I’ll never forget the first time I saw Kyle Abraham’s The Runaway. I didn’t know what to expect, but was absolutely enchanted. Here was a choreographer with a unique voice and an obviously first-rate mind. Ever since The Runaway, I have enthusiastically followed Abraham’s career choreographing for companies like New York City Ballet, American Ballet Theatre and Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.
Yet until the other night, I had never seen Abraham’s own company A.I.M. Therefore, seeing them in person at the Joyce was one of my most eager assignments. They are fantastic dancers: strong, expressive, charismatic. They grab your attention immediately and never let go. I was particularly enthralled by Jamaal Bowman, who was majestic and commanding.
Yet the program was mixed. The best dance was (unsurprisingly) Abraham’s own work. 2x4 was a genuinely imaginative work where the four dancers respond to two jazz saxophonists onstage (thus the name). It’s like Balanchine’s Duo Concertant, a direct dialogue between the musicians and the dancers. But unlike Balanchine’s austere black and white aesthetic, 2x4 had colorful costumes by Reid Bartelme and Harriet Jung.
Abraham’s dance vocabulary matches the music: there are jazzy swishes, hip-hop-like gyrations, an overall playful vibe. The saxophonists play, the dancers respond in dance. Despite there only being four dancers on stage, there’s a sense of warmth and community in the piece. What’s more, there is genuine musicality. You can “see the music” in a way that isn’t always apparent in so many modern dance pieces.
The evening opened with Rena Butler’s Shell of a Shell of the Shell. As you might have gleaned from the title, this is a rather pretentious piece. Six dancers seem to be in some sort of post-apocalyptic haze. The most eye-catching part of the dance was the costumes: these are white skirts for all. Loud, pulsating music by Darryl J. Hoffman and angsty duets and group dances between the six dancers. One motif seemed to be the dancers hunching together on the floor. Thankfully, it was fairly short.
More simpatico was the brief but charming solo Just Your Two Wrists, by Paul Singh. Barely five minutes long, set to David Lang’s just (after song of songs), it mainly showed off Amari Frazier’s feline grace. I loved the way he used his long, liquid arms. He stretched his entire leg and foot out repeatedly, as if showing off his gorgeous line. There wasn’t much content to this dance, but it was enjoyable.
Program closed with Andrea Miller’s Year. There is a lot to admire about Year. Orly Anan Studio’s costumes are inventive: bodysuits with eyes and lip prints. The Fred Despierre score was genuinely catchy, with some club beat vibes. The set is a white box with a “sun” drop.The piece had atmosphere.
However, all the Andrea Miller pieces I’ve seen would benefit from being trimmed by ten minutes, and so it was with Year. The dance meandered without much structure to its conclusion. The upbeat club vibe dissipated and the dance got gloomier, more existential. The duets were repetitive. A lot of a woman arching her back dramatically. This is one of those pieces without a beginning or an end, just an unfocused middle.
