Above: from Annie Rigney's new work for the Martha Graham Dance Company, GET UP, MY DAUGHTER
Sunday April 23rd, 2023 matinee - Two Graham masterpieces and two recently-premiered works new to the Graham Company repertoire held the stage at the Joyce Theater this afternoon.
DARK MEADOW SUITE, one of Graham's most beautiful works (with an equally beautiful Carlos Chávez score) opened the performance. At curtain-rise, the women are posed like icons, with Anne Souder slightly removed from the others. They begin stamping their feet. A plaintive violin theme is heard, joined by the cello. The women move with classic Graham steps and gestures; Ms. Souder is simply sublime.
Now Lloyd Knight (above) appears, striking poses in a spellbinding opening solo which develops into a stage-filling dance. Ms. Souder joins him for a duet in which an electric current seems to pass between them; their intimate partnering is at once sensual and ritualistic.
The kneeling men hold the women in a uniquely lovely leaning, questing pose, symbolic of seeking or longing; Ms. Souder and Mr. Knight continue to reign in duet and solo phrases: unbearably tender and heartfelt.
Aside from the principal couple, the cast for MEADOW today featured Leslie Andrea Williams, Laurel Dalley Smith, Marzia Memoli, Devin Loh, Kate Reyes, Jacob Larsen, Richard Villaverde, and new-to-Graham James Anthony.
Above: Marzia Memoli and So Young An in Annie Rigney's GET UP, MY DAUGHTER; photo by Steven Pisano
Ms. Rigney's debut piece for Graham opened earlier in the week. It is a harrowing work, set to a thrilling score by Marco Rosano which incorporates Bulgarian folk music with original themes by the composer, and with stunning lighting by Yi Chung-Chen. It tells a story similar to one that I heard long ago from my high-school girlfriend.
A quartet of young women in satiny frocks - So Young An, Anne O'Donnell, Anne Souder, and Marzia Memoli - dance together to chanted harmonies. They seem wary, full of angst and longing.
Above, in a Melissa Sherwood photo: Richard Villaverde makes a disturbingly powerful impression as the man of the house, who singles out So Young An as his partner of the moment in a dramatic duet of control, resistance, and resignation. The music is solemn, with the haunting voice of the great counter-tenor Andreas Scholl bringing a timeless feel.
Ying Xin joins the sisterhood, who have apparently been drugged into near stupor; while heavenly harmonies are heard, they seem to plan an escape but lack the strength to attempt it. The organ joins the musical soundscape, lending a curiously religious air. Mr. Villaverde returns; the women tremble in fear. Drums thunder forth, and the piece ends suddenly.
Above: Ying Xin, Marzia Memoli, and So Young An in GET UP, MY DAUGHTER; photo by Steve Pisano
Why this work affected me so deeply lies in recalling my girlfriend's experience, of which I was unaware at the time. For three years, her father routinely raped her, her two older sisters, and her younger brother. I was aware of the extreme tension she endured living in a home with a drunken father, but I never knew about the sexual side of it until a few years later, after she had escaped and moved to Washington DC. I only knew how she clung to me in our tender, juvenile - but curiously "knowing" - love-making. Her father eventually blew his brains out.
Above: from CORTEGE 2023, with Ruchard Villaverde kneeling; photo by Steve Pisano
Equally thought-provoking this afternoon was the second darkly powerful new work, CORTEGE 2023, set to a score by Aidan Elias and choreographed by Baye & Asa. This piece spoke of the dangerous world in which we now live: scenes of violence, torture, and isolation alternate with depictions of mourning and consolation.
Chimes sound at curtain-rise as a diagonal of dancers are seen covered by a shroud, which is slowly pulled away as the dancing starts. The lighting (again by Yi-Chung Chen) flashingly isolates various tableaux of people under duress: prisoners, the interrogated, the isolated, the bereaved.
Lloyd Knight's solo (above photo by Melissa Sherwood), set to sinister music, is riveting. Rhythmic variety, and ritualistic acts, carry the piece eerily forward. Anne O'Donnell's solo is so expressive, and James Anthony has an opportunity to shine.
Above: Lorenzo Pagano and the ensemble; photo by Steve Pisano
Violence has become a fact of life, as indicated by a cataclysmic buildup of brass in the score. An animated quartet become a hypnotic sextet: the movement is non-stop. Deep chords invoke feelings of doom; and then, as silence falls, the vast shroud is used as a cover-up.
The afternoon ended with a spectacular performance of Martha Graham's take on the Medea story: CAVE OF THE HEART. The Metropolitan Opera's 2022-2023 season opened with the Met's first-ever performance of Cherubini's MEDEA starring the inimitable Sondra Radvanovsky, so the story is fresh in the memory.
Leslie Andrea Williams (above, in a Melissa Sherwood photo) radiated her distinctive star-power in a performance that brought the character's double personality - abandoned lover and conniving sorceress - vividly to life. When she is not doing, she is always thinking; Leslie's expressive face, and her eyes - ever scanning the scene for what damage she can do - are as vital to her playing of the role as her dancing.
Laurel Dalley Smith (photo above by Melissa Sherwood) gave a dazzling performance as the naive bride, basking in Jason's attentive courting, unaware of the doom that awaits her.
Lorenzo Pagano as the proud Jason, looking to be King of Corinth whilst scorning the woman who made it all possible, pays the cost of his betrayal. His earlier show of pride, taunting Medea with his worshipful wooing of the young princess, plunges him headlong into disaster. (Photo above by Melissa Sherwood).
Presiding overall, and striving in vain to prevent the ultimate catastrophe, the marvelous Natasha S. Diamond-Walker - a Graham goddess if ever there was one - conveyed both the dignity and the anxiety of the all-knowing Chorus in perfect measure. (Photo above by Melissa Sherwood).
It surprises me that Martha Graham did not bring the children of Medea and Jason into her telling of the story. The two young boys are a key element in the Cherubini opera, wherein Medea surpasses the cruelty of murdering Jason's betrothed by knifing the youths. She flings their bloody corpses at Jason's feet; aghast, he asks her: "What was their crime??" to which she calmly replies: "They were your children..."
Following the performance, I went downstairs to greet and thank the dancers, and was thrilled to see again - after waaaay too long - two of my Graham idols, Blakeley McGuire and Carrie Ellmore-Tallitsch.
~ Oberon