HQ Review: Saint Louis Dance Theatre presents Norbert De La Cruz III’s world premiere “THE NORTH STAR”

There is a gnawing tension that aches within the body of Norbert De La Cruz III’s newest work “The North Star.”  De La Cruz’s previous work for Saint Louis Dance Theatre, “Cloud 9,” found the dancers of this company in an ethereal world, emulating utopia amongst the clouds of COCA’s Catherine B. Berges Theatre. While their gaze still reaches towards the heavens, in “The North Star” the dancers have fallen from the clouds, finding themselves among the debris of this earth. The sun is dimmer, the stakes are higher, yet this community of dancers continues to resonate amongst the residue of this newly inhabited world.  

The piece begins with a cast of dancers arranged in various sitting and standing positions, frozen in a sense of hallowed quandary. A pensive nostalgia ripples through their bodies even though they remain grounded in stillness. There is a simplicity in their presentation, dressed in plain fitting shades of brown and black. Yet this world we have been sunken into is far from simple. The opening music, “Remembrance” by Robbie Robertson, powerfully denotes this world as cinematic strings overlay the sultry twangs of electric guitars and muted trumpets. With the twang of a Western accompanied by the sensuality of jazz, this hybrid of musical styles enters us into a world marked by a bricolage of identity markers. A quality present in both the music and the choreography itself. Subtle gestures begin to take control of the dancers’ bodies as fingers vibrate and heads twitch and shudder. Even as these gestures lead dancers to embrace, there is a subtle unease evident within their physicality. There is something treacherous just beyond their gaze.

This subtlety soon unravels itself as waves of bodies envelop the stage. While limbs continue to extend upwards beyond their kinesphere, dancers also connect organically with the floor. They roll and slide across its surface, sometimes with a soft solemnity, but most often with the vigor of a vicious gust of wind. And though solos and duets begin to emerge from the fabric of the group, there is no clear leader of the rapturous energy that possesses these dancers. They whirl through collective expressions of ecstasy as hips undulate and jumps bound over bodies below. At times, these moments hint at clichés within contemporary dance, but they unwind themselves with such rapid succession in De La Cruz’s composition that these tropes still feel wholly exhilarating.

This tumultuous energy comes to a head as Nyna Moore approaches downstage center with a glimmer in her eyes. Jazz inflicted yearnings pulse from the theatre’s speakers as a speech, imbued with a zealous fire, overlays the music. Moore lip syncs and dances to these sounds with such fervency and exactitude that the words seem to crackle within her entire body, sparking small flames that travel between her and the other dancers. The audio that Moore lip syncs to, “All That Matters Is the Moments” by The Comet is Coming, is another captivating choice by De La Cruz, further utilizing auditory soundscapes that vibrate with complexity. Drums cascade, saxophones blare, and the spoken words proclaim “Babylon burned down, our time has come, our clock has run out.” Despite these apocalyptic premonitions, the dancers continue uninhibited by these remarks, taking up space with absolute fervor in their footsteps. Are they dancing out of celebration, fear, or perhaps hope? It is as though there is something sinister just beyond the walls of the theatre, yet inside these dancers’ souls is a beacon of fire that cannot be put out.

 
Moments like this fill much of the landscape of this work. Undercurrents of tension that contrast the vibrancy of the dancers’ presence, both in their own bodies and with each other. As a viewer, I felt myself sink deeply into the duality of this world, starting to feel that it was in fact my own. The way we decide each day to be present, feel the breath of another body, and continue on despite the chaotic nature of this world we find ourselves. At one point, the dancers travel the stage in two circular processionals, first gesturing to each other, and then gesturing out towards the audience as though they were inviting us to partake in their shared corporeal ecstasy. And it truly was a shared physical experience. I often found my own spine convulsing and retracting in response to the vibrations of energy that surged from the stage.

So what is this group of dancers’ “North Star?” That which propels them forward and gives them hope in spite of the encroaching darkness around them. In the final chapter of this saga, a group of dancers stand clumped together with their arms elongated towards the sky as their fingers flutter in gentle wonder. All the while Spencer Everett weaves between them, his body collapsing and expanding like a body of water in flux. After the labored drama of much of this work, the directness of this final moment held incredible potency. There was a curiosity amongst the darkness. Twinkling fingers that rise above. And perhaps it is in this collective resonance that they find their north star. The energy that circulates from one body to the next, empowering each other to firmly stand another day. In spite of whatever may be just beyond the walls of COCA’s Catherine B. Berges Theatre, for a brief moment, these dancers are steadfast in their togetherness. As if to say, “We are still here. See us. Our bodies exist for the good of our community. Do not look away.” Though this embattled world churns on, we still reach for the heavens, making a home in this cataclysmic world.