Pilobolus is a phototropic zygomycete, a sun-loving fungus that grows in barnyards and pastures. It's a feisty little thing -- very short but it can throw its spores nearly eight feet. Right over a cow. It is also a highly unusual dance company, now in its 29th year or evolution.
Raging popcorn, angry mantras, swirling gyroscopes, such were the feisty, to put it mildly, images that surfaced in "Apoplexy" within minutes after the curtain rose. In all my years of theater-going, rarely have I been so inspired as I was by Pilobolus' performances which played at the Hop this past weekend. The shows were an enormous success, replete with gasps and oh's and frequent laughter from the audience.
Pilobolus was formed at Dartmouth College in 1971, and since then it has sprung to international heights. Today, the troupe consists of six dancers, each one possessing incredible depth and even more incredible talent. From frenzy, to sadness, to dreams, Rebecca Anderson, Otis Cook, Josie Coyoc, Matt Kent, Gaspard Louis and Benjamin Pring evoke a striking range of emotions within just one performance, with their sinewy yet athletic grace.
The program consisted of four very distinctive pieces, each one contributing an interesting dimension to its complex and intriguing whole. The first, "Apoplexy," choreographed by Robby Barnett, Michael Tracy and Jonathan Wolken and danced by the entire ensemble, was a wild torrent of urban angst. Dressed in street gear and shaded in a mixture of darkness and a burnt glow, the cast bounced off each other with frenzy.
The second piece, "Femme Noire," was an ironic and provocative solo. Danced to a medley of famous piano sonatas, Rebecca Anderson was a vixen with an enormous black hat and a stunning black evening gown. Even more than provocative, perhaps, Anderson was touching in her self-consciousness and her humor.
From siren to innocent: Anderson next played a beautiful little girl. Choreographed by Tracy, the third piece, "Sweet Dreams," featured an ethereal dreamscape of Southwestern rock formations gone surreal, a lighted window in the upper right-hand corner, an oblong moon and the exploration of wishes and love. Cook, Kent, and Pring played Anderson's cavaliers allowing her to pursue a child's desires of the moon and a kiss.
At times a comic revelry and at other times a stage set for sadness, the fourth piece, "Aeros," was the love-story of two beings from different planets. Choreographed by Alison Chase, Jonathon Wolken, Tracy and Barnett, and danced by the entire ensemble, the performance ended with a blast-off as a voyaging astronaut is whisked away by invisible strings at the piece's conclusion.
