THEATER REVIEW
Iona too laden with circus-like gimmickry
By Ana Paula Höfling
Iona Pear, the well-known Honolulu-based dance company, announced a few months back that it had dropped the pear and changed its name to Iona Contemporary Dance Theatre.
However, along with the pear, it seemed to have also dropped the simplicity and clarity of Butoh, the Japanese modern dance form that has informed the works of this dance company to date.
The opening of Iona Contemporary Dance Theatre's "Destiny" includes women in tree costumes waving their branches in the wind. Iona is without the pear but not without peer.
"Destiny," the company's latest evening-length work, performed Friday night at the Hawai'i Theatre, was cluttered and lacked the intensity and focus of this group's previous work. This three-hour epic was a collage of fragmented images that never reached beneath the surface.
The opening tableau sets high expectations: A dancer hangs from the ceiling, another balances on a giant spider web, and three women in elaborate tree costumes, with knotty cloth roots cascading from their waists, wave their branches in the wind.
A dancer in red enters and performs a solo thin on structure and heavy on arm waving; a golden human statue stands still. Nothing really happens in this rich, multi-layered garden — its inhabitants never acknowledge each other — and we are prematurely taken to the next scene.
An endless series of short scenes follows, each relying heavily on frequent costume changes and redundant use of text, video and props. The audience is bombarded with images ranging from Snow White to Jesus, from Dorothy to a rifle-toting Little Red Riding Hood.
• What: A performance by Iona Contemporary Dance Theatre • When: 4 p.m. today • Where: Hawai'i Theatre • Admission: $35-$25 • Information: 528-0506, 262-0110
It is clear that the choreographer is struggling to get a message across, to tell a story, but the message is obscured by the multitude of gimmicks used for circus-like visual effects.
'Destiny'
"Destiny" is packed with enough ideas for 10 evening-length concerts, yet none of them is fully developed.
A woman in red, wearing what looks like an ammunition belt around her waist, approaches a man in white body makeup wearing only briefs. Instead of bullets, she pulls out bright red lipstick, paints her lips and kisses the man on the forehead. She repeats the gesture with the same intensity, same speed and same intent countless times, kissing the man on different parts of his body.
This is neither funny nor intriguing and it doesn't evolve. Like most other scenes, it begins and ends gratuitously.
Cheryl Flaharty's group choreography uses unison almost exclusively, all dancers facing front, making the movement look like dance class exercises.
These dance sequences do not add to the narrative, which is presented through mime, costumes or text: They become a backdrop to the mime, yet often this thin drama in the foreground ends up obstructing the view of some well-executed dancing in the back.
Some talented performers were able to shine through the clutter: Dennis Miller was mesmerizing as the fast-talking quantum physicist and the male trio on tree stumps was able to cut through the monotony of the evening.
Despite its problems, the evening of sensorial overload seemed to please the opening night audience, who gave an enthusiastic standing ovation.
Ana Paula Höfling is a dancer, choreographer and dance teacher.
