'Bowie: Inside/Outside'.

On the Boards Seattle, Washington May 8-11, 2003

It probably seemed like a great idea at the time: Twenty years after David Bowie sang "Let's Dance," commission an evening of new works by Seattle choreographers to music by the pop star. Bowie's chameleon like nature would offer a wide variety of possibilities to the artists, and the diverse nature of the group should guarantee a lively evening. But great ideas don't always become great dances, and in the case of On the Boards' "Bowie: Inside/Outside," the results were decidedly mixed.

Pat Graney is best known lately For her large, enigmatic dance-theater works, but she has a quirky sense of humor and a knack for the non sequitur. In a pair of short films made with Kim Root, Graney poked gentle fun at popular images of Bowie and the artificial nature of the commission. During a series of interviews with other performers (all wearing bright-orange fright wigs), SHE ASKED WHAT THEY KNEW ABOUT BOWIE, IF THEY THOUGHT THEY LOOKED LIKE HIM, IF THEY THOUGHT HE WAS STILL ALIVE. Their answers were intercut with photos of Bowie in a variety of guises (Pierrot, sphinx, dandy) and the result was equal parts silly and portentous.

Probably the most successful work in the program came from Wade Madsen, who has a deft hand with popular music. His superficial resemblance to Bowie was a cute gimmick when he narrated Space Oddity but became the point in his version of Fashion, where he turned the stage into a runway and his ensemble into an odd conglomeration of characters, all strutting down the diagonal. Between Saiko Kobayashi as a demented Cousin It and drag artist Macks Leger, Madsen and the elegant Alison Cockrill looked like imports from Weimar Germany snaking across the stage in matching menswear. Cockrill's deadpan stillness contrasted with Madsen's sinuous length as they lifted their faces to the stage lights like sunbathers.

Always Crashing in the Same Car, Crispin Spaeth's solo for Lila Hurwitz, was defined by a long green carpet stretching upstage from the curtain line and then extended from a projection of an endless road. The dance moving along this pathway had the same measured ongoingness as a long car trip, not rushing too fast or stopping too quickly.

Amii LeGendre and KF Niehoff's pair of duets for themselves, (Ever) lastingness and The Laughing Gnome, extended the freedom of contact improvisation into the exuberant personae of the rock star, playing power chords on air guitars.

Wishful Beginnings drew on choreographer Pablo Cornejo's background in South American modern dance but his weighted style seemed an odd fit with Bob Barazza's mix of Bowie's music.

Maureen Whiting got close to the fantastical aspect of Bowie in Unblinking Moonage Daydream on a Blue Planet with a trio of seaweedy, undulating characters in oversized costumes like Bread and Puppet Theater marionettes.

Peggy Piacenza's gently pixilated film of a young man in the country, Sage, was a peaceful view of a rural world but was a quixotic addition to the program, which, in its way, was the difficulty with the project as a whole. In a straightforward mixed-bill performance, we would lake each piece for what it was. Here, with the label of David Bowie plastered on the evening, we strained for connections that really weren't there.