HQ Review: Leverage Dance Theater presents “Refractions of Being”
Beneath the hallowed sanctuary of Hope United Church of Christ, the audience of Leverage’s concert “Refractions of Being” finds themselves. Illuminated by the sterile white lights of the church’s basement, Leverage’s fourth concert in their series “Spiritual Architecture & Sacred Spaces” began. The unconventional use of space that Leverage is well known for is immediately made evident as the audience is corralled into a corner facing a rectangular hole in the wall that looks into the church’s cafeteria space. There is a stark informality to being shepherded into such a space to watch dance. Though the program speaks of inviting people “to participate in an experience of shared spiritual intention,” it feels discordant to begin the concert in a space that is charged with such mundanity. However, there is spirituality even in the commonplace, and the mundane will soon bubble with vibrancy as the dancers of Leverage enter the space.
“Spaghetti Dinner” a trio choreographed by Paige Van Nest commences the concert with a campy charisma. Halama, poised inside the frame of the cafeteria window, reenacts the process of cooking in a messy and playful manner. She mixes a bowl, spills ingredients on the table, and bounces and sways through her confined kitchen space. Meanwhile, Jessica Voirin positions herself on the countertop outside of the window and tosses plastic cups at Halama, clearly not wanting to participate in Halama’s insistence that they cook a “Spaghetti Dinner.” As these antics progress, Ali Hay joins Voirin in taunting Halama and distracting her efforts to cook a meal. They try to initiate a mini dance party while Halama persists in her domestic efforts to put a meal on the table. Although Leverage brands themselves as “dance theater,” this piece exaggerates the theatrical elements of their work, adlibbing interactions and using gestures to move the story forward in a trope like manner. The piece ends with Voirin and Hay running to the other side of the basement in a game of tag while Halama belligerently directs the audience to follow them to the other side of the basement to view the next piece.
“Float This Way,” choreographed by Halama herself, continues this manner of play that the first piece started. Four other dancers join Ali Hay as they start to play on the toys and mini trampolines intended for the kids of this church congregation. Though the program notes that abstraction is a key element to Leverage’s work, there is a literalism at work in these first two pieces, albeit in a very overt and performative manner. Paige Van Nest glides across the floor on a scooter with her back leg curved into an attitude position while Elyzah Gasmen bounces into the space with a genuine joy that exudes from her face and out through her limbs. Sporting a baggy green M&M T-Shirt and a bright yellow bucket hat, she appears to be the leader of this ‘kids’ group, both in her frontal positioning, and in her ability to capture a level of playfulness that contrasts the others’ more contrived excitement. Gasmen bounds through the space with whimsical balletic flourishes before pulling on a contraption that releases a bunch of balloons from the ceiling. The piece feels geared towards those of a younger age, but is also a reminder of the youthfulness and sprightly energy that we all were once imbued with.
After the conclusion of “Float This Way,” the audience is led upstairs and positioned in a hallway just outside of the main sanctuary. The space somehow feels even tighter than the basement below as four dancers stand a few feet from the audience. As the metronomic pulse of club music begins to vibrate the space, the dancers’ bodies enter an entirely new atmosphere as the cartoonish antics of the previous piece slip away, and the audience is submerged into a space of rhythmic maturation. “Dropped,” choreographed by Paige Van Nest, attempts to replicate the chaotic buzz of a late night out, but retains a much more sanitized choreography. The dancers keep a distance between themselves and propel their torsos through space in a coordinated manner that is affecting to watch, but less evocative of the electric buoyancy that the music evokes. This contrasting dynamic fostered a level of restraint in the work’s representation that the previous works neglected.
After much variance in texture and mood, the audience is brought into the main sanctuary of Hope United and placed to sit at the front of the sanctuary, looking back towards the pews. A brief intermission was well placed here to give the audience time to soak in the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the sanctuary. Especially after being stuck inside the basement and narrow corridors for the first half of the concert, entering the sanctuary finally gave the audience room to breathe and melt into the grandeur of this sacred space. And this sense of breath harmoniously continues into the dancing itself. Though this second half consists of four different works, each choreographed by a different individual, the collective flow of these pieces began to feel like a cohesive work in of itself.
While campy theatrics were employed pre-intermission, this second half immediately brought in a more subdued nature to its theatricality. “Let Go” by Nicole Halama found ways to theatricalize conflict while still capturing a more subtle composure within the dancers’ facial expressions. “Witness,” a solo choreographed and performed by R. Vance Baldwin, captured a level of reverential longing that furthered the evocative nature of the sanctuary. “Agua” a larger group work composed by Diana Lia Barios & Company, embodied the patient push and pull of water against a shoreline. And “Finale,” composed by Keli Hermes & Company, fostered a celestial like spirit as previous elements of the concert combusted, then reignited with sparks of hope and destruction.
As each piece passed into the other, it became difficult to fully split them apart. But this was not a detractor, it actually aided the collective power that each dance harnessed. The reverential ambiance of the sanctuary carried tremendous weight, and it imbued each of these works with new meaning. In “Let Go,” the dancers grab each other’s wrists, pull away, and then stand defiantly upon the church’s pews. Was this merely a personal conflict we are witnessing, or is there a more theological debate present in their relationships? In “Witness,” as Baldwin elongates his limbs across the pews of the church’s balcony with restrained distress, his yearnings become charged with existentialism. Moments like this continue throughout this portion of the concert, and feel most strongly tied to the intention behind Leverage’s concert series: “Spiritual Architecture & Sacred Space.” To explore “the feelings, experiences, needs and desires that infuse sacred spaces and traditions.”
In “Finale,” the final piece of the night, nine dancers fill the richness of the sanctuary with an effervescent energy. Legs extend away from their torsos as they use the pews as support, rolling across them, pressing up against them, and adroitly moving from one pew to the next. Their bodies become deeply entwined in the architecture of Hope United. As energy ricochets through space and climatically builds, they gather in a line marching towards the audience, stepping over the back of each pew and onto the next row of seats. Legs moving succinctly and with fervor, there is a fire in their eyes and within their footsteps. Are they marching for something or against all that holds them back? Before their mighty steps can fully resolve, they abruptly sit down. Yet Baldwin suddenly stands back to his feet, his arms trembling with uncertainty as the lights go out, their bodies vanish, and the richness of their quandaries wash over the audience like that of a comet through space.