DANCE REVIEW : Feld Ballet Novelties in San Diego

Eliot Feld--whose company of 21 energetic young dancers opened a rare Southern California engagement at Symphony Hall on Friday--has come a long way since he choreographed “The Consort” in 1970. No one who knows his facile, prolific and provocative output doubts that.

The very mixed mixed-bill that served as his calling card here left some doubt, however, as to whether Feld has come a long way forward. By following the inventive antics of “The Consort” with three dutiful genre pieces created in the past four years, it was inadvertently suggested that Feld may have gotten lost in a cutesy maze or stalled in a trendy cul-de-sac.

Don’t misunderstand. One always has to acknowledge his wit and theatricality. One has to admire his musicality, even when it is applied to maddening minimalist repetition. One also must be impressed by the vigor and versatility, if not by the uniform technical authority, that he has coaxed from a robust new generation of dancers.

Still, after all these years, one can ask if Feld has fulfilled his initial promise. When he emerged upon the scene, many experts were certain they had at last found the next Robbins, possibly the next Balanchine. Now there can be room for doubt. The worst skeptics think Feld may just be another Arpino.

In “The Consort,” he demonstrated an uncanny command of changing density and shifting proportion, plus a sly sense of irony. Perhaps most important, he showed a respect for climactic development.

The ballet begins with some deft balletic abstraction of Renaissance court rituals. Gradually, the formality loosens, and the lofty manners sink to earth. The six busy couples concentrate--with lusty, deftly focused bravado--on basic libidinous interaction. The curtain falls, and not a moment too late, on an elegantly stylized peasant orgy.

Although Feld may not have made any profound statements in “The Consort,” his touch was emphatically secure, his purpose clear, his choice of tone certain. Similar claims cannot be made for “Asia” (1989).

In this mildly beguiling little mishmash, he flirts simultaneously with subtle exotic kitsch, broad exotic-kitsch parody, fuzzy odes to Diaghilev and Fokine, shimmering gallic sensuality and Hollywood-harem cartoonery. In the end, the conflicting flirtations lead to contradictory frustrations.

The musical inspiration is Ravel’s “Sheherazade.” But where the unidentified mezzo-soprano on the over-amplified tape recording sings gently of “assassins with smiles on their faces,” Lynn Aaron as the crimson-sleeved odalisque in toe shoes plasters a grotesque wide-mouthed grimace on her pretty visage. It tells everything.

Before the piece unwinds, Feld introduces a quartet of vamping or preening sorority priestesses and, anticlimactically, a self-absorbed slave-boy (Darren Gibson) who usurps the traditional cold-siren duties. There is a lot of arm in too many directions, both stylistic and emotive, for aesthetic comfort. Nevertheless, it is well crafted, and it certainly was well danced.

In “Kore” (1988), Feld provided the sleek yet lush Buffy Miller with an indulgent solo to the irritatingly redundant accompaniment of Steve Reich’s Music for Large Ensemble. This is Feld’s seventh Reich ballet. With luck, it could be his last.

The music thumps along mechanically for 15 minutes, bludgeoning the senses while the delicious Persephone, dressed by Willa Kim as a quaint figure lifted from a Greek vase, celebrates fertility and springtime her special way. Her way, in this case, involves an increasingly frantic yet regimented series of stock maneuvers: nervous flicks and twitches, arching propeller motions, willowy poses, weight-shifting sidesteps and measured collapses. It must be exhausting for the dancer. It definitely is exhausting for the observer.

The ever-decreasing audience adored “The Jig Is Up” (1984), which closed the program. This is, if nothing else, a crowd-pleaser.

Irish and Scottish music, courtesy of recordings by the Bothy Band and John Cunningham, provides the rocky impetus for a suite of eight gutsy-cutesy exercises. The folk element here is appropriately synthetic.

The hard-working participants--decked out in Kim’s designer-chic unisex rags and sneakers--wag their hands, kick and flail, prance and smirk with virtuosic glee. At key moments, Allen Lee Hughes’ lighting scheme turns them into animated silhouettes.

The 15 dancers bounce through Feld’s ornate mock-jigs and athletic disco numbers feverishly. They also end up bouncing monotonously. It isn’t their fault.

The program sheet, incidentally, provided precious little background information. An apologetic note at the bottom blamed Performing Arts Network for “failing to deliver the program book.” Perhaps the annotation will improve, along with the repertory, when the company returns for performances on Friday and Saturday.