Havoc

Originellement appelé “Havoc in Heaven”, la chorégraphie de Bill T.Jones ne fait pourtant pas fi de la violence intrinsèque à notre société, entre lutte et pouvoir. Les danseurs sont déchirés entre leurs individualités et l’appartenance à un groupe.

Mr. Jones was choreographically turbulent throughout the program. Struggle itself appeared to be the theme of “Havoc,” which received its New York premiere. Created in 1990 for the Berkshire Ballet in Massachusetts, it was originally called “Havoc in Heaven.” Although heaven is no longer in the title, there is still havoc on stage, and John Bergamo’s percussive taped score drums away like a call to battle.

“Havoc” pits two dancers against each other. The movements given Mr. Aviles require him to hop and scramble like a goblin, imp or wild beast. He also leads a small group (Odile Reine-Adelaide, Maya Saffrin and Andrea Woods). His opponent is something of a loner. Cast in this role, Sean Curran took assertive stances, and his ferocity suggested that he was digging deep into the stage with his footwork.

The two men are occasionally locked in conflict. At other times, each seems the other’s alter ego. And there are moments when all the dancers are pulled on and off stage, as if by a gigantic magnet. Finally, everyone departs. Yet Ms. Reine-Adelaide’s imperious demeanor was a hint that if this power struggle continued, she might be a third force with which the men would have to contend.

Whatever allegorical significance Mr. Jones intended his choreography to have was not clear on a first viewing. Yet its sheer intensity made the piece compelling rather than puzzling.

The fact that its import and outcome were ambiguous may also say much about Mr. Jones’s outlook. None of his dances came to a tidy or glibly comforting conclusion. Nevertheless, just as he avoided sentimentality, he also avoided cynicism by implying that the capacity to accept uncertainty is a form of courage.