BalaSole, Boundless Soul - Uneven Showing; Review

A phenomenal dancer of small height - and a former member of Complexions – Roberto Villanueva created BalaSole to address the inequity of opportunities afforded talented dancers with unconventional attributes. For instance, the wunderkind ballerina who suddenly develops curves, or the rail thin trickster who cannot bulk up with muscle; this is one of the only companies in the world for those sui generis “passed-overs”. As evidenced by the completely sold-out BAM Fisher concert hall, the idea is quite popular. But what happens when you present a series of solos created by talented performers who are not necessarily the best choreographers? More often than not, a by-the-numbers exhibition of phenomenal physical feats that go nowhere; great ideas sans proper development can only fascinate for so long before the law of diminishing returns takes hold.

Case in point: multi-textural movement performed by a radiantly beautiful Black woman; how could that possibly fail? With the realization that Kennedy Hill had no idea how to end These Days, forcing us to watch her groove aimlessly to the banal droning of Drake. Similarly, Jacob Regan’s boneless slithering across the floor morphed into gravity annihilating balances that initially thrilled the senses before settling into “what else can you do besides make facial tics that feel inorganic to what came before?”.

More successful was MeganAnna Griffin’s Maybe I’m Not... which seamlessly folded jazz dancing and perfectly executed feats into a well-crafted composition that meshed well with its music. Griffin, a former Junior Olympian for Rhythmic Gymnastics, is the sort of dancer who can seemingly do anything one asks of her. The problem therein is that her music - by The Avett Brothers - was of the saccharine pop variety associated with rhythmic gymnastic routines for teenagers, and so was her choreography.

Great promise was shown with Elijah Laurant’s Under His Eye, a stark political statement set to Miles Hodges’ Maskless which baldly stated “everybody knows you can’t trust a pretty boy with light skin.” Gracefully choreographed with athletic movement that put one in mind of Jiří Kylián’s style - though with its own peculiarly marvelous rhythmic sequencing - and excellently costumed with a black hoodie that evoked Trayvon Martin, this work had everything going for it until it didn’t. Over the course of the piece, Laurant removed articles of clothing leaving him – like the now finished text - exposed in boxers and with nothing else to say. So he meandered about on stage until the lights finally came down. Despite the letdown, I hope Laurant continues to develop this piece; it has much to say and very nearly succeeds in saying it all.

This seemed to be the common thread throughout the evening of solos: wonderful openings that could not seal the deal. What saved the concert from feeling like a dissatisfying affair was the fantastic opening, Chapter 17 – an ensemble work comprised of movement contributed by the dancers and then arranged into a tapestry of dazzling cogency by company alumna Teal Darkenwald - and Broken Memory, the solo of guest performer Miki Orihara. A former Principal Dancer of The Martha Graham Dance Company, Orihara has become an acclaimed solo artist in her own right. What sets her apart from the other talented performers on this concert bill is that she relies upon her innate elegance rather than physical virtuosity to tell a story, with results that prove more stirring than any high kick or jump ever could. Rather than me singing praise of her magnificent performance, I encourage you to follow her and to experience it for yourself.

The concert closed with another collaborative effort, which though less successfully composed, swelled with greater heart as Orihara and Villanueva joined in as a pair of admiring faces wandering through the sea of humanity onstage. What stays with me is a comment my audience neighbour made: “They are my favourite company to watch next to the Ailey company.” Indeed, and they face a similar problem; choreography that is not always equal to its talent. Here’s hoping they find a cure for that particular ailment.

For more information about BalaSole Dance Company, visit: balasoledance.org