Max Pollak and RumbaTap in “Viis”

by Eva Yaa Asantewaa

You know the drill: Someone welcomes us, introduces the show, points out emergency exits and reminds us to stifle our cellphones. But I heard a new twist at Max Pollak’s Joyce SoHo gig: “No text messaging and no receiving of text messages during the performance.” Text messaging? Is there anyone left who still pays attention to the show?

Luckily there was not a single outbreak of high technology at RumbaTap’s performance of Viis, but the evening-length dramatic work, created by Pollak in collaboration with dancer Chikako Iwahori, could have benefitted from clearer correspondence--and I don’t mean email.

I came to Viis with some misgivings about its prospects; unfortunately, those feelings were not dispelled. Inspired by Pollak’s visit to Finland, Viis is set in an undefined place where the Santeria orishas of Cuba and Nordic characters from the ancient Kalevala epic are one and the same and sometimes find themselves tap dancing to jazz. But the Finnish characters and storyline get lost in performance, and the cursory explanation in the program notes don’t help us find them.

This conceptually ambitious gambit rides on Pollak’s world-class reputation. For years he’s been rightly lauded for soulful, seamless integration of tap dance with Afro-Cuban rhythms and chant, and for the extravagant way he gives his entire body over to the music, his dancing and the ground. He is truly a master performer who commands our attention in this work as in others.

In Viis, his hearty crew of musicians--Paul Carlon (tenor sax/flute), Andy Milne (keyboards), Dimitri Moderbacher (baritone sax, flute, clarinet), Alby Roblejo (percussion), Gottfried Stoger (alto sax, flute) and Ileana Santamaria (vocals)–arrive in full force, packing the expected pleasures. There are bright spots in the dancing: in particular, effervescent Lynn Schwab perfectly cast as the flirtatious, self-pleasuring Oshun/Louhi’s daughter character and DeWitt Fleming, Jr. as Oggun/Ilmarinen cutting loose in a tap challenge number with Pollak.

Instead of casting longtime dance partner and collaborator Iwahori as the angry, forbidding witch/Oya character, Pollak could have challenged her to loosen up her stony demeanor and body, and tune up those inexpressive feet. I keep wanting to see more of Iwahori than we usually do, hoping that it’s there.

Near the end, Pollak makes an attempt to render the Finnish aspects of the story more palpable, but by then it’s too late and too cartoonish. This work argues for separation of powers–tap over here, folklore over there–a shame because Pollak’s motivation was a longing for unity among diverse cultures, among all people. Unity is a fine goal, but first let us all be clear about who we are. Identity comes first.

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(c)2007, Eva Yaa Asantewaa