Child-Friendly ‘Steps’ Makes Some Whimsical Leaps of Imagination

One visually arresting moment in Loretta Livingston’s “Two Thousand Steps,” given its premiere at the Orange County Performing Arts Center Friday night, stays in the mind like a picture postcard.

Amid several giant cutouts of naked legs, lowered like massive oaks in a move reminiscent of Monty Python years, a lone dancer--the vivid and diminutive Keena Smith in old-fashioned acrobat gear--negotiated twists and turns by scrambling atop what looked like a large wooden beach ball. The other seven dancers, dressed in mechanic’s overalls, paraded across the stage holding models of airplanes and catching miniature skydivers who drifted down in tiny parachutes. It seemed a bit like a cartoon “English Patient,” enhanced by the set, by James P. Taylor, which looked like a nouveau classical desert--square columns painted with a cloud-like design towering on either side of the stage and a jagged mountain skyline stretched low under a vast empty sky at the back.

This section, one of six in this one-hour work, was called “The Age of Change.” Livingston’s program notes revealed that the center, in commissioning the piece, wanted to “open the world of modern dance” to a new audience, presumably young people (it was part of the center’s Imagination Celebration event). Accordingly, “Two Thousand Steps” does have many hallmarks of children’s theater, and from the sounds of young laughter Friday night, was particularly accessible in this regard. The choreography was full of wide-eyed peering, broad physical comedy, cute pantomime and, entertainingly, a rousing game of musical chairs.

Sporadic, disembodied narration--in Livingston’s airy, story-time voice--had something to do with the history of dance and ways of watching performance, stated in the most poetically generic (and sometimes confusing) terms. In a section titled “The Past,” bright white, 18th century dresses were lowered from above (shades of several more complex Jiri Kylian ballets), and after a quick onstage change, women bounced around holding towering headdresses, while men in frock coats danced vaguely like ship captains.

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Then, boom, a sudden shift took the piece to the modern dance revolution--at least in the narration, which talked about incorporating gravity. Coming on the heels of the baroque-style dancers, it was a strange leap, particularly since gravity was actually very big in the baroque era. At any rate, the idea of modern progressions was explored only in the spoken word and with a few symbols, like the bare feet. This was clearly an alternately literal and abstract pastiche of historical moments in dance history, taking off from notions that appealed to Livingston.

Industrial dollies (the kind you find at Home Depot) wheeled dancers around from time to time. There were spurts of uplifted lyricism and springy leaps, and lots of running (shades of Paul Taylor in “Esplanade” mode) from the occasionally ragtag ensemble, a pickup company for this commission. A whimsically paint-spattered pretend-machine on wheels gave directions, at one point inviting the audience to stretch in their chairs.

In the end, one of the strongest elements of “Two Thousand Steps” was the spirited string score, composed by Murielle Hamilton and masterfully performed on tape by the Chautauqua Quartet. Sounding like off-center baroque one minute and switching to marches or a melancholy mood the next, the instruments took off vividly at each turn, establishing an atmosphere more strongly than the dance.

With each act taking about half an hour, and an intermission almost that long, this work seemed designed for young attention spans. Although short dances can delight adults too, this one was slight. A sense of whimsical lightness can so easily turn into a somewhat precious naivete.