Igor Stravinsky, and radical choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky, this “Rite” featured the composer’s two-piano reduction, ably performed by Brandon Zhou and Brendan White.

Not alone in tackling a new version of the work—at last count there’ve been some 100 plus choreographies, including Pina Bausch’s 1975 rendition performed on a stage covered in mounds of soft earth (seen at the Music Center last February). The French theater group, Zingaro, choreographed “Rite” for a bevy of prancing horses, and several women performed solo “Rites,” among them Molissa Fenley in 1988 and Germaine Acogny in 2015.

American Contemporary Ballet in “The Rite” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Anastasia Petukhov

To open the scenario, a lone gal, Hannah Barr (the Chosen One), is bathed in purple light, lying prone. What normally would have been Stravinsky’s haunting bassoon motif, was plinked out on the piano, the lights then morphing to green, pink and yellow, creating an image of Barr in this reviewer’s mind a figure akin to Ingres’ “La Grande Odalisque,” but one sure of her deadly fate. As the rhythms picked up—as revolutionary now as ever—10 veiled maidens, including Claire Bednarek, Taylor Berwick, Sarah Bukowski and Annette Cherkasov, came forth, a sexy coven, to be sure, all barefoot and ready to drag this gal through a bounty of paces. The resultant circle dance, albeit a diabolical one, featured dramatic running and crawling.

Costumed by Ruoxuan Li and Yasamin Sarabipour (the team also provided attire for “Burlesque”), the tribe, with their taupe-colored midriff tops and short wispy skirts (performers hailing from the “where-is-my-stomach” school of dance), and veils reminiscent of those found in Nijinska’s 1923 work, “Les Noces,” not only stalked the stage, but also trolled it: Their line formations, whether ramrod straight or bent over, seemed to embody the Stravinsky score, percussive, dissonant, compelling, all building to that inexorable conclusion.

But first, enter the Elder, a divine, determined Madeline Houk, clad in knight-like, neo-chain-mail garb, and dancing on pointe: Assured, provocative and, to put it bluntly, stunningly toxic, she tossed off rapid-fire pirouettes, with near six o’clock extensions saying, “I mean business.” And the business here was one of sacrifice.

American Contemporary Ballet in “The Rite” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Anastasia Petukhov

As the dance continued, six of the, well, cult-like members, appeared with corn husk-style headdresses, Barr walking through the two groups of three and owning more of her destiny, readying herself for what’s to come. Still, as Barr is, in a sense exalted, she becomes increasingly ready to take on the ten gals of the clan/mob, who, at one point lie on the floor, their legs waving back and forth in concert, à la synchronized swimming—or horizontal Rockettes!

One wondered if Jones had run out of ideas, relying instead on strobe lights. Indeed, the constant illumination shifts proved somewhat of a distraction. Nevertheless, as Stravinsky’s thrashing, throbbing music builds to Barr’s ultimate demise, she is glimpsed, for a moment, standing tall and bathed in red, bringing the work to a close, whiffs of red powder visible at this raucous, not totally cohesive terpsichorean display.

With barefoot mode abandoned for stilettos, the women of “Burlesque,” performed a dancerly, updated take on the Mad Men era. Featuring variations on sexy moves made famous by teasers such as Sally Rand, Gypsy Rose Lee and Tempest Storm, Jones’ post-modern approach to the art form featured a score by Charles Wuorinen (he died in 2020), and was commissioned by ACB. Accompanied by the aforementioned pianists, this number was divided into seven “Variations,” and spotlighted (literally) soloists who, by turns, sashayed, pranced and slinked about the stage.

One scene featured a gal on a leash (Kirstin Steckmann), crawling, as it were, in S & M mode, attended by Bednarek. Corsets and fishnets ruled, as well as self-caressing and slitherings also defining the performers in these lusty vignettes, with Vanessa Meikle being undressed by Bednarek and Smith in another tableau.

Madeline Houk in “Burlesque” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Anastasia Petukhov

A sofa was the centerpiece of Variation V, with several gals in 50s dress, all very soigné and feigning smoking cigarettes. There was also a red telephone (shades of Sorry, Wrong Number—or not), conjuring images of prim and proper ladies by day (think Norman Rockwell, on acid), sex workers by night. Again, the dancers, including Berwick, being attended to by Sophie Treibitz, Bukowski, Steckmann, Victoria Manning, Emma Maples, and Quincey Smith were luscious, but the chorography lacked a certain heft.

Houk and Barr had deployed sultry solo turns, and, with four others, ended the work on the floor, lunging, mouths first, into a cherry pie, the pulsating music crescendo-ing, the gals’ mouths smeared in sticky red. This act of rebellious housewifery climaxed—voilà—in a big dance party, with bassist Ryan Roberts, drummers Marcelo Bucater and Benton Roswell (music by Morgan Jones and Michael Arrom) adding a jazzy element to the scene, with audience members then invited to shake their booties alongside the cast, in what was decidedly not a “ten-cents-a-dance” routine.

This reviewer applauds Jones and the dedicated ballerinas of ACB, but less fragmented choreography and more attention to structure—sans overdependence on lighting schemes—would be appreciated. This may be that spooky time of year, but darkness, in whatever form it takes, never dies, and needn’t be taken so literally.

Victoria Looseleaf

Victoria Looseleaf is an award-winning, Los Angeles-based international arts journalist who covers music and dance festivals around the world. Among the many publications she has contributed to are the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Dance Magazine and KCET’s Artbound. In addition, she taught dance history at USC and Santa Monica College. Looseleaf’s novella-in-verse, Isn't It Rich? is available from Amazon, and and her latest book, Russ & Iggy’s Art Alphabet with illustrations by JT Steiny, was recently published by Red Sky Presents. Looseleaf can be reached through X, Facebook, Instagram and Linked In, as well as at her online arts magazine ArtNowLA.

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