New York Times <br/><br/>

DANCE REVIEW | COMPLEXIONS CONTEMPORARY BALLET<br/>

Ballet and African Steps, Delivered at Warp Speed November 23, 2007 <br/>

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By CLAUDIA LA ROCCO<br/>

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In preparation for “The Peace Project,” a new program presented by Complexions Contemporary Ballet during the second half of its Joyce Theater stint, the company’s artistic directors, Dwight Rhoden and Desmond Richardson, asked the participating artists, “What does peace mean to you?” <br/>

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My (unsolicited) answer: the opposite of the movement Mr. Rhoden, the resident choreographer, typically devises. The mix of ballet vocabulary, modern techniques and African steps is familiar, but the extent to which Mr. Rhoden packs — and overpacks — phrases, cultivates warp-speed delivery and hyperextends every possible hip jut and arabesque is, thank goodness, something special to Complexions. <br/><br/>

The eye is so overwhelmed that long before this overlong program concludes with snippets from “Anthem,” a 2003 ballet created in response to the events of 9/11, all you can do is stare blearily at the stage, praying that each whiplash partnering sequence or gratuitous split will be the last.

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And it’s not just Mr. Rhoden. The choreographers selected for “The Peace Project,” including Uri Sands, Juan Rodriguez and Kimi Nikaidoh, fit all too seamlessly into this exhausting package. <br/><br/>


In this sense Complexions is the perfect Thanksgiving week dance company: The eye is gorged, just as the stomach will be through the weekend. If only Mr. Rhoden could offer post-holiday workouts.

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These dancers are like superheroes, and it was startling to be reminded of reality through a cameo by Carmen De Lavallade, a lithe but mortal dance veteran.

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The company’s ranks are swelled by the magnetic Mr. Richardson, who has danced on the world’s grandest stages. Sadly, at this point it is hard to remember how grand he can look. Watching him lend — and obfuscate — his talents in the service of Mr. Rhoden’s fussy, frantic vision is the dance equivalent of having watched the dazzling basketball player Kevin Garnett molder with the Minnesota Timberwolves for so many years.

It is enough to bring tears, the kind offered by the dancers as culmination of the moody, portentous “Tears,” by the Complexions balletmaster Jae Man Joo. “Many times,” his program note informs, “tears punctuate the time between being really unhappy and feeling good again.” My eyes were dry by the time I hit Eighth Avenue. <br/>