Batsheva Dance Company
The explosive choreography Israeli dance maker Ohad Naharin structures for his pieces emanates from a technique called “Gaga” that he has developed and owns. The style is a valid vocabulary, like that of Martha Graham or Merce Cunningham, including organic steps and phrases that work to create wonders for him and the Batsheva Dance Company who perform them with vigor and commitment.
“Max,” Naharin’s new production, performed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music as part of their spring season, filled the house for every one of its five performances. Why Naharin does not stay longer is a mystery. It seems sad to bring all those dancers and mount his luminous, eye-opening work for only those dancegoers who stay current with New York events and buy tickets right away.
When “Max” begins, the 10 dancers are spread across the stage. Dressed by Rakefet Levy in strap tees and cut-off pants, they show off their taut, solid frames. Because Levy knows it is the body that is important in “Gaga,” she has these eager performers in simple street attire. Watching the muscles flex and extend in unhampered positions and seeing how the dancers connect to each other is part of “Gaga.” Even the grand pliÈ in first position (we can all do that) becomes a startling movement invention for Naharin.
The men and women seem to feed into each other: as one pliÈs the other stands, then vice versa. They drop to one knee giving the audience a profile view of their rod-like backs. Flexed feet do not preclude the execution of beautifully lifted arabesques. Make no mistake, “Gaga” is built on the straight spine and lifted torso of ballet. Though the dancers do not look classically trained, they are most assuredly strongly schooled in ballet to enable them to move from staccato to adagio with ease. Blackouts figure prominently in the piece, which is only a bit over an hour long, and build suspense for the audience. Adding to that suspense was an untended shopping bag in the orchestra that was lifted by hefty security guards while the dancers continued unaware. Seems an apt metaphor for life in Israel; the rockets drop, but life goes on regardless. Naharin probably knew nothing about the disturbance; then again, maybe he knew only too well coming from a long, cross-country tour just after the war.
The last section of “Max” was the most compelling as the dancers moved to what sounded like counting; not simple 1-2-3, but in a language difficult to determine. This was because it is no language, rather another delightful invention of Naharin used as accompaniment. Eyes are glued to the gifted performers shouting the droning, gibberish counting sounds that resound loudly through the theater.
“Max” is representative of Naharin’s work: defiant, abstract, rousing, humorous and inventive. He has become a magical name in the dance world, sending his dancers out to spread the word of “Gaga,” and to thrill audiences with his repertory.