WEEKEND REVIEWS : Dance : The Joffrey Introduces an Erotic Trifle

It was a typical night with the Joffrey Ballet on Friday at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

High energy levels. Low finesse levels. Interesting repertory. Few delusions of grandeur. A little bit of this, a big bit of that. . . .

As always, some bits turned out to be better than others. But the medium-size crowd loved everything. Vociferously.

This is still the sort of company that can give eclecticism a good name. Gerald Arpino is carrying the torch bravely.

The evening began with the prim bravura of “Les Patineurs,” Frederick Ashton’s mock-Victorian evocation of skating without ice (or skates), anno 1937.

The evening closed with the allegorical heroism of “Les Presages,” Leonide Massine’s splashy evocation of the inexorable march of fate on tippy-toe, anno 1933.

The middle portion of the program included the athletic elegy of “Return to a Strange Land,” Jiri Kylian’s abstract evocation of convoluted relationships, anno 1975.

The center of attention, however, was the sole novelty on the agenda: a moderately erotic 8-minute trio by Randy Duncan called “A Tri-Fling.” The ambiguity of the title is, of course, intentional. Also tempting. . . .

A jazzy champion of contemporary adventure, Duncan served until recently as director of the Joseph Holmes Chicago Dance Theater. For his first Joffrey vehicle, first performed in New York in April, he paid respectful homage to the tenets of romantic tradition.

In “Tri-Fling,” the ever-stoic ballerina, Meg Guirin, dances--also, slides, hops, stretches and gets dragged-- sur les l0 pointes. Her contrasting partners, who interact in varying suggestive combinations, are not nearly as well bred.

On one hand, there is cool David Kierce, apparently an earnest but stuffy fellow who wears two-thirds of a three-piece business suit. On the other, there is hot Pierre Lockett, a wild, shadowy spirit who doesn’t believe in buttoning his shirt.

These three engage one another in neatly strenuous intertwining exercises, to the plunk-pop-and-drone strains of a simple (don’t call it minimalist) taped score by Tommy Mother. There may not be much substance here. Still, it is easy to appreciate Duncan’s languid lifts, his subtle funk and bracing bursts of agitation, not to mention his trendy ruminations on the distinctions between a pas de trois and a menage a trois.

Even within the cliche-oriented environment he has chosen, the choreographer’s control of dynamic focus and concern for emotional nuance look promising. Fortunately, “A Tri-Fling” stops before its modest ideas wear out their modest welcome.

All three of the hard-dancing principals performed with skillful dedication to the cause. J. Kevin Draves’ costumes reinforced the archetypal role definitions, and Howell Binkley’s elemental lighting effects did their mood-setting job.

*

The familiar portions of the program offered few surprises.

“Les Patineurs,” last seen here in 1988 and now staged by Hilary Cartwright, seemed a little rough. Calvin Kitten, latest in a line of flying imps cast as the long-spinning boy in blue, was properly fleet and, perhaps, improperly cute. Conversely, Jodie Gates and Tom Mossbrucker traced the patterns of the “white” pas de deux with grim accuracy. Forget charm.

“Return to a Strange Land,” last seen here in 1983, does not look particularly strange in the darkness of 1994. Kylian’s intricate abstractions retain their pathos, however, and one still can marvel at the choreographer’s sensitive response to the intimate clashes in Janacek’s piano music.

Beatriz Rodriguez, strongly partnered by Ryuji Yamamoto and Michael Levine, represented the relatively earthy trio. Deborah Dawn, Tom Mossbrucker and Adam Sklute provided relatively ethereal counterpoint.

“Les Presages,” the presumed piece de resistance, strikes some observers as a neglected epochal masterpiece, others as an over-inflated, hopelessly dated period piece. This ungrateful observer--who admits to a low tolerance for melodramatic gut-thumping and portentous posing, especially when the soundtrack involves Tchaikovsky’s Fifth--should be counted among the others.

Still, all is not lost. Historical exhumations are undeniably intriguing, and now we know where “Spartacus” and “The Red Detachment of Women” came from.

Several newcomers joined the excellent cast for this second local performance. Fern Miller served as an agreeably programmatic Temptation. Deborah Dawn and Pascal Benichou brought reasonable expansion to the overwrought neoclassicism of the Passion pas de deux.

In the pit, Allan Lewis and a slightly truncated orchestra served a slightly truncated Tchaikovsky conscientiously.