A Good Contact in Philly
Philadelphia, PA - A reproduction of the famously mischievous painting, "The Swing," by French artist Jean Honore Fragonard (1732-1806), is mounted on an easel at center stage in front of the curtain at the Forrest Theatre on Walnut St. You know the work: In a pastoral setting, a pretty girl in a billowy, 18th Century dress is captured high in mid-swing. She herself appears to be captivating a couple of swains below. The curtains part. Voila! Art imitates art. Performers and scenery meticulously duplicate the painting on stage. So begins Part I called "Swinging" of the multi-award-winning dance play, "Contact," by Susan Stroman and John Weidman.
A surly Servant has the task of pulling and positioning the long rope that guides the course of the swing. At stage right, an Aristocrat in the finery of the day makes loving overtures to the sweet thing on the swing every time she passes over him.
Ultimately, all three (Mindy Franzese Wild, Keith Kuehl, Dan Sutcliffe) are on the swing at once, engaging in lascivious pursuits, cavorting lustily, swinging precariously to and fro. Except for (and thank goodness for) the voluminous skirt, the energetic acrobats could be trapeze artists at the circus. Within the lush, musical accompaniment, some electronically enhanced harpsichord passages would be nice.
Opening to the strains of "Santa Lucia," Part II is entitled "Did You Move?" It involves a basically monosyllabic - mostly the 'F' word - brutish mobster, his timorous Wife and a handsome Headwaiter (Adam Dannheisser, Meg Howrey, Gary Franco). It is Buffet Night at the Cafe Vesuvius in Queens, N.Y., circa 1954. The 'manicotti' entree is a mite tiresome as a running gag. Add some 'lasagna' please.
In his continuous search for rolls, the boorish Husband makes frequent exits and entrances. As soon as he leaves, the Wife carries on wantonly with the Headwaiter and commences to flirt outrageously with every male in the place. The audience is meant to believe it's all in her head. Author Weidman writes with Noel Coward insouciance.
Entertaining characters come and go; many amusing pieces of business take place, like the switcheroo game of 'penny hocus-pocus' with three dish covers and a bread roll played to confuse the brute.
Entitled "Contact," Part III of this dance play is the lengthiest. Place: New York City. Time: The Present. The opening scene has ad executive Michael Wiley (Alan Campbell) receiving an award. His fifth in as many years. Compelled to give thanks, an obviously riled and harried Wiley looks as if he can hardly bear to embrace the unattractive statuette - a schlocky piece of tarnished brass.
At home at last, he is in his minimalist-style apartment high above the city. Celebratory phone calls abound. Invitations are numerous and varied. He
rejects them all. Wiley just wants to be left alone to commit suicide. But he is constantly interrupted by the woman in the apartment below. She can hear his every footstep. He needs a carpet.
Exasperated, he leaves and winds up in a low-down dance dive called 'Vinnie's' overseen by a Mephistolean Bartender (Adam Dannheisser). In a jungle of entwining limbs and seemingly without joy or mental involvement, couples execute supremely suggestive choreography. They seem constrained to dance as in "The Fantasticks," Luisa must dance for El Gallo to see a side of Hell. Or as in "Tales Of Hoffmann" Antonia must sing endlessly.
Amidst the non-stop gyrations, in struts a tall, elegant girl (Holly Cruikshank) in an eye-catching, yellow dress that follows every seductive movement of her alluring figure. Disdainfully, she nixes all invitations to dance. It is the hapless Wiley who interests her but he can't dance.
The segment with flashes of "West Side Story" and other stimulating embellishments is recapitulated several times until Wiley, who 'can't dance,' floats off with 'the Girl In The Yellow Dress.' Enraptured, they dance alla breve into a darkened void upstage center to the music of a jazz violin playing "Sweet Lorraine." It's lovely.
For my part, "Contact" could end here with perhaps a whispered revelation about the irate woman below Wiley's apartment.
But there's more. In the following scene,
Choreographer/Director Susan Stroman manages to hold a hushed audience spellbound and silent for a full minute. It appears that in spite of the foregoing, pleasant interlude, Wiley has hanged himself. It's significantly anticlimactic.
And then? Find out! Catch "Contact" when the well-oiled touring company comes to your area. You won't regret it.
The music includes practically every genre: ballads, blues, jazz, Latin and popular with lots of hard-driving rock primitivism. I enjoyed the electric guitar solos. You will hear many of your favorite classics, as well, from Luigi Boccherini to BedÍich Smetana. Sometimes just a few bars of a beloved piece come through, like the final phrase from the beautiful "O Mio Babino Caro."
As a dance play, "Contact" mixes many styles: swing, jitterbug, boogie, hip-hop plus modern and jazz dancing, all interpolated with classical ballet. Cruikshank, Howrey and Franco provide excellent elevations, assembles, jetes, arabesques, chaines and penches galore. And much more. The unerringly designed choreography is both risky and risquJ, but that's
Stroman's bread. •