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San Diego Arts[BJM_Danse] at the Mandeville AuditoriumInjecting new life into ballet By Kris Eitland • Sat, Oct 17th, 2009Since its inception in the early 1970s, Les Ballet Jazz de Montreal has made a name for itself by presenting works grounded in jazzy ballet and spiked with contemporary elements. Now known as [bjm_danse], the company is directed by Louis Robitaille and continues to fuse a broad range of dance styles, eclectic music, text and video. The three polished dances that pushed the limits of the human body and sent dancers into cyberspace and a weird dreamy world on Thursday night at the Mandeville Auditorium were contemporary and full of surprises. [bjm_danse] is creating a new ballet aesthetic and isn't worried about being fully understood. The program opened with the delicious duet "Locked up Laura," by resident choreographer Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, a work created for [bjm] dancers Celine Cassone and James Gregg. (Ballet Hispanico also premiered the dance in Aug. at the Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival). Set to music by Bart Rijnink, the work is at once a contradiction when Cassone's lean floppy body shoots into stunning extensions en pointe. She is simultaneously soft and taut, and we are floored by her technique and edgy presence. As Gregg manipulates her body into odd positions and finally a skirt, we see her first as a doll or puppet then as a frustrated artist saddled with a predictable routine. In lifts, Cassone flops over Gregg's shoulder, but she resists. Ochoa's movement is a blur of crazed ballroom vignettes tied with a thread of classical ballet. It's easy to forget the work's complexity because the partnering is very smooth. The dance relishes the human body as a perfect machine, and we rejoice when Cassone removes her restrictive skirt and walks off stage. Ochoa's "Zip Zap Zoom," a world premiere, is an explosive dance set in the virtual world of video games. The primary fascination is how dancers morph into virtual characters, even non-human squiggles. Each level of the game brings new dance forms - hip-hop isolations, ballroom motifs, cabaret teases - and the dancers perform with sharp energy and strong personalities. It's all quite clever and often showy. In endless bursts, dancers respond to bold geometric graphics on video (Javier Velasquez). In a few sections, male dancers charge in straight lines like the Sharks and Jets in West Side Story. At times, it feels like an assault. A couple stands out in the section Zap's World for their tight swing dance variations as the man grabs his partner's leg and sends her into a spin on the floor. Also memorable are very high lifts that mirror graphics of planets on the back wall, and a hilarious sequence where the men interpret commands - unison, burping, jumping, wagging, waving - while interpreting a folk dance score. Sometimes the best ideas come to us in dreams. Aszure Barton's "Chambres des Jacques," is a weird otherworldly dance that seems to share her scattered unconscious thoughts without any editing rules. The raw expanse of the work is exhilarating, as it takes ballet structures and whirls them together with hints of Irish line dances ala Riverdance, low Russian kicks to the side, acrobatics, and anguished modern stares with mouths open wide, and plenty of humor. Set to a mixed score that includes Vivaldi and the Cracow Klezmer Band, Barton weaves silly and serious solos, duets and groups that contrast bizarre expressions of lust and love. It begins with a loose-limbed Gregg whipping into a back flip. A woman giggles uncontrollably. Men cross the stage holding their crotches, crawl after the women, and check them out by sniffing their torsos. Barton plays with distance to explore the status of relationships. Two couples alternate being close and separated. Repetitive behaviors, such as sneezing and gagging, tap into the flaws that we endure with our partners. The work is highly theatrical, and smart lighting by Daniel Ranger ties the many elements together. The work also allows the versatile and likeable company members to let loose with a rigorous vocabulary. But even with those brilliant performances, "Les Chambres" felt long on Thursday. It likely suffered by being placed last on this vivid program. Near the end, a woman seated next to me dozed off. I too began to drift, but even in a half-sleep I was engaged. It was a rare experience where it felt like I'd been inserted into a strange dream, and Barton's rich imagination. .
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