PARSONS COMPANY MAKES DANCERS FLY (REVIEW)

The Parsons Dance Company has the power to squeeze giggles out of seen-it-all audiences, to disturb with Brave New World images, to amaze with feats of physical and technological magic, and most of all to convey the joy of being in a body.

The internationally-acclaimed company performed Thursday night at Academic Auditorium before an inexplicably small audience of fewer than 175 people.

The concert began with "The Envelope," one of choreographer David Parsons' signature works. Seven curiously hunched figures in black and dark glasses shuttle an envelope from one to another, an odd scene set to Rossini's stirring music. They seem both anxious to receive and get rid of the envelope, but no matter what it always reappears.

At a master class Wednesday night, rehearsal manager Liz Koeppen explained that Parsons created the work in distress over how much paper-pushing life requires.

The dance is at once funny and a demonstration of the company's agility and, with its occasional screams and an outburst of singing, shows its willingness to create its own conventions.

"Sleep Study" is a gently humorous exercise in horizontal choreography set to the languorous music of Flim & the BBs. Seven slumbering dancers in pajamas slowly begin moving into familiar sleeper poses. The movements soon become tandem interplay until the dancers finally end up in a somnolent dog pile. "Sleep Study" reminded how quirkily endearing we are.

More suppleness was on display in "Strange Humors," a robust pas de deux by bare-chested male dancers Jason McDole and Henry Jackson.

In "Takademe," Jaime Martinez danced energetically to music consisting of unaccompanied voice and tongue clicking.

The final number before the intermission was the chilly and fuzz-free "Rush Hour." Seven dancers dressed in work uniforms charged robotically about the stage to darkly percussive music. Infrared lighting effects lent a cold otherworldly atmosphere to the piece.

The dancers all seemed to have somewhere to go but no sense of a destination. The dance ends with one of the dancers flailing like a toy with its wires crossed.

Watching "Caught," you might believe the amazingly versatile Parsons dancers also can fly. Solo dancer Koeppen created the effect by timing her leaps to the flashes of a strobe light under her remote control. The dance never fails to astound audiences. This one applauded Koeppen loudly.

The finale was "Nascimento," a lyrical springtime dance set to the sensuous music of Brazilian singer Milton Nascimento. It was joyous, with couples in colorful dresses and shirts spinning, leaping and sweating until finally ending up in another dog pile.

That may be a Parsons trademark, bodies collapsed upon each other, supporting and being supported.

The cliche is that music is the universal language. In David Parsons' hands, dance transmits meaning just as clearly. It is a shame so many people missed it.