American Ballroom Theater.

June 6-18, 1995 Reviewed by Marilyn Hunt

American Ballroom Theater's tenth-anniversary season is a good time to look back at the company's origins. Modeled on the supremely elegant Pierre Dulaine and Yvonne Marceau, who are still its artistic directors, it brought real ballroom dancing to the theater with a sense of authentic styles. The rapport of the individual couples, exhibited through the dancing itself, was evident in the very first season at Dance Theatre Workshop. The changes-of-pace were exactly that, showing that these matches made in heaven could let their hair down.

They understood, with Fred and Ginger, that ballroom dancing embodies romance as the synchronizing of two bodies in harmony. A basic enough concept, but one that the company has since overlaid with layers and layers of comical-tragical mugging, flashy costumes, self-congratulatory daredevil partnering, solo or unison forays--anything but really dancing together. The troupe seems to have stopped trusting ballroom dance.

Naturally, as the company has performed in larger theaters and grown in size, there is pressure on the dancers to "sell" themselves to the audience. But, especially in the absence of Dulaine and Marceau onstage, they are doing, in effect, failed musical comedy with too much generalized Broadway dancing and awkwardly realized stage business. The dancers show more energy than finesse, more flirtation with the audience than with their partners. The (recorded) music, one of the best parts of the evening, also gets rough treatment. Except for one title, no credits are given to composers or musicians.

In Geoffrey Holder's glitzy new Rodgers and Ella with Hart, Gaye Bowidas wanders about wringing her hands until she finds Gary Pierce. But instead of dancing together, after a few high lifts they emote about how thrilled they are. At one point, she lies on the floor and kicks her heels with glee. Her ballet training is put to poor use in sudden split arabesques; they have the same effect as thirties film dancer Harriet Hoctor's grotesque backbends on pointe.

Founding member Pierce's new Swingin, Blues was a folksy nod toward the tame white version of the lindy hop. It had an advantage in featuring the freest, classiest mover in the company, Lars Rosager, as the stiff novice dancer. Seeing him loosen up was predictable but fun, and indicative of an actual dance style. The company could use more such specifics of style.