Men in Dance Goes from Raw to Refined, Rough to Rapturous

A brief editorial: Partly because of the moment, this eighth festival of "Against the Grain / Men in Dance" feels freighted with a particular import. At a time when viewers have watched (over 500,000 times) Dan and Terry tell gay teens that "It gets better," the frustrating impetus behind the existence of Men in Dance--that "society seldom looks kindly on men who dance"--is still very much with us.

To focus on bringing bullying to heel is long-awaited, necessary work, but to watch a Men in Dance program is to be reminded that life promises more than not feeling threatened. It can promise the recurrent delight at finding a safe space that cultivates growth, a creative joy and resulting artistic accomplishments.

Choreographer Jason Ohlberg (Photo: Colleen Dishy)

Fittingly for a men-only dance program, "Against the Grain" comes to feel like a capacious clubhouse, testosterone in the air, taunting and tripping in one corner, sidelong glances and soft touches in another, and questing solitude near a window.

Week 1 begins with Alia Swersky's "Small Spaces" an anarchic, improvisational claiming of space (in small quantities), with dancers tucking themselves under the stage, doing headers into seatback cushions, and otherwise upping the competitive ante, which is a tone it shares with "Cypher" by Barry Kerollis, a "jam session" of dance that features Josh Spell, Price Suddarth, and Ezra Thomson bringing their moves. But you can't skip over the tap spectacle of "15 to 20," with high schoolers (I think) Christopher Crosby, Jesse Katz, and Evan Pengra-Sult exhibiting just the kind of insouciant flash that makes an audience grin and feel giddy.

What drew me was the chance to see PNB's Peter Boal perform; he's the solo dancer in the premiere of Donald Byrd's "Carveresque." It's a short piece to a Prokofiev sonata for violin and piano, and Byrd turns it into a portrait of a man being danced by music. Boal is a study in nuance, in sneakers and jeans, and I wish I had more space and time to wax philosophic about the piece. It doesn't specifically refer to this, but it reminded me of how dance's presence in the body is resistant even to dementia.

I was also looking forward to seeing Olivier Wevers' excerpt from his triptych "Monster"--this one specifically in response to the bullying and harassment that young gay men don't always survive. Lucien Postlewaite and Andrew Bartee give Wevers' choreography a bracingly fluid, muscular drive. It opens with light and shadow and a one-hand-on-face, one-arm-pointing gesture that reminds me of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, a sign of how relationship is distorted and burdened by prejudice.

"Hillside" is a terrifically costumed and athletically themed work from David Lorence Schleiffers, that explores the butt-slapping camaraderie of a group of runners and the shy, hidden attraction of two members. The choreography is inventive, drawn from warm-up stretches at one moment, but featuring a youthful hopping the next that seems just as authentic. Wade Madsen's "Breath of Light" is a tender duet, exploring mirroring and liquidity, with the two dancers' gestures rippling across the surface of each other. "Me Over You," from Eva Stone, is droll, comic, and arch by turns.

Jason Ohlberg's "Ascent" is a lyrical work, but when you see him again in "Frattura" by Deborah Wolf, a work which has a sort of kung fu temple aesthetic, the dancers are alternately heavy-footed, stamping forward, and lithely kicking. It's a showcase for a springy muscularity, and for the men to take the spotlight as a sort of martial corps de ballet.