Review: Stephen Petronio Company, 30th anniversary, New York

Stephen Petronio celebrated three decades of work with a week of anniversary shows at the Joyce Theatre in New York last week. The evening was the sum of three parts – “Strange Attractors”, an ensemble piece from the Petronio repertory from the late 1990s; “Stripped”, a solo work performed by Petronio himself; and a brand new group work, “Locomotor”. The final third was by the far most vibrant and fulfilling, capturing the punk attitude of the choreographer at his most adrenaline-giddy as well as stylish.

Like many who have sometimes favoured style over fully-formed structure, Petronio often thinks in terms of images. “Stripped” was the weakest element of the evening because of this. Petronio worked his way through a series of restrained yet distinctively Petronio-esque movements, apparently unable to see anything due to the scores of neckties swaddled around his head. Rather like Michael Clark, Petronio’s ex-husband and the dancer who might still be considered his European counterpart in terms of iconoclasm, pop attitude, fashion and music collaborations and all round counter culture cool, Petronio can rely too heavily on prop gimmick. “Stripped” is best filed under “nice idea”. The image of Petronio, centre stage, with the unravelled but still connected neck ties crossing from one side of the proscenium arch to the other, makes for a great production still, but to get to that image there were moments of awkwardness. The concept obscured the movement. There was little flow and an absence of grace.

It all felt as flimsy, pretty and ephemeral as the low-key, romantic score by Michael Nyman that settled over the top of it like a spritz of eau de toilette

“Strange Attractors” is an elegant, beautifully danced piece, but felt as soporific in parts as the silk pyjamas – designed by Ghost – worn by the dancers. The dancers and the dance took flight time after time, but it all felt as flimsy, pretty and ephemeral as the low-key, romantic score by Michael Nyman that settled over the top of it like a spritz of eau de toilette. With different music, and different styling, this would be a far more compelling piece – as compelling, perhaps, as “Locomotor”, which left the evening on a high note. This was sexy, fresh and provocative, from the clingy, flesh and black costumes by Narciso Rodriguez to the cut-up electronic score by Petronio’s cousin, the consistently Pitchfork-feted Clams Casino. Petronio’s dancers appeared, at times, to be working in rewind, leaping through the space backwards, one after another. The dance was linear, swirling, pelvic and always dynamic. It felt mature and coherent and 100% Petronio. To survive in an industry as fragile as contemporary dance for thirty years is no mean feat. To continually thrill an audience with your own immediately recognisable vocabulary of movement is more than enough reason for a standing ovation. Petronio remains a vibrant voice in the canon of the New York visual arts. C