By Hilary Larkin, special to KC Arts Beat
I have always associated The Wizard of Oz with the zany world-bending traditions first brought into children’s literature by Alice in Wonderland. From Oxford riverbank to Kansas prairie; from rabbit hole to tornado; from idle girl to neglected girl; from Wonderland to Oz. From 1865 to 1900. So far, so comparative. But only recently have I come across a still more arresting theory that The Wizard of Oz is, in fact, an archetypally American Odyssey. Patrick Deneen, the political philosopher, has argued for its inclusion in a recent book, saying that the work is, for Americans ‘what the Odyssey was for the Greeks: a tale that provides a mythic revelation of our deepest inner selves.’ So consider: Dorothy as an American Avatar. There it is, there she is—the restless longing to escape, dreaming the American dream, and the long, strange journey homeward and inward. How had I not noticed this before?
Although not quite attaining a level of the Odyssean grandeur (more on that anon), Septime Webre’s Wizard of Oz performed tonight by the Kansas City Ballet, is, nonetheless, a delightful romp. In fact, I can hardly think of a contemporary choreographer who has more fun than Webre. He clearly loves stories, people, children, a full stage, including dancers dancing ‘scat’ in the background while the main action takes place downstage. The more, the merrier.
Radio City Rockette style Oz. Sado-masochistic Winkies beating out the rhythm with leather whips (a seductively powerful routine). Munchkins and ruffians in parti-colored costumes and tights, where one leg doesn’t quite know what the other leg is wearing (let alone doing; if in doubt, try sliding…).Toto with his very own puppeteer (shout out to Johnny Castle). Even the soporific poppy scene is choreographed busily,although perhaps one could imagine, in other hands, something more languorous here to convey the induced sleep of the main characters.
But Webre is on the button again with the throbbing, anthropomorphic yellow brick road. Think nine male dancers covered in yellow and orange Post-it notes. Or perhaps, if your references are more historical, an update on the Renaissance fashion for jagging garments (which caught on, so the story goes, when Swiss mercenaries slashed up Burgundian silks and velvets after the 1476 war.) Either way, both ways, any way, they’re on the road: in fact, they are indeed the road itself, the directions, the way to Oz.
So all told, Webre and a team of talented people, the scenic designer Michaael Raiford, the production designer, Aaron Rhyne, costume designer Liz Vandal, and composer Matthew Pierce are clearly having a great deal of fun out there. Even theopening scene, which take place in idyllic grayscale is quitecharming: not the kind of world one would want to escape from at all, with its thigh-slapping, tumbling and fence-jumping farmdances, to the accompaniment of folksy Copland-esque music.As a result of all this Kansas happiness, there’s little yearning in Webre’s Dorothy; little retreat into bittersweet ‘somewhere over the rainbow’. (The only rainbow that does appear is at the end, when she returns). There’s a small pas de Deux with the magician, and a tiny solo of home-longing before the Wizard, but on the whole, yearning is not a dance register used here: we don’t really see her alone with her dreams. This is perhaps a pity, given what we now feel convinced about her American archetypal status. Naomi Tanioka, however, was light and fleet and danced pleasingly as Dorothy.
Pantomime jazzy music makes the evil of the Witch, Mei McArtor, faintly ridiculous from the start; we are never in the realm of absolute terror. McArtor’s pointedly menacing foot and sharp angular movements did the job beautifully. Aidan Duffyperformed Scarecrow with plenty of goofy charm; Gavin Abercrombie, as Tinman, was daintily neat with his footwork; Cameron Thomas’ Lion had the necessary swaggering stage presence. All in all, it was an endearing quartet.
There were lots of video projections, all apt, some clever, a few maybe a little over-done and distracting. Some of the most alluring stage devices, I confess, were low tech: swirling flags, banners, scarfs—poles raised aloft carrying fantasies and phantasmagorias—pigs, milking cows, the tornado, and lots and lots of monkeys. Moving with a pole (or being elevated over the stage, with or without a bike) is still a kind of dance; a video can suck a bit of the kinetic energy towards a flat screen.
But niggles aside, Webre and his team have produced an eye-catching full-length ballet. It demands an irresistible maverick energy to fuse elements from various genres and time-periods, to create a time-bending, place-bending fantasy in balletic form. ‘Now this is what I call a show’, I heard the lady behind me in the auditorium proclaim. And indeed, so it was.
Wizard of Oz runs through Oct. 25 at the Muriel Kauffman Theatre. Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts. For tickets and more information, kcballet.org