Music and Dance Reviews : Hungarian State Folk Ensemble at Ambassador

Sandor Timar’s choreography for the Hungarian State Folk Ensemble has long been celebrated for its spatial flair--its distinctively fluid, asymmetrical deployment of groups and activities.

At Ambassador Auditorium on Wednesday, however, Timar’s work seemed most notable for its deft expansions of scale: the way, for example, he started “Dances of Sovidek” intimately, with two men showing off their twisty, footloose Transylvanian style. Soon there were four men dancing, then 11 and, not long after--creating a splash of scarlet--the women entered in tight four-three-four groupings. Finally, in the midst of a surging czardas, five more couples arrived, completing what had evolved into a stage-filling spectacle of color and motion.

In its fourth North American visit, Timar’s company still has a citified notion of instrumental music and choral singing. Certainly, other companies--including several born in the United States--preserve the tang of Hungarian folk music better than this one. For starters, the members of his fine folk orchestra might reconsider their need to play Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 on any tour, much less every tour.

The women dancers of 1990 are superb--not merely an ornament to the men’s flamboyant boot-slapping, spur-rattling virtuosity but their full equals. Indeed, nothing in the opening “Dances of Kalocsa” suite surpassed the women’s bouncy prancing steps as they waved arms in unison and formed circle patterns. Their resources of energy and control here seemed focused on a very small range of movement--but as a result that movement had incredible vivacity.

Hungarian-speaking audience members seemed especially delighted Wednesday by “Dances of Rabakoz”, described in the program booklet as “a happy gathering of young lads who dance and sing naughty songs.” (Where are supertitles when you really need them?)

Others, though, may have found “Dances From Zemplen” the evening’s highlight. Here the men wore loose, skirtlike white pantaloons and shirts and, over those, dark, richly decorated aprons and vests, plus hats with plumes, boots, spurs--so much stuff that you’d have guessed they could scarcely move.

Nonsense. Their intricate foot-work and bold partnering ploys fairly exploded across the stage. Never underestimate an overdressed Hungarian.