SPF 6, the sixth annual Summer Performance Festival for fledgling modern dance companies in San Francisco, closed on Sunday with an irresistible chamber ballet by The Milissa Payne Project that brought down the house at the small-but-splendid ODC Theater in the hip Mission district.
Up in the Air, set to snippets from string quartets by Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn, in exuberant interpretations by the Calder Quartet, features eight classically-trained dancers in a joyful, narrative-free riff on neoclassical technique, shot through with tenderness and whimsy. Choreographer Milissa Payne Bradley rides the music like a surfer carves the waves. She propels her ensemble at lightning speed through sculptural patterns that flirt with symmetry and canon, and give us beauty in disarray. There is an edginess evident in the skids and slides across the floor, in the abrupt finishes of some of the turns and jumps, and in the seamless assimilation of “found” gestures into the classical vocabulary.
The piece opens in silence, with the regal, voluptuous Megan Wright sprawled on the ground in a pool of light, as if asleep; only the delicate wriggling of her inquisitive fingers gives her away. The tiny movements become sweeping gestures, and we are reminded of Frederick Ashton’s Five Brahms Waltzes, a tribute to the San Franciscan pioneer of modern dance, Isadora Duncan. The women’s flowing apricot-hued dresses, gathered at the shoulders, cinched at the waist, lightly accented with beading, pay homage to Duncan’s Grecian-inspired tunics, which showed a daring amount of skin (daring for the early 1900’s). The entire piece, in fact, serves as an ironic comment on Duncan’s denunciation of classical ballet in favor of her own construction of “free dance” and her wacky elevation of Greek ideals.
The angst and torture that fill much of contemporary ballet by Forsythe, McGregor, Wheeldon and company is banished from the world of Up in the Air. There is great affection between these dancers. Wit, teasing, and humor abound – as when Wright ends a grace-filled conversation with Jackie Goneconti by picking her up in the most ungainly fashion and carting her off into the wings. Or Marlowe Bassett, who thrills us with her long lines and fabulous balletic extensions, then walks offstage stiffly in the manner of an Egyptian relief painting: two-dimensionally, with arms thrust in parallel in front of her body.