ENIGMATIC DANCE : NINA WIENER AND CO.’S ‘ENCLOSE TIME’ AT UCLA

Nina Wiener--whose company introduced an engaging and confusing three-act modern-abstract-narrative quasi-psychoballet called “Enclosed Time” Friday night at Royce Hall, UCLA--can boast a terrific, super-eclectic pedigree.

According to a program annotation that tells us much about the participating individuals and nothing about the work at hand, Wiener, 39, has studied with Bella Lewitzky, Merce Cunningham, Paul Taylor, Alvin Ailey, the Martha Graham company, Leon Danielian and George Balanchine.

One wonders where she found the time. One also wonders how she escaped Petipa, Isadora Duncan and Pina Bausch.

Be that as it may, she did not escape Twyla Tharp, in whose company Wiener danced before forming her own ensemble in 1976. For some reason, that salient fact is omitted from the official biography.

It would be silly to search for the influence of each of Wiener’s mentors at this late date. Though one may notice a trace of this one’s motion poetry here and that one’s group ritual there, she obviously is very much her own woman.

Her choreography integrates a rather personal vocabulary of myths and symbols. Like the cultish post-modernists of the day, she uses repetitive patterns as a means of conveying dramatic continuity amid would-be dynamic crescendos. But, thank goodness, she uses those patterns sparingly.

She appropriates primitive techniques, but she is no primitivist. She embellishes basic leitmotific gestures with bold, old-fashioned, theatrical devices. She allows her dancers considerable freedom of expression, makes much of acrobatic lyricism, exploits the tensions inherent in the taut accumulation of energy and never overstays her welcome. She even dares decorate the stage with sets and the protagonists with costumes.

Obviously, she is trying to tell us something. Something important. Something profound.

At least one observer, unfortunately, had some trouble on this occasion deciphering the message. According to an interview that appeared in these pages last week, “Enclosed Time” explores “the historical evolution of sexual relationships.” According to a press release from the UCLA sponsors, it is “a cosmic look at the perils of humankind in the nuclear age.”

On the other foot, it could just be a moody--even pretentious--exercise in fluid falling and crawling, in subtly virtuosic body entwining, in endlessly imitative thrusts and jumps and stomps and curves, in stylized stretching and supple posing.

The first of the three 20-minute acts is subtitled “In Old Time.” It seems to involve mildly competitive gender wars fought, sensuously, in the shadow of a towering, simplistic statue of a heroic man/god.

The music, a hypnotic collage of nonsense syllables and melodic fragments by Meredith Monk, is most compelling as accompaniment to a slow-motion, legato-trance solo by Byron Richard.

The second act, “Out of Time,” introduces two huge columns: One is a triangular transparent-plastic tube that eventually gets filled with smoke; the other is a nice, round, leafy tree trunk. The setting, obviously intended to define the conflict between menacing science and innocent nature, inspires some of the dancers to frolic like anesthetized wood sprites while others stalk the boards in the guise of lively robots. The sweet electronic score here is by Sergio Cervetti.

The third act, “Not Yet Time,” echoes motives from the previous acts, but now the dominating structure is a cool, flat futuristic tower embellished with cut-out designs. The quaintly mod score is by Elliott Sharp. The dancers, in confining costumes by Robin Kilingensmith, execute increasingly mechanized maneuvers.

They also sport hats adorned with cones, triangles, discs and other geometric forms--a possible reference to Paul Taylor’s “Cloven Kingdom.” The comic effect, one fears, is definitely unintentional.

The four pieces of scenery, designed by the Arquitechtonica firm, sometimes overpower the dancing. One can only wonder how the work worked back in 1985, when six additional architectural elements cluttered the stage. One also wonders how “Enclosed Time” would look if taken out of the perpetual obfuscation created by the darkening designer, Jennifer Tipton.

As it stands--and, for all we know, it still may be a work in progress--Wiener’s magnum opus lacks dramatic focus and continuity. It certainly does not lack bold ideas, however, or bravura performances.

The suave violence of Erin Thompson and the rubbery flexibility of Byron Richard attract special attention in a marvelously disciplined ensemble that also includes Valerie Bergman, Mauri Cramer, Thomas Grunewald and Jodi Melnick.

The professional sextet was augmented on Friday by nine well-indoctrinated students from UCLA.