Sublime Simplicity In Morris `Foursome'.

MARK MORRIS DANCE GROUP BROOKLYN ACADEMY OF MUSIC BROOKLYN, NEW YORK FEBRUARY 27-MARCH 3, 2002

At the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Mark Morris gave New Yorkers a divine treat--Foursome, an aptly named quartet for two generations of dancers. The "senior" half was made up of longtime company member Guillermo Resto and Morris himself; their younger counterparts were Shawn Gannon and John Heginbotham; two wonderfully musical dancers capable of holding their own (even in the presence of the boss). But what could have resulted in an embarrassing exploration of new and old bodies, or worse, yet another dreary piece about gender, was a classic folk dance for four men in Morris's deceptive, unpretentious style. They dance, you watch, it's over. The catch is, you want to see it over again--immediately. Morris's finest dances leave you wanting more.

The quartet begins with the dancers--dressed in everyday clothes, but colorful so as not to be dull under stage lights--standing in a square formation along a slight diagonal. Accompanied on the piano by the company's music director, Ethan Iverson, playing Erik Satie's Gnossiennes for Piano (Nos. 1, 2, and 3) and Johann Nepomuk Hummel's Seven Hungarian Dances, they walk, run, and jump with effortless, pedestrian ease. While the framework of the movement is basic, the detailing in the gestures, as usual, is not. Morris's affinity for melding balletic steps with a relaxed foot or a simple turn of the head may be instantly beguiling, but it is his rigorous timing, paired with a specificity of seemingly carefree movement, that is most rewarding. Along with several quartets, each dancer performs a duet with the other three men--it's likely part of the task that Morris sets up for himself in the structure, but pleasure comes in the fact that none of the partner switching is obvious. Each musical selection is extremely short and each dance, accordingly, highlights a different mood or emotional entanglement. Rather than a series of short stories, however, Foursome feels like a compilation of poetry--alternatively tender and humorous, but always vivid.

Foursome captures that special place where casual movement is elevated to art without airs of grandeur. It's packed full of fleeting gestures, but there's a great deal of stillness marked by simple shifts of position-the toes rise, the heels pivot. At one point, the dancers bend at the waist, resting their palms on their knees as if watching a basketball game. But the final quartet is the most beautiful and memorable: As fluffy white clouds float onto the blue backdrop, the four performers face the audience and paint a graceful arc with both arms, which drop to their sides. Quickly, and in time with the music but not annoyingly so, they flick their wrists, open their legs to second position and bounce twice in plie. It's almost disconcerting that something so simple could be so gorgeous, but it makes sense. It's what the music called for.