Those earnest, well-meaning, self-confident if often delusional
choreographers in the second half of the 20th century tried so hard.
And, of course, they tried the patience of all but the most completely
blind critics in the process.

Besides admiring the hundreds of dancer working bees who suffered through
the period, I found it an obvious fact that for every Paul Taylor, James
Kudelka, William Forsythe and such up-and-coming ones as Val Caniparoli,
Julia Adam and Yuri Possokhov, there were hundreds and hundreds of
dance-makers who shouldn't have.

Against that history, it was thrilling to attend two concerts this weekend
where art prevailed and foolishness remained in check.  Cal Performances
hosted Mark Morris (the new standard of excellence in dance) in Zellerbach
Hall, and SF Performances presented Ballet Preljocaj at Yerba Buena in
a program as satisfying as I have seen from this 19-year-old company by
the dancer from Sucy-en-Brie.

What made me think of the vast body of bad choreography was a new work
by Morris, "Foursome," danced by Himself (in deliberately ridiculous
Bermuda shorts) and three veteran dancers: Shawn Gannon, John Heginbotham
and Guillermo Resto.

To a fascinating amalgam of Satie "Gnossiennes" and Hummel's Hungarian
Dances (performed with affecting brilliance by pianist Sara Davis
Buechner), the "foursome" portrayed an endless catalogue of self-absorbed,
pretentious gestures, in a hugely entertaining (and "educational") send-up
of "modern dance." How on earth did Morris manage to make this piece a
fine work of dance at the same time is just beyond me.

The Sunday matinee opened with another delightful new Morris work,
"Resurrection," to music from Richard Rodgers' "Slaughter on Tenth
Avenue," members of the Berkeley Symphony conducted by Cal Performances
director (and a long-long time Morris supporter) Robert Cole.  It is to
Cole's credit that somehow he has managed to produce the Morris concert
with a live orchestra - an indispensable element more and more presenters
dispense with these days.

"Resurrection," a riotous pajama party with an occasional bullet, is one
of those heartwarming, charming works that put a smile on your face at
the beginning, there to stay to the very end.  The 1991 "A Lake," to a
Haydn horn concerto (Stuart Gronningen playing the solo), is a work of
romantic elegance, not a false note in it.  "Lucky Charms," from 1994,
with Ibert's "Divertissement," was the perfect ending, mirroring the
opening "Resurrection" with its bright, warm, endlessly engrossing
choreography.

The company, without exception, is in top form.  Maile Okamura, Julie
Worden, June Omura and Bradon McDonald were outstanding at the matinee.

Against all that good news, something did go wrong - about as badly as
I've seen since Morris' early days.  It's hard to believe that Zellerbach
Hall, the venue for the world premiere of Morris' glorious "V," now
served as the launching pad for "Something Lies Beyond the Scene."

Danced to the Walton-Sitwell "Facade," this is a work simply not ready
for prime time.  Recited poorly by Morris and atrociously by two others
(Marjorie Folkman managed to get through it), the text was unintelligible.
The choreography is episodic, a start-stop series of ideas, not yet
thought through.  With Morris, you win many, you lose one.

Preljocaj in the past often reminded me of the self-righteous silliness
parodied in "Foursome," but the company's always-amazing dancers this
time had something to work with.

If you're lucky enough to have thought of having earplugs with you,
the Karlheinz Stockhausen "Helicopter Quartet" is OK to serve in lieu
of somebody banging on cans right next to your ear (poor Arditti Quartet
doing the honors), but Preljocaj's manic choreography is certainly
worthwhile, spectacular beyond empty effects.  Three couples, in the
best Preljocaj tradition, dance their hearts out, performing a 35-minute
marathon any world-class athlete should be proud of.

With infinitely better music, the company's new "Le Sacre du Printemps"
is a definite winner. It has, ahem, some unusual touches, such as the
silent prelude of the mini-skirted girls ceremonially removing their
panties; the subsequent nudity and an orgy befitting the music and its
original intention, but through it all, there is DANCE - interesting,
surprising, compelling.

Janos Gereben/SF
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