More shapes, more little laughs, some backward football scootches, and everyone plunks down cross-legged at the front of the stage. They chest bump, and then their partners arrive, playful and happy. Rousse’s dance is restless, but it ends well, and then three horse soldiers come prancing out, proud of the natty patterns their feet perform to a matching ditty. Put it another way: where other dancers execute, Rousse makes each step herself. My eyes follow the others, but when I watch her, I twitch. Rousse has a sort of complete dance that’s consistently surprising, because it indicates levels of artistry beyond what’s usually enough. Tiny, she fills up everything as she pulls space in around her or hurls it away. This is play.Ī sprite takes over the second movement: Sally Rousse. The men swing the women around in splits, sometimes flying them around quite acrobatically, but without a suggestion of manipulation. Ballet or unballet, everything is shape, and interesting. The angst we’ve learned to expect when ballet dancers switch in and out of ballet technique - ballet=exaltation or ballet=oppression - doesn’t happen. They launch into ballet shapes (arabesque) with naked, fist-pumping preparations, or suddenly flex feet and turn into mechanical people. Enter ballet dancers sauntering around stage to the first notes a Mendelssohn trio (played live, and so dimensional - an atmosphere you can move through). THE CURTAIN GOES UP ON JAMES SEWELL BALLET‘S FALL CONCERT.
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