DanceAfrica '97, BAM Opera House, May 23-25, 1997.

DanceAfrica began almost by accident when choreographer Chuck Davis was invited, in 1977, to bring his company to the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Davis invited other groups that shared his interest in African dance traditions to join him -- and a festival was born, growing to become the country's largest annual showing of African American dance.

To celebrate its twentieth anniversary, DanceAfrica presented twenty festival alumni over a long weekend that featured music, foods, crafts (in the adjacent BAM parking lot), processions, and gorgeously clothed audience members in addition to five thematically titled performances: "The African Connection," "Africa Speaks: America Answers," "Recovering Our Legacy," "The African Diaspora," and "Africa's Cultural Diversity."

I saw the last of these. Although the five featured companies were all splendid, they were in some sense subordinate to a larger framework set in motion the moment Davis strode onstage, in magnificent long-robed attire, and explained the importance of love and respect to a delighted audience. This was followed by one procession of white-clad candle bearers during a roll call of names of the dead, then another of a Council of Elders who sit just in front of the stage at each performance (and swish feathery batons at favored dancers), and finally by a further oration (and little dance) from Davis. DanceAfrica had established its theatrical credentials and won over its audience well before the first group of performers emerged.

When they did, the Brooklyn-based Moving with the Spirit kept adrenaline high, with large groups of dancers moving in synchronized formations to the complex drum rhythms of four onstage musicians. The DJoule African troupe offered a more stylized West African dance, with drummers in elaborate pink-fringed costumes and a notable star turn by three small boys who performed an astoundingly fast dance of flailing arms and legs.

As with many of the groups that I saw at South Africa's Dance Umbrella [see Reviews/International, August 1996, page 83], children and adults featured equally in both of these troupes, subtly demonstrating how social roles can be learned and practiced.

The four talented members of Women of the Calabash rested both eye and ear in their vocal and percussive demonstration of the evolution of the "clave" rhythm. Bokandeye African American Dance Theatre, from Yonkers, combined traditional West African dances to form a seemingly improvisational but cleverly choreographed, collage of individual and ensemble sections. Wearing vivid purple and orange costumes, the dancers including two adorable little girls) each had a solo turn with a drummer, before transiting seamlessly back to the ensemble. (These solos prompted much flinging of money onto the stage by audience members -- a rather appealing convention.)

The evening's final group, Rennie Harris PureMovement from Philadelphia, was apparently the sensation of last year's DanceAfrica. It's easy to see why. Just the opening of One Love has enough anticipatory tension to set up a major rock concert: To compelling drumbeats, eight muscular, bare-chested dancers walk slowly on to the stage, and line up, staring grimly ahead. An Elder comes on and dances before them; the music changes to slowly thumping rock; the dancers prolong the tension of utter stillness for longer than seems possible, then crouch and remain still for longer than seems possible -- before finally breaking into a cathartic display of ferocious athleticism and precision.

Twisting jumped karate kicks performed with lithe grace; bodies that appear to levitate parallel to the floor; kneeling jumps while the upper body lies back; dancing in headstands; push-ups to standing position, then rebounding back; other things that don't have names. It's hard to know if PureMovement could diversify or enlarge this vocabulary enough to sustain a full evening's performance, but this might not be important. The work shows virtuosity in its best light, embodying courage, imagination and possibility, without an ounce of glibness or condescension.

After a final lineup of performers, Davis instructed us to hug our neighbors. Everyone complied happily.