Martha Graham Dance Company.

The Joyce Theater New York, New York January 21-February 2, 2003

Her legs were short. Her hands and feet were gnarled even when she was quite young. Her face, with its high cheekbones and mouth usually ajar, had an Asian cast. Martha Graham was the most arresting dancer that America has produced. And as a choreographer, she was fearless and constantly new.

Graham died in 1991. What would happen to that pioneering repertoire and to the company itself? A court battle ensued between her chosen successor, Ron Protas, and the company's board of directors, which won the case. The Joyce Theater audience expressed new hope during the company's recent season--THE HOUSES WERE FULL, THE "BRAVI" AND STAMPING FEET EMPHATIC.

Terese Capucilli and Christine Dakin, who distinguished themselves under Graham's aegis, are now the company's artistic directors: Dakin is Apollonian and Capucilli is Dionysian--both aspects of Graham herself. One of Graham's most artistic choices was her use of choral movement. Wisely, in the brief rehearsal time allotted to them before this season began, Capucilli, Dakin, and their assistants developed a chorus that performed with maenadic power and unity. When the war-wracked women in Graham's Chronicle took off from the ground, the stage became a cauldron. And when, in Night Journey, Chorus Leader Alessandra Prosperi crouched against an upstage rock, she had the stillness of a gargoyle as she watched Oedipus and Jocasta sow their doom.

Graham was concerned with theatrical balance between corps and soloists, performers and the space around them. This balance was thrown off when designers other than Isamu Noguchi handled the decor, when couturiers like Halston took over Graham's own costuming tasks, especially for the men, and when the dramatic instincts of the soloists were overshadowed by their concern for virtuosity. A few meaningful soloists have recently been developed, but the conscientious still outweigh the courageous.

Among the most interesting interpreters were Fang Yi Sheu and Miki Orihara in Chronicle. Each, with her own brand of intensity, stood up to the twelve-member chorus, sometimes using it as a phalanx, at other times flowing through its groupings like an angry river. In Diversion of Angels, Sheu was given perhaps the most demanding role, that of the Woman in Red. Her drumbeat contractions, as she slashed across the stage with her torso atilt over one leg, had the look of mind-free ecstasy, while Prosperi, as the Woman in Yellow, radiated the joy unbound of a sunbeam. Orihara's role in Errand Into the Maze, Prosperi's in Deep Song, and Katherine Crockett's in Lamentation were all masterfully interpreted.

In Dark Meadow, Crockett's resolute gait as She of the Ground recalled May O'Donnell, who originated this Ceres-like figure. As Crockett traced her path among Noguchi's iconic set pieces, she brought a serene presence to this ritual of the turning seasons and the shades of love. As One Who Seeks in the same work, Orihara had a frenetic beauty, while Dakin, in the same role, had an aura of sadness.

Martin Lofsnes, as He Who Summons, emphasized the current problem among the company's male dancers: They're vigorous; they're strong; but most lack individuality. As they strut and slap their thighs, their eyes tell us nothing. Dancers such as Gary Galbraith, Christophe Jeannot, and David Zurak still need to fight for their "inner light." Only Kenneth Topping and Tadej Brdnik seem to have something of their own to impart. Topping has substance, and Brdnik has range. From the frightened Hippolytus of Phaedra to the roughedged Adam in Embattled Garden, he has explored not only the effect of each character but its source.

Aaron Sherber was the conductor for the first week of this brief season. He and his excellent instrumentalists brought authority, yes, balance. Lack of funds meant the use of tapes for the second week. Care was also lavished on the stage picture: Beverly Emmons adapted the original lighting of Jean Rosenthal, and costumer Russell Vogler and his staff restored the dancers' attire to an earlier dignity and freshness.

Although the path to Graham's sixty-odd years of incomparable dance repertoire has at last been reopened, much more work lies ahead. More major works need revival, and as they are burnished into activity, soloists must be found to interpret them fully. Eventually, too, the sticky question must be addressed: Where will new repertoire come from? After all, Graham, like all great artists, was preoccupied with moving on.