Explosive, Witty, Sometimes, Trite

Changes coming to CND2. What lies ahead for this greatly admired company?

The dancers in CND2 can apparently do anything. They are  elastic, strong, speedy and very young, and they can all execute the fast-flowing, intricate choreography to perfection. But the greatest virtue of CND2’s choreography and dancers — nonstop virtuosity — is also its greatest flaw.  When every piece requires the same hard-driving intensity from every dancer, the individuals begin to merge, their personalities indistinguishable from one another.

   CND2 (for Compania Nacional de Danza 2) was founded as the junior ensemble to Spain’s national company. Its founder and artistic director, Nacho Duato, choreographed two of the three pieces presented last week at Jacob’s Pillow.  Each one uses similar strategies to create very different worlds and stories, with mixed results.  

   Duato’s “Gnawaâ€� focuses on members of mystic, sub-Saharan Muslim brotherhoods who use music and dance to evoke ancestral saints for healing or to drive out evil.  

   To Spanish and North African rhythms,  “Gnawaâ€� interweaves fast-flowing groups, twining duets and solos, the men bare-chested, the women in long, flowing black dresses. The company’s movement is based in ballet — essentially stretched and upward moving — but there are no point shoes in evidence, and only rarely do recognizable ballet steps appear.  

   In “Gnawa,â€� the group sections are the most exciting: in one, a roiling crowd lifts one person, then another, as it reaches an ecstatic peak. In another, they gather like a rugby scrum,  moving together with coiled explosive energy. Later, a couple all in white — the woman might be a bird — dance together in a technically impressive duet, but lose the energy of the groups. Nor do the episodes and snippets of music add up to a full story.

   “Insected,â€� by company co-director Tony Fabre, is the most interesting of the three pieces on the program and the only one with a sense of humor.  Bugs and creepy-crawlies of all kinds climbed or clung to a wall, or scurried out from under a low platform like roaches at night: never before did the human body replicate arachnids and segmented, exoskeletal creatures quite as well.
   “Kol Nidre,â€� named after the prayer recited on the evening of the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur, is meant to evoke the effect of war on children. It’s an honorable purpose, but if it’s possible to create a dance about suffering and the end of innocence that is not filled with cliché, Duato did not succeed.  

   On a set with a pile of sandbags and a gauzy, white column, children race around in play, which gradually transforms into a  romance, then a battle, and ends in the apparent death of at least one of the playmates.  

   The score, again, is a mishmash, this time a combination of somber woodwinds  (that evoke but do not use the actual “Kol Nidreâ€� melody), electronica and feedback.  

   Duato is retiring after 20 years at CND2’s helm. The future of the company is unknown. It may disband.  Duato has created a much-beloved institution, but I wonder if his works, which thrill for their technical brilliance but lack a certain something that would make them memorable, will last.

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