Crutchwork
Bill Shannon needs more weight
by Marcia B. Siegel
Bill Shannon made a brief appearance in Boston during Dance Umbrella's 1997
International Festival of Wheelchair Dance, where he demonstrated his invented
way of overcoming his hip disability by dancing on crutches. Last weekend
Shannon was back to open Dance Umbrella's 2000-2001 season as the
choreographer, star, and presumed director of something he called The Art of
Weightlessness. The show misfired in so many ways, I could only think it
must have been a work in progress.
More than 15 minutes after curtain time, the Copley Theatre went dark and after
a pause a man appeared, slowly ignited a fistful of incense sticks, and wafted
his way through the stage to his DJ's nest. He played some moody modern jazz.
Shadowy figures in anoraks entered through the auditorium doors and crept up
the steps to the stage. Still in the dark, they groped around with flashlights
that splayed out aimlessly. One person with a suitcase and a water bottle
propelled a skateboard using a pair of crutches like oars.
Forty minutes later the show came to a full stop. The audience, mystified,
understood it to be over only when Shannon appeared and held out his arms for
the applause. But this was just the cue for an encore in the form of another
number, which also ended two or three times before the house lights went on and
the performers came out to be introduced by Shannon for a question-and-answer
session.
In between these sketchy beginnings and endings, the seeds of a variety
entertainment were scattered and swept away before they sprouted. Shannon did
two solo numbers that showcased his skills. Unable to depend fully on his legs,
he uses specially designed crutches as extra limbs. He can transfer his weight
among the four appendages so smoothly and rhythmically that he looks as if he
were on a moving walkway. He swoops and moonwalks in space-covering circles.
He'll jump up all of a sudden to freeze on the crutches or pedal his legs in
the air. He can spin on them or use them to whiz even faster on a skateboard.
The gliding technique he's developed resembles the kind of swing dancing that
skateboarders do as they bop to the beat in their headphones along the streets
of New York.
Shannon's companions in this show included DJ Richie D. Tempo, who spent most
of the time crouched behind his equipment in the dark, engineering extra-loud
jazz and rock accompaniments. Hip-hop dancers Fernando Barreto "Reveal" and
Cornbread presented a tentative challenge dance, sussing each other out with
spongy circling steps, then tossing slow-motion rolls and spins at each other
and finally meeting softly and stepping around shoulder to shoulder. Tony Bonz,
a slight guy in a headcloth, specialized in fast spins where he balanced on any
part of his body that was attracted to the floor. Kym Murphy, the only female
in the ensemble, tossed in balletic steps that bounced up into handstands. She
and Shannon did a brief and inconclusive duet.
I think Shannon must have been trying to give the piece an artistic framework
-- the plight of the homeless maybe, as indicated by the ghostly intruders at
the beginning and his agonized departure through the auditorium after a scuffle
with a dancer who snatched one of his crutches. There were other moments when
he waxed "expressive," gesturing dramatically and sagging on his sticks. But
these attempts at injecting pathos into the show felt extraneous.
Shannon seems torn between two kinds of theater: the concert dance presentation
with a "serious" theme and the knockabout, impromptu staging of street-dance
pyrotechnics. (Local hip-hop stars the Floorlords joined the show on Saturday
night, emphasizing the informality of the occasion.) He performs a lot in New
York's loft theaters, where things don't have to be overly professional, where
a certain amount of raw ineptitude is even cultivated. But at the Copley,
The Art of Weightlessness looked tentative and uncomfortable rather than
improvisationally inspired or purposely naive. Perhaps the performers were
intimidated by the theatrical setting and the responsibility of opening the
season's most important dance series. But then, Dance Umbrella didn't position
them to advantage either. Dance Umbrella brings us so many diverse and offbeat
attractions -- too bad it hasn't come up with some imaginative alternatives to
the standard theater set-up.