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ST. LOUIS DANCE HQ - Jun 13

HQ REVIEW By Will Brighton

Sunday, June 9, 2024

The third installment to a series of concerts for sacred space, Leverage Dance Theater’s Of Matter, Mind & Spirit takes audiences on a rabbithole-esque voyage down, out, in, around, up, and through seemingly every inch of the Holy Cross Lutheran Church. Consisting of six unique works by six different choreographers, the dancers of Leverage Dance Theater guide and coax their audience through a journey that both celebrates and questions ideas of spirituality and its place, both physically and ideologically, in our humanity.

An introduction to the evening by artistic director Diana Lia Barrios in the church’s sanctuary serves as the final time audiences will see the church from its traditional vantage point among the central pews. As the audience is shuffled out a side door to the church’s courtyard, the golden hour rays and rustling leaves herald and reflect the sense of early-summer joy awaiting us in “She Said, She Said”, a trio choreographed by Marissa Beccard. Set to the retro and soulful tones of Shuggie Otis, “She Said…” is buzzing with childlike mischief in a kaleidoscope of cutesie poses and presentational gestures. The dancers, three young women dressed in sundresses and tan canvas sneakers, whisper secrets, tug on one another, and flirt playfully with the audience before eventually chasing each other off into the distance, inviting the audience to follow.

Chasing the dancers around the church and down some stairs, the audience is shepherded into a basement kitchen and met with a playful scene continuing the impish tones of nostalgia. “Spaghetti Dinner” by Paige Van Nest opens with the image of a mother frustratingly washing dishes in a far kitchen sink, while one young dancer assists begrudgingly with sorting cups and another lays napping like a doormouse on a nearby couch. The jazzy funk synonymous with John Coltrane, Moby, and James Brown paves a spirited tone as the mother tries to rile her children, each desparate for attention and stimulation, into help prepare the table. A range of tight and sweeping movments of frustration abound from all parties, pressing off kitchen walls, sprawling across kitchen tables, tossing plates to the ground until, eventually, the mother resolves to give in and let loose, turning the chores into a dance party filled with playful gestures and gyrating hips. As the table is finally set, we feel a sense of comradery and understanding, a renewed bond between mother and child.

A short pause gives way to a journey up several stairs and back into the sanctuary, where the audience is placed on the altar looking out toward a collection of pews off to their right. Choreographed and performed by Claire Hilleren and Ramona Orion, “Inner Sanctum,” with it’s hypnotic drones and meditative tempo, is a clear departure from the almost sacrine, cheerful tones of the previous works. Yet, this work is no far stranger from the previous themes of corporeal joy. Glimpses of limbs begin ever so slowly rising, breathing, and passing out of view within the benches. At first an elbow, then a wrist, an ankle, small articulate gestures of limbs undulating and swirling themselves in and out of formal geometry until, eventually, and without any ounce of rush, two bodies emerge, birthed out of the architecture of the church. Finally emerged, the bodies crawl among, reach through, and slip back into the rows forward and back of them, each on their own journeys until finally meeting eyes, sitting for a long moment poised yet slouched along the same pew. The droning music of Tim Hecker softens and makes way for Radiohead’s “No Surprises” as the goal of the dancers suddenly, but with no urgency, shifts. The two bodies begin to dance as one, finding each other with a curiosity and assertion in every inch that they get closer until they finally meet, entangled, dripping back into the pews and returning to the archeticture as one new being. In the context of the broader performance, “Inner Sanctum” serves as a true intersection of body and spirit. A sense of soft joy, curiosity, and honesty permiates the sanctuary as the dancers discover what it means to become bonded with another human, both in body and soul.

Led now by a dancer climbing the pews with a warm, glowing candle in hand, the audience arrives back to a set of pews, though this time set askew to observe “Unpaved” by Diana Lia Barrios. The droning, desert sounds of Jennifer Berezan pave the way for a row of dancers filing down the far side aisle, each on their own treacherous path, slipping and faltering as they eventually stagger their way into the pews. Some begin to tremble, others sway, and others shove their noses into holy texts. Eventually it is dancer Isobel Ramsey - who has thus far served as the audience’s curious and wide-eyed tour guide through the evening - who begins to breathe heavy, nearing screams of anguish, pounding at the benches surrounding her trying to escape their confines. Ramsey’s is a heart wrenching performance, serving as a reminder of the place of theater among dance in Leverage’s identity as a company. It is when she catches eyes with the audience, scanning slowly down the aisle, chest pounding with exhausted breaths, that the intense fear subsides into an understanding - she is not alone. The ensemble shifts and sways into ever larger movements, arcing and arabesquing around the tops of the pews. As individual turmoil turns into that of a collective, it begins to soften into something no longer frenetic and anxious but tender and generous. Eventually, the women gather at the edge of the pews, pausing, taking a breath, and stepping as one, returning on their path - still unsure yet comforted by the presence of their newfound community. 

Diving to the furthest extreme of the body-soul continuum, “Agua” by Diana Lia Barrios releases all attachments to the corporeal and studies the spirit in its most abstract form. The dancers, dressed in blue, pour and gently splash into, over, and around the pews like a river carving through ageless canyons. Agua is a meditation, never ceasing in its gentle, swelling motions. It is a welcome oasis, and a brief return to the familar of something akin to the proscenium as the dancers now ebb and flow through an upper balcony directly opposite the audience. But even this must subside. As “Agua” fades into the concert’s finale - choreographed by former director Keli Hermes to a hopeful score by Philip Glass - the dancers make their way back down to the main floor, leaving the audience to watch from above as they dance through every remaining foot of the sanctuary. The dancers spin, reach, toss, and end bound in tight embraces, before a sudden epiphany arises in the final note. It is here that the central theme of the night becomes clear. It is a study on spirit and its layered connection with the body, yes, but at its core, Of Matter, Mind & Spirit speaks something much more poignant: There is no connection to spirit without our connection and bond with others. It is community that lies at the center of our joys, our sorrows, our prayers, our matter, mind, and spirit.

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