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The
atmosphere
of
an
event
already
greets
the
audience
in
the
foyer:
the
chandeliers
shine
in
alien
red,
a
quiet
roar
evokes
the
noise
of
a
huge
crowd;
an
elegant
smoke
machine
steams
white
curls
into
the
hall.
Inside
the
auditorium
of
the
War
Memorial
Theater,
the
red
lighting
and
the
roar
continue
and
slowly
grow
deeper
as
the
performance
time
strikes.
There
is
nothing
but
sound
for
several
minutes,
and
a
dark
curtain
waiting.
Some
delicate
harmonies
seep
into
the
electronic
roar;
orchestral
strings
mix
in
from
the
pit.
It
brings
to
mind
Wagner’s
famous
slowly
growing
soundscape
of
the
beginning
world
in
his Ring cycle.
Whereas
Wagner’s
world
opens
into
the
eternal
waters
of
the
river
Rhine, Mere Mortals opens to a Greek creation myth: to the Titan brothers Prometheus (“Foresight”) and Epimetheus (”Hindsight”) who formed men and animals from chaos, stole fire from the gods and received the first woman, Pandora, as a poisoned gift for their punishment.
Prometheus. Esteban Hernandez
Canadian choreographer Aszure Barton tells the story of Pandora’s box as
an allegory for today’s dangerous gifts of AI. Mere Mortals is the first-ever
full-length ballet by a woman at SF Ballet. It was commissioned by the
company’s new artistic director, Tamara Rojo, to launch the first season of
her reign.
Several other “firsts” add to the event: the first collaboration of SF Ballet’s
Orchestra (under Martin Wes) with the British electronic composer
Floating Points, alias Sam Shepherd, and his “Buchla,” a 1963 synthesizer.
Barcelona-based designers Hamill Industries got a first SF Ballet
commission for set design, and Australian fashion designer Michelle Jank
created the costumes.
Hope. Wei Wang
The curtain rises over a black stage with a red neon line shining through a
layer of fog. A single androgynous figure dances with high leg holds and
undulating arms that turn wing-like: Hemes, perhaps, the flighty god who
brought the seductive Pandora to the mortals? No, the program notes tell
us it is Hope, the last of the god-given spirits trapped in Pandora’s box. We
may deduct: “In the beginning, there was Hope.” Principal Wei Wang
conveys pliable charm and imperturbable, quasi-divine assurance. It’s a
superb bit of choreography, performed with a touch of poetry that brought
to mind Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the thing with feathers…”
Mortals
A white light eruption from three geometrical gates or portals conjures
humanity -- a group of forty dancers in black coats with broad shoulders
and wide, skirt-like bottoms. The forty “mortals“ (you can’t tell female
from male dancers) have a look of intergalactic travelers with a touch of
Darth Vader – a fantastic costume design by Michelle Jank that spells
ancient creation myth as much as sci-fi. Partly made from thrift store
materials, her coats enhance the wide swinging-flying movements of the
massive group to great effect.
Titans. Cavan Conley, Esteban Hernández, Isaac Hernández
The movement seems propelled by the stark, syncopated electronic beat.
Group formations are marked by varied simple arm movements at thrilling
speeds. Two male figures emerge as dominant: powerful Principal Esteban
Hernandez as Prometheus and gifted new corps member Parker Garrison
as Epimetheus. They keep flying in and out of the mass of bodies, at times
joined by Wei Wang, with high leaps and coat-sailing turns. Projections of
smoldering lava surround the stage on all sides and appear overhead to
indicate the fire Prometheus steals to empower the mere mortals.
Homo Faber
The empowerment leads to even more frenetic synchronistic moves of the
group, evoking automaton-driven energies, set to the relentless roar and
pulse of the synthesizer. A striking video section alludes to the human
development of homo faber with flames twisting into sculptural hands
that seem to reach up and modeling space (challenging the gods?).
So far so very good.
Then Pandora arises out of the crowd. The mood shifts to long sequences
of quiet sounds, initially carried by harps, as Principal Jennifer Stahl brings
the first woman to the stage.
Pandora. Jennifer Stahl
Her intensely pale face without adornment looms like a strange moon in
the blackness. Choreographer Barton denies her the attributes the Greek
myth gave Pandora as the most beautiful, irresistible creature created by
the gods to deceive. Instead, Pandora appears like a new-born, intent on
self-creation (I couldn’t help thinking of Emma Stone as a “Frankenstein
-daughter” in the movie Poor Things). Dressed in a slick black bodysuit,
engaged in innocent, playful contortions, Pandora discovers each muscle
and joint of her body.
Foresight. Jennifer Stahl, Esteban Hernandez, Parker Garrison
The next long phase, her mating with Epimetheus, which Prometheus
(“Foresight”) tries in vain to prevent, is accompanied by a mix of
electronics and strings. The narrative begins to sag and flatten into a
predictable pas de deux. The lovers are dressed the same, but their couple
tangles leave no doubt about who dominates and who is the object. From
dark myth and futuristic AI promises we drop back into yesterday’s
modern dance conventions.
Lovers. Parker Garrison, Jennifer Stahl
Barton had talked about her desire to redeem Pandora from her role as
destroyer, but she gives the heroine nothing but playful feminine charm,
nothing to change the story. This is a crucial failure of imagination (or
courage) by the choreographer. A missed opportunity to “redeem” Pandora
and make her relevant for today by giving her agency, curiosity, and power.
Pandora’s Box
A colleague informed me that she noticed gestures of holding a square box
when the next part of the story set in, but I didn’t catch it. All of a sudden,
Pandora is alone onstage with a column of disturbing white light at the
back wall znd a “box”-like floor design. She stands still for a long time
while an explosion of videos fills the stage with thunderous skies, water an
ice in wild perturbance – a stunning panorama of atmospheric turbulence.
Nothing about it brings home the distress of “evil” -- whether of climate
catastrophes or AI takeovers of the world. We also don’t see the impact on
the group. Everything about Pandor’s box is left to the imagination of the
audience.
According to the Greek myth, when Pandora quickly tried to close the box,
the spirit of Hope remained trapped inside (another revenge of the jealous
gods), but of course, hope is something essentially human, a gift that can be
a blessing as much as a curse.
Hope returns. Wei Wang
Barton goes with the blessing. She ends her piece with Hope arising in a
golden bodysuit. Wei Wang dances the same bird-like, beautifully
undulating moves while the entire group rises up in matching golden
leotards. They are all in harmony, engaging in daisy chains and mellow
waves. Then, with a light-footed stride, they just walk out.
Hope springs eternal
I found myself smiling at this almost comically sweet vision, a parade of
Oscar clones, I thought, spit out by some AI printer to send us home happy.
If Barton’s intent was ironic she didn’t make it clear. This second half and
ending was a bit of a let-down, but Mere Mortals was still an impressive
debut for both Tamara Rojo and Aszure Barton – a rousing multimedia
event that was excitedly celebrated by everyone involved, especially the hip
young crowd of spectators from the SF tech, art and club worlds who came
in droves and went out in a visibly hopeful party-mood.
Photos: Chris Hardy
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