Dance review: Risk and spontaneity in work of Bill Young/Colleen Thomas

New York troupe's non-narrative dances invoke street games, impending danger, battles of the sexes.

By Camille Lefevre, Special to the Star Tribune

Last update: September 16, 2007 - 9:04 AM

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BILL YOUNG/COLLEEN THOMAS & CO.

When: 2 p.m. today.

Where: Southern Theater, 1420 Washington Av. S., Mpls.

Tickets: $18. 612-340-1725.

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Whispery voice-overs. Near darkness shattered by blinding light. Kaleidoscopic partnering as dancers wheel and curve their arms, legs and torsos around each other. Movement beyond the stage and its environs, as dancers run in and out of doors, swing from harnesses, and climb up, lean against or push off the walls.

These are some of the qualities shared by the two non-narrative dances performed by Bill Young/Colleen Thomas & Co., this weekend. Another is the physicality that infuses the work of the New York company. Underpinned with an almost improvisational sense of risk and spontaneity, the movement is nonetheless seamlessly performed.

The choreography in Young and Thomas' "Rein, Bellow" has a creamy athleticism as the six dancers (including the choreographers) flex and flow with loose, understated momentum. Not content with merely dancing on the stage, or pushing and pulling each other, the dancers arch and swing backward in harnesses.

They bring in three tables -- breaking the arty somber mood with the everyday chatter and groans of moving furniture -- and the women (in white corseted dresses) slide over and under tables hoisted high by the men. Pedro Osorio and Joseph Poulson hook themselves to a contraption that turns them into marionettes operated by each other.

In their duet, Mei-Kuang Chen and Osorio yell in different languages as they bump, pull and push at each other: a portrait of physical connection but emotional dislocation. Slashes of red indicate a sense of danger that never materializes in this disjointed but comfortable world.

In contrast, Young's "For Want (A Circus)" has more angles, drive and desperation. Seven dancers in everyday clothes tussle with, grab at and run with each other around the stage. At times, the piece resembles a street game. Or a battle of the sexes.

Nothing new happens in these works, whether choreographically, dramatically, physically or emotionally. But the company performs with ease and insouciance, even at times a sense of pleasure, that gives the dances a freshness and appeal.

Camille LeFevre is a Twin Cities dance critic.