The Great Chain of Being

IT IS UNUSUAL for small regional dance companies to generate the same level of excitement that groups like the New York City Ballet and American Ballet Theater generally bring. It is all the more noteworthy, then, when one of the lesser known companies presents something truly original and creative.

The Boston Ballet is currently celebrating its 20th anniversary season with just such a project--the revival of a revolutionary piece of dance and music called Carmina Burana. The work is a collection of poems celebrating spring, the bawdiness of tavern life and the complications of love, probably written by students, scholars and monks who roamed Western Europe in the 11th and 12th centuries. Carl Orff, a German composer, set the poems to music in 1937 and the score now includes choral and solo singing in Latin, German and French.

The Boston Ballet's production encloses the three scenes with a wheel of fortune which appears in the beginning and at the end, evoking the common medieval theme of man's tenuous existence in the face of fate. However, the ballet is not historical in any other sense. The style is more modern than balletic, although the women dance in pointed shoes and retain classical arm and leg positions throughout much of the hour-long piece.

In fact, the feeling driven across each minute is a modern one--a celebration of the union of body and mind and the glorification of the human spirit. The sensuous nature of the dance is counterbalanced by the singing, which is performed exceptionally well. The dance seems to work like a complex machine, each element of which is necessary for complete success. The dancers wear different-colored milliskin leotards that outline every muscle and bone; the stage is bare except for very effective lighting that is constantly changing in color. The lack of excessive costumes and props echoes the feeling that this is "back to the elements time"--a study of modern man without the artifice of modern society.

Working only with the body and emotions, the 32 dancers move in groups as the music reaches crescendoes and in pairs as it softens. In large numbers the effect is both exuberant and mesmerizing as dancers leap and turn and stretch back and forth with technical precision. The piece could, in fact, probably survive with weaker technique, since the overall effect makes it difficult to concentrate on single movements. But the composition comes closer to perfection because of the clean, sharp and careful placement of each dancer.

SUCH A DANCE must aim to hit a chord deep inside of every viewer. Carmina Burana transcends its time by becoming a tour de force, encapsulating a series of paradoxes. The dancers constantly intertwine themselves around each other's arms and legs, yet each person remains very distinct. The rhythm of the music intensifies, then plummets down to slow-motion tunes. Pushing and pulling against each other, the dancers seem to create curves like molded clay while posing in angular, geometric forms. Although Carmina Burana is definitely a lusty, almost carnal piece about the bodies and desires of human beings, many of the steps and movements imitate non-living forms, from a flower to an octopus flinging its tentacles out in many directions.

Another powerful element is the consistent control over such an ecstatic, energetic piece. At one moment the men will be carrying women over their heads or bundled in their arms; the next, each woman will be freely leaping or extending her leg. Similarly, there are periods of intense concentration--a man holding the base of a woman's calf, while she, on point, holds her other leg in a perfect attitude behind her--side by side with handstands, rolls and headstands. The entire melange of features--the bright colors of the leotards, the bells and drums of the orchestra, and the sometimes deeply religious choral music--together with the dancers' sincerity that produces a masterpiece.

The Boston Ballet has, unfortunately, made one mistake in the program. Before Carmina Burana is a disappointing 25-minute Pas de Dix choreographed by George Balanchine. Taken from a full-length ballet called Raymonda, it is supposed to highlight the elegance and precision of classical ballet--a task which, even though accomplished, isn't worth the effort. Traditional, sappy, and restrained, the excerpt is uninspiring and seems to make the dancers less careful about their technique. Although they briefly spice up the atmosphere now and then by switching the dancers to Flamenco style, the general effect is nothing but cute.

Aside from this flaw, though, the Boston Ballet has come a long way from its previous performances and reputation. Carmina Burana is for anyone who wants to be dazzled and energized.