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Back to School

Who knew that a PB & J sandwich could conjure Proust’s madeleine? Certainly not this writer. But it’s not farfetched to think that Lincoln Jones, the artistic director, choreographer and conceptual guru of American Contemporary Ballet, had the idea of memory in mind when he conceived “Homecoming.” An ingenious idea that took root in 2021 and was premiered in 2023, this revisiting of the good old—or bad old—days, takes an audience back to high school times.

Performance

American Contemporary Ballet: “Homecoming”

Place

Bank of America Plaza, Los Angeles, California, March 8-29, 2025

Words

Victoria Looseleaf

American Contemporary Ballet in “Homecoming” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Mary Joyce

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And in a parade of pink—Barbie has nothing over Lincoln’s ladies—seen last Saturday at the troupe’s home in downtown Los Angeles, this was an immersive work teeming with cheerleaders, a drill team, school assembly, marching band and the proverbial homecoming dance. As Jones is a devotee of Balanchine, who made his 1958 neoclassical ballet, “Stars and Stripes,” as a tribute to his adopted country, America, so, too, has Jones crafted a sly piece of reminiscence for the troupe he co-founded in 2011.

With 16 ballerinas and an original score composed by Michael Arrom, Ana Barreiro and Jones (perhaps for his next act the multi-hyphenate will pen a novel), and performed live under music director Morgan Jones, “Homecoming” was both a wistful look back at high school rituals—think John Hughes’ 80s comedies—while remaining utterly in the present. 

After all, this estrogen-driven squad, beginning in sneakers and cheer outfits (uniforms and dresses by Yasamin Sarabipour and Ruoxuan Li), proved a saucy lot: Moving to the percussive rhythms of four drumming dudes, their hips and ponytails swinging to the beat, the cadre deployed unison split jumps, finger-snapping and shoulder shrugging, with soloists including Taylor Berwick and Kate Huntington, Sarah Bukowski and Kristin Steckmann, Annette Cherkasov and Hannah Barr, and the always divine Madeline Houk.

Call it cheercore! Seriously, this drill team, a decided 10, could have been, well, a Jeffrey Epstein fever dream, their oh-so-rosy youth on parade, with fouettés an added bonus. Or, perhaps, to paraphrase the Kurt Cobain hit, it was akin to, “Dances Like Teen Spirit!” No matter, this was surely a rousing start, with the gals soon ceding the stage to a bumbling school administrator, shrinking violet Janice (Angelina Brower), who then introduced an egomaniacal principal (Spencer Dooley). His monologue, centering on the notion of regret, however, dragged on too long, with lunch a brief respite from his schtick.

Okay, wait! Did someone say “lunch?” Ah, yes, some of us had been served a brown-bag meal by lunch lady Anna Primorac, which is where the PB & J acted as Jones’/cum/Proust’s small cakes. Also in the bag: candied cigarettes, a cookie and tiny elastics. Had this scribe a pellet or pea, she might have targeted one at Dooley (just kidding)!

American Contemporary Ballet in “Homecoming” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Caleb Thal

In any case, the reason for the overly long rant became apparent when the dancers bounded back on stage, sporting toe shoes, their hair now in chic ballet bun mode. Yes, sporting might be the apt verb for this procession, which was abetted by Rockette-like precision as the ballerinas, now clad in chemise-like leotards and short white gloves, marched in lock-step on pointe. This was a gasp-inducing vignette, especially seen up-close-and personal in ACB’s ultra-cool space. 

Getting jiggy was also part of their routine, as these go-go goddesses sped across the floor, leaping one moment, bourréeing another, all to the incessant beats of drummers Greg Niemi, Alexis Nguyen, Benton Roswell and Zach Dowd. With their arms spread wide and assuming the occasional angled stance, these terpsichores did their muse proud. 

Never flagging, the lasses moved in forward, sideways and backwards line formations with shocking ease—gamboling in reverse on pointe shoes is no easy feet, er, feat—their committed synchronicity somewhat mindboggling, as well as a joy to behold.

If this had been a theater with a proscenium stage offering viewers an overhead perspective, and not a long narrow performance area with audience seated on several rows of risers, the Busby Berkeley effect would have been on full view. Alas, this was not to be, with Jones, instead, having confidence in both his choreography and sure-footed cast, knowing that their precision would still hold considerable sway.

Indeed, where else can one bask in the beauty of ballerinas on parade, their ramrod straight backs and arabesques a wonder, the mood soon amped up with the entrance of four brass players: Khristian Foreman, Khris Purkson, Nathan Fulmizi and Ethan Holmes. Raucous, rowdy and oh-so high schooly, the oompah squad further adrenalized the scene. The only thing missing were pom-poms, but witnessing the dames, including Quincey Smith, Paige Wilkey, Claire Bednarek and Victoria Manning, running in place on pointe was dramatic enough.

American Contemporary Ballet in “Homecoming” by Lincoln Jones. Photograph by Caleb Thal

Call it peak performance, and with Payton Jane’s lighting scheme a perfect complement, whether dim and dimmer, or shades of blue, the dance demonstrated a study in camaraderie and humanity—something not always found among high school students. 

But there was more to come. Yes, after intermission the prom King and Queen were crowned, and a five-piece rock band began playing, with the mood downright giddy, made more so by the disco ball overhead. Balloons were also passed around, blown up and tossed onto the stage, giving the room an even more über-festive feel. Enter, then, the dancers, including Emma Maples, Vanessa Meikle, Ellie Renner, Julianne Kinasiewicz and Natalia Burns, in prom gowns, several of whom chose partners from the audience to boogie onstage with them.

And talk about a denouement: Barr entered as the stag—possibly an apparition of a bygone mascot, but one replete with antlers on her head—and began peeling off her gown before leaping à la a Yaqui deer dancer. The deep red lighting was also reminiscent of the final scene in the film, “Carrie,” who was doused with a bucket of pig’s blood at her high school prom. 

Fortunately, no plasma was spread at this shindig. But, as the mesmeric Barr—she of the “where’s my stomach” school of ballet—crawled through the inflatables in arachnid fashion, as well as in a “Rite of Spring”-ish manner, the performance ended.

Now it was time to party on the dance floor with the Class of 2025—and Mr. Jones, who took a turn with this reviewer, one that, when all was said and done, had to somehow work off that PB & J sandwich. 

In other words, “rah, rah, sis boom bah!”

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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