KEITH TERRY/CROSSPULSE.

KEITH TERRY/CROSSPULSE THEATER ARTAUD SAN FRANCISCO, CA OCTOBER 13--24, 1999 REVIEWED BY RITA FELCIANO

Simple in spirit but sophisticated in execution, Crosspulse's Body Tjak/The Celebration was one of the San Francisco Bay Area's most genial fall presentations. Keith Terry, Crosspulse's renowned artistic director and a practitioner of what he calls body music--the percussive use of the body as a musical as well as a kinetic instrument--teamed again with Indonesian dancer/choreographer I Wayan Dibia. They took another stab at blending music and dance of the Americas with those of multifaceted Indonesia. Almost ten years ago the two artists had toured a similarly conceived piece called Body Tjak with a modicum of success. This new work, at a little over an hour, is at once more relaxed and more polished in its approach to cross-cultural collaboration.

The opening procession set the tone for this celebration of the family of man. As the performers ambled in, they casually removed their masks and hung them on a communal tree. Body Tjak then proceeded through its four sections--Celebration of the Ancestors, the Body, the Spirit, and the Community--with lovingly detailed vignettes in which musicians and dancers took turns sharing the spotlight. The emphasis was on choreography that embodied the music in simple, often unison designs--a serpentine walk of rolling feet, a sensuous passing of weight, rhythmic interaction with bamboo sticks, but also of elaborate canonic overlays of stepping, chanting, and clapping.

Not all of the choreography worked equally well. Some of it was just too simple-minded. Swaying dancers behind a musical number looked too much like back-up performers in a pop group. A shadowplay attempting to portray the life cycle with a baby being born and growing into a stooped old man seemed sentimental and somewhat clumsy.

The dancers included clogger Evie Ladin, who set the house afire in a duet with African drummer Tacuma King. Metrizal Bin Afrizal is a small-boned, extraordinary dancer and martial arts practitioner from Sumatra; his honey-flowing limbs would melt into the ground even as he prepared for fierce turning kicks. San Francisco's Robert Moses was lyrically explosive one moment and proved to be a self-effacing partner to both Western and Indonesian dancers in the next. Everyone was dressed in simple white pants and tops. It was particularly gratifying to see the Indonesians' liquid angularity unencumbered by their usual heavily encrusted costumes. Seen so naturally, Dewa Puto Bratha and Ida Ayu Arya Satyani's waist-long hair became just another expressive tool of these graceful yet powerful performers.

Toward the end Moses shone in a leaping, shaking, turning solo so fast that its outlines blurred. With his back to the audience, he appeared to perform for the musicians only. The gesture seemed entirely appropriate.