Loretta Livingston and Dancers. - Japan America Theatre, Los Angeles, California - dance reviews

Dance Magazine, Oct, 1996 by Donna Perlmutter

JAPAN AMERICA THEATRE, LOS ANGELES JUNE 14, 1996 REVIEWED BY DONNA PERIMUTTER

Smart, literate choreographers in search of ideas often stretch a point too far--like Loretta Livingston, whose Tales from the Plate, Moving North waxes witty and doleful by turns but spins itself out on an overly ambitious course. A many-segmented, evening-long piece, her latest punning adventure is a performance essay on life in L.A.--its earthquakes and anomie, its multiculturalism, its funk and fetish.

She gets the tone and symbolism right by way of Frank Romero's cartoon cutouts of palm trees, suspended toy cars, and giant handgun. And titles like "Whose Fault Is This?" are freshly amusing. Livingston herself, as Angelita Luz (Little Angel Light), a punk blonde muse with fluffy feather wings who smokes out of the side of her mouth and lolls about in tough-girl despair, becomes the work's figurehead. The other dancers--Monica Favand, David Pletiner, Michael Mizerany, and Madeline Soglin--hurtle, cavort, and scramble expertly. But the true dimension derives from Murielle Hamilton's momentous score, which crosses currents between sort-of-Shostakovich and neo-baroque, with a craftsmanship that yields wry, economic values.

When she puts her mind to it Livingston offers up formal dances of more than passing interest. Otherwise, it's the bemused narrative that drives both the visuals and the movement. In one segment dancers step over a "fault" and then proceed to shake, as though hit with a seismic shudder. Following this they empty sacks of dirt onto the stage, then lie about kicking up dust while rolling and tussling in the dry brown stuff.

Livingston can always be counted on for at least one startlingly original image poised somewhere between humor and mystery. In Tales it's the moment when Angelita stands before five little dolls sitting up and facing her, their bare backs each a different skin color. The impact is sudden and strong, its message fills in as she bourrees and undulates idiosyncratically to her tiny multiracial audience of plastic.

The only thing left undone was a final edit, which would have condensed the work to its essential seventy minutes and made for a consistently engaging effort.