Last night of "Day"

So. I really don't have a taste for Josh Groban, but whenever I see an article about an artist who's changing directions, I like to take a look. You never know.

And so, this morning, I'm reading music critic Nate Chinen's Times piece on Groban, and I come across this quote from the singer's new producer, the genius Rick Rubin:

"The nature of Josh's instrument is formal," Mr. Rubin explained. "And so even if it was a song that meant a lot to him, when he sang it casually, it didn't sound believable."

And I said, Thank you, genius Rick Rubin. In those two sentences, you've summed up what I thought walking away from one of Danspace Project's last presentations of Day, the well-publicized breakthrough collaboration between dancer Jean Butler (best known for Irish step dancing and her choreography and starring role in Riverdance) and choreographer Tere O'Connor (whose stature in contemporary choreography is unquestionable). I respect and enjoy both of these artists and have particular fondness for Butler who was one of my dance writing students at DTW. But I have to disagree with previous writers who have found interest in Day since its premiere in May at the Dublin Dance Festival.

Like Groban--sorry to bring him up again; bear with me--Butler has a superbly refined instrument. Like another celebrity, Baryshnikov--her creative exploration has already been compared to his--she's eager to take a chance and stretch herself beyond past definitions and limitations. In Day, you can clearly see that she brings a determined work ethic. And this is a piece that certainly requires that, demanding rapid changes in physical force and expressiveness over an unbroken 40-minute stretch. There's a driven quality, lots of stressors, tiny moves, isolations, opposing directions, steps to keep track of and properly linked despite their weirdly disparate nature. What she gets right is--no surprise--a formal precision in all things even during awkward, strained or frenzied moments, of which there are many.

A virtuoso tears down her virtuosity in a way that requires her to be...a virtuoso. Day seems to me to be a shake-it-up, break-it-down strategy for Butler--a transitional work but not, in itself, a satisfying work from the point of view of at least this watcher.

James Baker's rich, alarming soundscape jumbles together things that don't belong together, don't hook up but, through his diabolical editing, share the same space and breathe the same air. It makes you feel the need for medication and fits Day to a T. Michael O'Connor (design) and Sylvia Grieser (costume) have gone for an austerity that might or might not have something to do with the dance itself--the white translucent curtains draped across St. Mark's Church's balconies, windows and entrance; lighting that sometimes seems capricious and disordered; the plain tunic of a bottle-ink blue that beckons memories of Catholic grammar school. It might be the vivid ink-like color that made me think of perfect penmanship (and its proponents, those nuns) and suspect that Butler was as good at it as I was, back in the day.

Her dancing in Day is exacting penmanship, very contained and self-conscious. Despite the forcefulness of her motions, her energy does not project beyond the lines of the choreography and, with neither comrades nor props for help, she does not inhabit what is a very roomy performance space resonant in dance history. What you really want from Butler's penmanship is some sense of the person crafting those individual letters, what any string of them might have to say and why they're urgent.

Let us wait and see what Butler can do. I believe she can reach for more than this.