DANCE REVIEW : ‘Oba Oba’ Tones Down Its Act in Return to Pantages Theatre

A nightclub T-&-A revue for tourists reconceived on a Wagnerian scale, “Oba Oba” views all the great themes, achievements and struggles of Brazilian culture through the prism of Carnival. From an African Macumba ritual dripping with sequins to “Tico Tico” in toe shoes, it’s all here, at the Pantages Theatre (where it opened Thursday) through June 3.

Slavery and the samba, the capoeira and a tribute to Carmen Miranda, a jiggle festival and the music of Antonio Carlos Jobim all flash by at the same level of delirious titillation. Some of the idioms may seem exotic, but we certainly recognize the process--we do much the same thing to our own traditions in our halftime shows and Rose Parades.

With its hard-working, 12-member band deployed in the architectural recesses flanking the Pantages proscenium, “Oba Oba” briefly gives center stage to such fine folkloric musicians as Toco Preto and Cesar de Alabama, who introduce us to the cavaquinho, berimbau and other native or adopted Brazilian instruments. There are also song suites incorporating “Garota de Ipanema” and other international pop hits--plus the statuesque Vivian M. Soares energetically lip-syncing through a flashy but not very stylish Carmen Miranda medley.

As always, the greatest glory of “Oba Oba” remains its dancers: the beautiful, skillful, all-but-naked men and women who make Roberto Abrahao’s choreography seem like the last word in sensual abandon. The best of them go beyond mechandising the mystique of Brazil or other ingratiating brown-skin-for-export nonsense to establish themselves as distinctive, self-assured artists: young people responding to their material as individually as we do--and with as much humor.

It can’t be easy. Sensing the growing conservatism of America in the ‘90s, this sixth “Oba Oba” edition deletes the kinkiest and most revealing diversions of its predecessor. Gone is the fancy dress ball with its depictions of jealousy, humiliation and sexual subjugation. Gone too is the steamy, bisexual menage a trois dance.

In their place we get a sedate, locked-down lambada sequence choreographed by Carlinhos Jesus: fast and forceful as danced by Carlos Oliveira and Elaine Garcia but curiously desensualized. Velly Bahia and Glaucia Ribeiro give it some sense of fun and spontaneity, but it still looks less like the notorious Forbidden Dance than the Brazilian equivalent of safe sex.

The capoeira suite is also changed: far more focused on individual gymnastic display than combat--though when the foot-fighting finally begins, the incredibly fast and high circle kicks at close range look as astonishing, and dangerous, as before.

These spectacular capoeira confrontations and the fabulous Afro-Brazilian drumming used to be the purest moments in “Oba Oba,” the essence of what the show adapted, embroidered, and, inevitably, cheapened elsewhere. There are fewer of them in the new edition--reason enough to race to the Pantages before the forces of assimilation and glitz take an even greater toll.