The movement rivets, but the ideas wander

“Blind Date,” a 90-minute dance-theater work by choreographer Bill T. Jones, is a meditation on patriotism and the conflict between enlightenment and anti-intellectual, consumerist and religious values that Jones believes threatens America today. We know all that perhaps more clearly from the choreographer’s program notes than from the work itself.

Presented Friday by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company at Royce Hall as part of the UCLA Live series, the piece is full of action, images and speeches, with music ranging from Bach to Otis Redding.

Before the work began, key ideas were projected in English, French, Russian and Chinese upon screens hanging above the stage. These included a definition of deism (“religion should be reasonable”), an excerpt from a military essay about the future of war (“The distinction between ‘civilian’ and ‘military’ may disappear”) and the assertion that “the greatest human crimes have been committed in the name of religion and the name of God.” It’s not clear who’s keeping score, but surely two world wars, Stalin’s collectivization programs, Mao’s Cultural Revolution and Pol Pot’s genocide in Cambodia -- none of which were religious -- contribute a significant number.

Fortunately, the finely honed dancing of Jones and his 10 dancers kept most of the piece riveting. Jones’ opening solo included sharply defined gestures that powerfully underscored his remarks. Erick Montes had a galvanic floor solo that included spastic contractions that flung him into the air. Wen-Chung Lin danced an arresting martial arts-flavored solo, as an old man, on video, sang a patriotic Chinese song.

The company danced with the same clarity and precision of gesture. But two group episodes spoke especially to bedrock concepts. In one of them, one dancer after another shouted “Me!” and fell forward to be caught by the others before he or she hit the floor. The sequence illustrated how innate human response can spontaneously create a sense of group or community.

On the other hand, in another section, what began as a kind of simple game or disagreement between two women -- Asli Bulbul and Maija Garcia -- escalated into a major conflict as the two were increasingly egged on by the others. So there it was: how groups form and how they take sides.

The turning point away from sympathy for the work for at least one observer was a later sequence in which a ghetto teenager was pressed to take a job dressed as a chicken to promote Quack-a-Dack hamburgers, then enlisted simply because a military recruiter was wearing a shinier uniform. This was a condescending fantasy that derailed serious consideration.

Ducks, however, were a recurring theme in the piece. A row of them appeared as if in an arcade game on a screen above the stage. Later, large cutout ducks, wounded and bandaged, hung from the rafters. Jones wheeled one across the stage singing the gospel hymn “Walk With Me, Lord.” A military drill sergeant, actor Andrea Smith, even fell on his knees to recite the Lord’s Prayer in a Donald Duck voice. All this was a bit heavy-handed.

Just before the ending, Smith also punctuated a list of deaths from terrorist attacks, natural disasters, the AIDS epidemic in Africa and other medical crises with shouts of “Praise the Lord! Hallelujah!” It wasn’t clear what the point was here, what these events had in common, besides human death, much less with anyone’s god. But by then, the piece had spun out of focus.

Daniel Bernard Roumain created the score. Zimbabwean Akim “Funk” Buddha was the vocalist. The barracks-like set was designed by Bjorn G. Amelan. Peter Nigrini designed the video projections. Robert Wierzel lighted the piece sensitively.

Jones revised the work after its 2005 premiere at Montclair State University in New Jersey. It could use more pruning.

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chris.pasles@latimes.com