Malpaso Dance Company
The Joyce Theater
New York, New York
January 25, 2025
Ara, Retrato de Familia (Family Portrait), Vertigo, Indomitable Waltz
Jerry Hochman
Malpaso Dance Company returned to The Joyce Theater last week for its annual week-long residency, bringing with it four dances, three of which were U.S. premieres.
Since 2018 I’ve seen four such programs by this Cuban contemporary dance company; this one was one of its better offerings. While nothing here knocked my socks off as several of the dances in the 2019 program did, the three U.S. premieres, each recently choreographed, were reasonably limited in scope and accessible, with imagery that at times was indelible. The only one that wasn’t was the program’s final dance, which I’d previously seen.
All four pieces were delivered with exuberance and precision by its impressive current crop of dancers. For a small company (Malpaso – or at least the touring group assembled for this Joyce engagement – consists of twelve dancers, inclusive of its Artistic Director and Associate Artistic Director), it looks surprisingly eclectic.
Malpaso, which means, among other things, “misstep” in Spanish, suffered no missteps in its program here. My disappointment with the dance’s final piece, Indomitable Waltz, was a combination of having it re-presented and choreography (by Aszure Barton) that went nowhere – or at least nowhere clearly discernible. But the three new dances were generally of high caliber, and while there was nothing groundbreaking about any of them, they were at least interesting. And they share a common quality of focus limitation. That is, even though they may casually address universal truths, the emphasis isn’t on that; the visual focus is far more narrow.
Grettel Morejón and Osnel Delgado in “Ara”
Photo by Steven Pisano
An example was the opening dance, Ara. Choreographed by company co-founder Osnel Delgado, the pas de deux was performed by him and either Iliana Soulis or Grettel Morejón, who alternated in the role. Each performed passionately and intelligently, converting what, at bottom, is just another “relationship dance” into something more. [It’s unfortunate that no announcement was made as to which alternate dancer was performing in the pertinent role that evening. There weren’t that many of them – one alternating pair in three of the four dances; it would have taken, maybe, 15 seconds. But as a consequence I can’t be certain which dancer portrayed the female character in the performance I attended last Saturday evening, I initially thought I was seeing Soulis, because the program’s photograph of her looked like the dancer I saw on stage in this role. But the photographs of the opening night cast that are included here identify Morejón in that role, looking far more like the dancer I saw than did her program photo. So, since I won’t guess, I’ll reference both of them.]
The piece begins simply, with Delgado wrapping his arms around Soulis or Morejón. Most of their action is limited to upstage audience-right. Soon thereafter, Soulis/Morejón separates from him, moves downstage center, and acts as if she’s cradling a baby. In context, it’s apparent that she sees a child in the couple’s future. Delgado, however, will hear none of that – literally. He drowns out the “sound” of his partner’s future dream by covering his ears.
Grettel Morejón and Osnel Delgado in “Ara”
Photo by Steven Pisano
Despite this dissonance, the pas de deux continues, in the process displaying that they both care deeply for each other, and don’t want to end the relationship. Eventually, the woman again separates from Delgado, again moves downstage center, and mimes stroking a plant that only she can see. She reaches to take something from it, Delgado joins her, She holds this valuable invisible “something” carefully, then drops it into the now willing and accepting Delgado. He may not be yet ready to think about children, but the seed will be planted, and the relationship that may lead to that will grow.
That all this was transmitted clearly by Soulis/Morejón and Delgado is a tribute to their skills as dancer/actors. I knew exactly what was happening. But, in the absence of program notes and to be sure there wasn’t some obvious intention to the contrary I checked how the word “ara” translates from Spanish into English. One meaning is “altar.” That didn’t help. But another meaning is “plow” as in to sow seeds That did.
Ara was enhanced significantly by the score, composed by Aldo López-Gavilán, who also performed the piece on piano, accompanied by Ilmar Gavilán on violin. The two are brothers, each, independently, has significant educational and performance pedigrees, and each is famous and renowned within the music world and beyond:. López-Gavilán’s score, and the brothers’ live rendition of it, gave breath, and breadth, to Delgado’s astute choreography and provided even more intensity for the stage couple to absorb.
The program’s second piece, Retrato de Familia (Family Portrait) was choreographed by Esteban Aguilar, who also dances with the company (though not in this piece). [The translation of the Spanish to English is specified in the title, but I don’t know whether it’s considered part of the title.] It was performed by six members of the company.
(front to back) Jennifer Suárez Ramos, Esven González,
and Carlos Daniel Valladares
in Esteban Aguilar’s “Retrato de Familia”
Photo by Steven Pisano
Created (like Ara) in 2024, the dance is a curious set of vignettes presumably representing “family portraits” at various stages of interrelationships, culminating in a group portrait. That sounds deadly dull, but it isn’t. Aguilar has managed to make each of these vignettes visually interesting, as well as providing snippets of social commentary. Indeed, although there are only six dancers who generally perform in varying subsets of the whole until the final portrait, in a sense the family portrait is not of one family, but of the human family. The piece’s dancers were Liz Marian Lorenzo (alternating with Daileidys Carrazana), Laura Guerra Rodriguez, Jennifer Suarez Ramos, Esven Gonzalez, Carlos Daniel Valladares, and Dayron Dominguez.
As with the opening dance, Retrato de Familia was enhanced by its score, composed by Asaf Avidan and performed live by the Alma String Quartet (consisting of Liliet Silva Carmenates and Camila Crespo Ramirez on violins, Yosmara Castaneda Valdez on viola, and Amaya Justiz Robert on bass), and with López-Gavilán again on piano. Both the composition and the musical performance were top-notch, and the fact that the quartet appeared audience-right and López-Gavilán audience-left opened up the music to being the chamber equivalent of an orchestra. I can’t understate the importance of this live music to the overall presentation of this and the program’s other dances.
Laura Guerra Rodrigeuz
and Esven González
in Esteban Aguilar’s “Retrato de Familia”
Photo by Steven Pisano
Retrato de Familia is also enhanced by the targeted lighting, designed by Guido Gali and executed by the company’s Lighting Supervisor Manuel Da Silva (who supervised the lighting for each dance). Indeed, the piece opens with two of pairs of dancers illuminated by individual overhead spotlights, while another pair traverses the stage, downstage audience-left to audience-right, one female dancer carrying another dancer on her back.
The gender pairings of the initial three couples (M/M, M/F, and F/F – or some permutation thereof) may have some significance, but, other than being a nod to political correctness, this wasn’t followed through. Rather, after this opening the dance focused on vignettes that illustrate different families or family relationships (a particularly imaginative one has five dancers crossing the stage at a relatively fast pace, while, as this progresses, one or more raise their heads and then retreat back into the fold like alternating jacks-in-a-box. Whether this has significance isn’t clear, but in the context of a “family portrait” it’s interestingly conceived and executed. Indeed, Retrato de Familia is chock full of interesting imagery that visualize “portraits” of relationships.
I’m puzzled by the final portrait, where one dancer, Dominguez, falls (or is pushed) out of the group. It may be a commentary on his character’s sexual orientation, although I didn’t see sufficient indicia of that, or simply that he was the “black sheep” of the family, or just to make the final portrait look more interesting. Regardless, this had no impact on the success of the piece as a whole.
The third dance in this pre-intermission triumvirate of new choreography was Vertigo, a 2023 piece choreographed by Susana Pous to unspecified music by Romanian composer Alexander Balanescu and Serbian composer Boris Kovac. And again, the piece was accompanied live by the Alma String Quartet – although I think I heard complementary orchestral music being piped in to supplement the live performance.
I’d not previously heard of Pous but her biography as presented in the program notes indicates considerable dance and choreographic experience. Born in Barcelona, she studied there before continuing her education at New York’s Martha Graham School and Danspace Project. Thereafter she relocated to Havana, where she was a “key figure” for 18 years with DanzAbierta, eventually becoming its director. In 2018, she founded her own company, and since then has presented her choreography around the world.
Her choreographic ability is on full display in Vertigo.
(l-r) Esven González, Carlos Daniel Valladares, Greta Yero Ortiz,
and Daileidys Carrazana in Susana Pous’s “Vertigo”
Photo by Steven Pisano
Before I get to that, however, I must mention the score, which here served what appears to have been a dual function. Before the dance begins, the Quartet played music that I thought was something of an Intermezzo to allow sufficient time for the dancers in the previous piece to change costumes. But after this minutes-long interlude the music segued neatly into the dance itself without pause, with the piece’s “lead” dancer walking somewhat tentatively across the front of the orchestra seating area before stepping onto the stage to be joined by the other dancers. The intelligence of this presentation was followed through in the dance itself.
Vertigo’s “theme,” to the extent there is one, is vertigo, although I suspect vertigo, or the absence of it, may be considered a visual metaphor for how one perceives a dizzying world, and/or for connecting, or not, in relationships or to society in general. But looking for more specificity than generalized metaphoric references would diminish the quality of the dance – there aren’t direct connections, but in this dance there needn’t be.
(l-r) Liz Marian Lorenzo, Esven González, Daileidys Carrazana,
Esteban Aguilar, and Carlos Daniel Valladares
in Susana Pous’s “Vertigo”
Photo by Steven Pisano
During the course of the dance Carrazana, that lead dancer (who is one of the company’s co-Founders as well as its Associate Artistic) is visibly dizzy even before being tossed and twirled by other dancers as the piece progresses. Soon the other dancers are swirled and as well – but without showing similar symptoms. Does this have any significance? If there is any beyond the suggestion mentioned above, it’s not clear, but the absence of clear direction here is secondary to the complex choreographic imagery. As with the other new dances, Vertigo holds together well because of the visual interest the imagery provide as well as the competence of the piece’s six dancers: Carrazana, Lorenzo. Greta Yero Ortiz, Gonzalez, Valladares, and Aguilar.
As noted above, the evening concluded with the only dance that was not “new” choreography: Indomitable Waltz, choreographed in 2016 by Aszure Barton, and which I’d previously seen in Malpaso’s 2018 program. My opinion of the dance hasn’t changed since my initial evaluation.
The problem with the piece, despite its arresting choreography and energetic execution, is that it’s understated, and its message (which I hypothesized following that first exposure to it as attempting to portray the “indomitable human spirit,” although I didn’t see that this time around) is – almost – lost in the overall style.
Malpaso Dance Company
in Aszure Barton’s “Indomitable Waltz”
Photo by Judy Ondrey
To the extent there’s any focus in Indomitable Waltz (and I’m not sure there is) it’s too nebulous to describe. At this performance it came across simply as movement to music – nothing more, and nothing less. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but here the movement doesn’t enhance or visualize the music (curated by Barton, including two pieces by Balanescu, and one each by Michael Nyman, and Nils Frahm). Live music was again provided by the Alma String Quartet and López-Gavilán on piano. This isn’t a contemporary dance equivalent of “seeing the music” a la Balanchine.
It does, however, create a mood – somewhat sterile, certainly somewhat bleak (with its black costumes of varying sizes and shapes), while at the same time being somewhat oblivious to that mood. The dance’s ending, when one (Rodriguez, I think) solos to choreography that appears to wrap the piece up in something resembling anomie, or at least some generalized discontent, is the closest the dance comes to communicating something meaningful, but that doesn’t save what happened during all the other dance images. Overall, it’s too much something about something.
The dance starts out well enough. To the haunting, beautiful, and quirky “Waltz” by Balanescu (to my recollection, part of the score for the celebrated 1995 film “Angels and Insects”), one man emerges from upstage center, followed by two women in similar but not quite identical black outfits, followed by another, then another, all against what appears to be a starry sky. Fine. Eventually, the eight dancers break up primarily into pairs, reunite in whole or in part, break up again into another highlighted pair, etc. And many of them move from one sequence to another like human slinkys coated in molasses, and then, except for an occasional brief “connection,” move on. The “slinky” movement comes and goes, as does any point to it beyond being the movement quality du jour.
Malpaso Dance Company
in Aszure Barton’s “Indomitable Waltz”
Photo by Judy Ondrey
Although this pairing wasn’t the dance’s focal point (there wasn’t one), I found myself focusing on the frequent Mutt and Jeff pairing of Valladares and Yero: he being the company’s tallest dancer, she being the shortest, just to watch the two visually interact (there was little emotional interaction in any of the pairings, including this one). She comes across light as a feather, and he seemingly could have tossed her to the rafters at will. It might have looked comical were it not executed so well by both. But my recollection of this pairing has a negative side also – I remember it, but for the wrong reason; however well-executed the other component parts may have been, I can recall none of them. In addition to Rodriguez, Yero, and Valladares, the piece’s other dancers were Carrazana, Lorenzo (alternating with Soulis), Gonzalez, Aguilar, and Dominguez.
I recognize that some may consider it hypocritical to fault Indomitable Waltz for not having a clear intent, and then to ignore the absence of a clear intent in the other dances on the program. The explanation is that the new dances, as I indicated above, are focused and limited; and the absence of a certain meaning (with the exception of Ara, which has one) to a large extent is irrelevant. I can’t say the same for Indomitable Waltz.
One final comment about the company’s dancers. While Malpaso’s artistic direction is firmly on the side of contemporary dance (however one chooses to define that), not ballet, it’s apparent that ballet training is a component of many of its dancers’ backgrounds. Indeed, Morejón was a Principal dancer with Ballet Nacional de Cuba (Alicia Alonso’s company). Yero was also a member of that highly-respected ballet company until she joined Malpaso in 2022, and Lorenzo, who also joined Malpaso in 2022, “works in the repertory” of that same company. Together with Malpaso’s other dancers, it’s a highly talented and well-trained group.
This program, overall, was a portrait of a company continuing to evolve and grow; it was the best I’ve seen from Malpaso in many years. I look forward to that direction continuing in its next Joyce appearance.
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