Moves to inform and entertain

The atmosphere was part revival meeting, part history lesson and all energy when the locally based Lula Washington Dance Theatre rattled the stage of Cal State L.A.’s Luckman Theatre on Saturday. And although much of Washington’s choreography can be repetitive -- frenzied climaxes build to, well, more frenzied climaxes -- her 11 dancers possess assured technique, unbridled determination and soul aplenty.

Of the four works on the 2 1/2 -hour program (three by Washington along with a Donald McKayle classic), her 2008 premiere, “The Little Rock Nine,” endeavored to both entertain and inform. Unfortunately, the 25-minute piece, a tribute to nine African American students who attempted to integrate an Arkansas high school in 1957, was too heavy on the information, with Arkansas-born Washington proving unable to tell a story sans histrionics. To gospel and percussion music (on tape), as well as occasionally screechy live voice-overs (including texts from Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou), the dancers offered individual and group portraits of yesteryear’s students: dejection (bodies bent), hope (arms raised) and solidarity (hands held).

A section with chairs (a dancer’s best friend) and several emotional solos -- by Bravita Threatt, Christa Oliver and the choreographer’s daughter, Tamica Washington-Miller -- packed a punch, but the piece lacked narrative flow.

It concluded with two contemporary students, sneaker-clad hip-hoppers Jeremiah Tatum and Carvon “Taz” Futrell, going from blase to caring, but that somehow only trivialized matters. Sometimes it’s enough to let bodies speak. Quivering hands, glorious backbends and solid balances can reveal myriad truths.

“We Wore the Mask,” from 2006, adhered to the purely visceral. As Marcus L. Miller (Washington-Miller’s husband) wailed on drums, this full-throttle, 20-minute jam displayed Washington’s ability to harness modern dance moves and the low-down stamping vocabulary of Africa, with bits of ballet tossed in for good measure.

Sporting a grinning mask and a do-rag, Washington-Miller opened the piece with an inspired solo, mixing elements of Bojangles and tribalism, before she was joined by the full company. “Mask” had an improvisatory feel but, again, continued peaking to the point of overkill.

So too did “Ode to the ‘60s.” Made last year, this all-shimmy, all-shaking romp to some cool tunes of the era succeeded best with its unadulterated grooving, not the spouting of ‘Nam and assassination statistics.

McKayle’s previously reviewed four-part suite from 1972, “Songs of the Disinherited,” completed the program, with Stephanie Powell’s solo, “Angelitos Negros,” standing out as an ode to grace and grit.