Pilobolus Builds on Versatility by Reaching Into Its Past

Four men swirl, vault and swing one another through elaborate circular formations in the air and on the floor, with each rotation making the next more powerful and engulfing. Right after, in another piece, a lone woman rolls across the stage like a wind-driven tumbleweed, sometimes turning rapidly in a small, tight clump of limbs, sometimes more slowly, with arms drifting up to the light . . .

Contrary to its original plans, Pilobolus Dance Theatre began its program at the Alex Theatre on Sunday with these contrasting explorations of centrifugal force. An injury to dancer Josie Coyoc had caused two scheduled new works at the beginning of the evening to be dropped in favor of two golden oldies: the quartet “The Particle Zoo” from 1990 and the solo “Pseudopodia” from 1974. As it happened, these substitutions not only revealed how much creative variety the 28-year-old company can find in a single physical premise, but provided an ideal prologue to the first recent work on view: “Gnomen,” from 1997.

Here we again found the four “Zoo” men on a roll, but as soon as they untangled themselves from their traveling group cluster, a problem developed: Otis Cook seemed unable to move his legs or even stand. So the others raised, supported and swooped him through a series of flying formations--all very brotherly and even tender despite their physical daring, with music by Paul Sullivan making the work seem a study in loving friendship.

But after Cook recovered and Matt Kent became the temporarily afflicted odd man out, choreographers Robby Barnett and Jonathan Wolken mined the same situation for comedy: the others holding Kent upside down and screwing his head into the floor, for example. And so, with the contortions and lifts growing increasingly astonishing, “Gnomen” ricocheted between these extremes--knockabout farce with Gaspard Louis as the victim, and slow-motion lyricism with Benjamin Pring in that role.

If some of the intricate group leapfrogging in “Zoo” looked rough and even chancy, the sense of limitless prowess in “Gnomen” never lapsed. And if Rebecca Anderson looked weightless and even boneless in “Pseudopodia,” she brought solidity and comic flair to Alison Chase’s “Orangotango” (1998), a duet to music by Astor Piazzola that is new to the Southland this season.

Lampooning tango cliches seemed the basic intent, though Kent’s costume proved more mariachi than gaucho and the idea of him donning a gorilla mask before partnering Anderson wore thin despite his sudden spasms of gestural impersonation (Nixon, Travolta) and ape-walking. Much funnier: Anderson’s catalog of spitfire poses and the couple’s ability to instantly switch roles in deep backbend dips--him dipping her and then, with a sudden flip, her dipping him.

Surprising comic switcheroos of the same sort dominated another unscheduled addition to the program: the vintage ensemble piece “Walklyndon” (1971), with its string of physical jokes and a style that makes it belong far more to the realm of pantomime than dance. Physically fit actors might perform it just as successfully as the current Pilobolus company--but actors would never survive “The Hand That Mocked, the Heart That Fed” (1998), an ensemble piece by Barnett, Wolken and Michael Tracy being seen locally for the first time on the current tour.

Pilobolus has come a long way since 1971 (the first year of its existence), digesting and distilling a wide range of movement idioms until its latest works, such as “The Hand,” can call upon everything from advanced gymnastics to conventional modern dance role-playing and find performers versatile enough to meet every challenge. Here a commissioned jazz score by Maria Schneider propels a study of disintegrating group solidarity: a close-knit social unit torn apart by lust, envy and other of the so-called deadly sins.

Formal poses punctuating the work become something like a snapshot album tracing the collapse of the loving interaction dominating the opening sequence. But soon after the individual jealousies and resentments really heat up among the six characters--with Coyoc and Pring especially provocative as icons of cupidity--the choreography falls apart more quickly than the group.

Some actions do continue to spring from character motivation but, more and more, what happens seems imposed on everyone, reflecting no internal dynamic but rather the arbitrary and inconsistent priorities of Barnett, Wolken and Tracy. Like the very artfully designed final tableau, the result may be striking as movement spectacle but has long since forfeited its credibility as dance drama. And, for all the skill and energy of the cast, it suggests the major flaw in the collaborative aesthetic that Pilobolus has always embodied: Too many cooks can spoil “The Hand.”