DANCE REVIEW : ‘Carcass’ an Eloquent Testament to Survival

Haunting, painterly images and a strong sense of physicality combined to make the local premiere of Llory Wilson’s “This Cordate Carcass” one of the most fascinating dance events of the season.

The concert, which took Llory Wilson and Dancers to the cutting edge of contemporary movement, was another success story for Neofest, Sushi’s eighth annual salute to the new arts. Unlike most of the festival’s offerings, however, Wilson’s work was liberated from Sushi’s no-frills studio setting. The two-performance weekend run was danced on the Lyceum Stage, where its innate theatricality could take wing.

The dance drama, inspired by the life and art of painter Frida Kahlo, sent the five gymnastic dancers into a tailspin of violent thrusts, lunging falls and twisting floor-bound maneuvers. But the most thrilling sections of this 15-part piece were “danced” while the performers were suspended from three 12-foot copper poles that rose like ghostly, pointed monoliths, or from a four-legged metal construction on the opposite side of the stage.

Wilson’s collaborator, Beliz Brother, deserves kudos for both the awesome set and the stark lighting designs that alternately engulfed and obscured the athletic dancers during their 75-minute performance.

Kahlo, whose own career was eclipsed by that of her celebrated husband (Mexican muralist Diego Rivera), triumphed over the pain of a crippling disability to create a series of introspective self-portraits. Those paintings laid the groundwork for Wilson’s inspired piece.

The dance evolves as a series of episodes with a central motif: the struggle for survival in the face of adversity. That theme is echoed in the chain of events that comprise the work, performed by a quintet of female dancers with a seemingly endless supply of stamina.

They dance on pointe, on crutches and from every point on the wicked-looking poles. Wilson has been quoted as saying Kahlo’s portraits “translate to dance for me because they are so physical and alive.” Physical is the operative word here, and this modern maverick put the dancers through an all-out endurance contest.

An inventive solo for Kathleen Kelly--balancing on pointe and crutches--was the most poignant paean to the artist. It had the sleekly built Kelly probing the stage like a wounded deer, but with the utmost grace and control.

The choreographer went solo to mirror the twitchy moves of Rachel Warwick’s original score in “The Broken Column.” This brief but powerful segment abounded with deformed gestures and aborted moves, all delivered while the dancer was pitifully trussed up in a brace.

Wilson’s dances often reached mercurial speeds, but the designer also used the power of stillness. Yoga-style stances and double images, as well as all manner of interlocking arm movements, were part of her bag of choreographic tricks.

Moments of levity fractured the somber mood at times, including some sprightly folk dances. Shauna Frazier’s spare but artfully evocative costumes contributed significantly to Wilson’s vision.

There was nothing predictable or derivative about “This Cordate Carcass.” Wilson had something to say, and she said it eloquently.