Hip-Hop Hurrah - Reviews: National - Hip-Hop DanceFest, San Francisco, California - Brief Article

Dance Magazine, Feb, 2002 by Rita Felciano

Hip-Hop Hurrah San Francisco 2001 Hip-Hop DanceFest Theater Artaud San Francisco, California November 8-18, 2001

More than a formal theatrical presentation, the third annual San Francisco Hip-Hop DanceFest felt like a gathering of tribes--a family reunion whose members have spread far and wide, yet who trace their roots to a common origin. So maybe it should have come as no surprise that the most appealing aspect of this evening with seven of the twenty-one groups that performed over two weekends was the impromptu jam, with dancers showing off for each other on the stage before curtain time. That's where individuality and personal style could shine. For the formal presentations, that individuality, for the most part, had to be subsumed into group identity. At its best, this made for infectious group energy and a sense of common purpose; at its weakest, it seemed like a language learned by rote, not yet the flexible instrument with which to create drama and poetry onstage.

Hip-hop is a young person's art. Anybody in that audience over 35--this writer included--looked over the hill. But ironically, the best show all evening was put on by a group of over-the-hill men, members of Medea Sirkas, who have been performing together for more than twenty years. Their Dance of the Dead (The Awakening) was embedded in a simple narrative in which a vodoun ceremony called up a figure of Death, who in turn called up two skeletons from their sarcophagi. A trio of robots then emerged from a haunted house. Theirs was synchronized dancing, honed to razor-sharp virtuosity, performed with total aplomb. You could almost hear the skeletons' joints rattle in the popping moves while the tight formations of the robots' interlocking arms, braiding legs, and lightning-fast changes of positions blurred the lights that outlined their bodies.

Much of the evening's choreography was of the traffic-cop variety--making sure everyone stayed together and on the beat--though some choreographers at least attempted to translate this social form into a theatrical format. While still rudimentary, enough ideas emerged to suggest that future festivals should put more emphasis on innovative choreography. Farthest along those lines was SoulForce, whose witty Your Lies Ain't Workin' Now sent a lover packing, while the long-abused woman joined a group of exuberant female friends--all in gold hot pants. Less dramatic but more emotionally nuanced was their Enter National, with tabla music and the dancers in oversized T-shirts imprinted with flags from nations around the world.

Of the other groups, Motion Underground Dance Company experimented with a three-step staircase to create multiple performance platforms. In Get Down and Unborn Child, Mind Tricks, an octet of male dancers, consistently managed a successful balance between solo and group performance. On the other hand, I didn't quite see the point of Loose Change's mixing of breaking, lindy-hopping, and line dancing. The choreographically simpleminded Khaotik and the earnest Destiny Arts Youth Performance Company looked like recreational ensembles.