by Linda Shapiro
St. Paul Pioneer Press
September, 2002
The gestures of Bharatanatyam, a 2000-year-old classical dance form from South India, speak directly to the gods. So this wordless language had better be both grammatically correct and eloquently expressive.
Ragamala Music and Dance Theater's "Srishti" (Creation), running through Sunday night at the Southern Theater in Minneapolis, pulsates with rhythmic excitement and visceral narration of stories both ancient and modern. Choreographer Aparna Ramaswamy pushes the boundaries of Bharatanatyam by interweaving it with other dance and musical forms. Consequently, Thursday night's audience got to have it all--a program that begins with a salutation to the Hindu deities and ends with bracing infusions of contemporary modern dance and Japanese Taiko drumming.
The suite opens with a traditional homage to Mother Earth in which five dancers stamp out complex rhythms while their arms and hands move through stylized gestures. Subtle movements of the head, neck, eyes and even eyebrows complete this polyrhythmic invocation, a hymn to the interconnectedness of all living things.
In "Chandra Chooda," Ramaswamy personifies the many atttributes of the god Shiva. She is a quicksilver, protean being embodying the dynamic spirit of Bharatanatyam--strong, sculptural poses from which emanate a synergy of body parts in opposing motions and rhythms. One moment she is the strong, implacable god wielding a bow and arrow, the next a playfuol, sensual lover. It's like watching a first-rate display of cascading fireworks: geometric patterns filled with volatile explosions of light.
In the second part of the program, Ramaswamy pulls out all the stops. Building on th basic Bharatanatyam vocabulary, she creates hybrid forms. In "Chaaya," she joins forces with choreographer Uri Sands and modern dancer Toni Pierce-Sands. The gods would have to be crazy not to love this dynamic duo of exquisitely sensual Ramaswsamy and fiercely compelling Pierce-Sands. They move like a living frieze, connecting their diverse energies in contrapuntal bursts of movement. Pierce-Sands gives the Indian phrases a sweeping grandeur and febrile intensity, while Ramaswamy flits around her like a guardian spirit, Ariel to her Prospero.
In the finale, "Laya Taiko," the company lets loose with buoyant elan to the powerful throbbing of a Japanese taiko drum, played with gusto by Rachel Gorton. It's a propitious ending to a marvelous evening of dance.
