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Critical
comments on Bill Evans' choreography and performance:
“Chicago
Tap Theatre’s loving tribute to 65-year-old modern-rhythmic dance
barrier-breaker Bill Evans is an experience of intimate and
symphonic proportions….His breadth of experience in ballet, modern
and tap dance has molded Evans into a uniquely lyrical-percussive
artist. And while
fusion might be an easy buzzword to slap onto his merging of styles,
he more accurately melds each discipline into the other so that only
movement—with no titles attached—remains.”—Lucia Mauro,
Chicago Tribune
“Bill
Evans is an enduring and influential modern dance mainstay.
What a treat to see a master choreographer such as he in the
full maturity of his performing career.”—Wayne Lee,
Washington Times
“Evans
knows how to entertain, and he does it in such a distinct and
personal way that by evening’s end every fan should feel almost
like a friend….He is quite simply a master of his craft, and if
anything he gets better with age.
He does it all and it is this kind of versatility that allows
him to go it alone for an evening with such success.”—Helen
Forsberg, Salt Lake Tribune
"One
of the best choreographic forces to touch the American Dance
scene." -- Walter Terry, Saturday Review
"Evans
has a characteristic fluency in his choreography that enables him to
work in a variety of
moods." -- Anna
Kisselgoff, New York Times
"Evans'
perception of character is witty, economical and precise." --
Don McDonough, New York
Times
“Evans
danced with power, grace and masterful control—not to mention the
incredible stamina that allowed him to forge through the two and one
half hour program with the energy of an entire company.”
Everett Evans, Houston
Chronicle
"It
would be naive to believe that the entire history and spirit of a
nation could be captured on stage within the limitations of two
short dances, yet that is the impression one gets on seeing
the Bill Evans Dance
Company." -- Julinda Lewis Williams, Dance Magazine
"His
dance is very much about movement itself, exploring a full sphere of
action rotating around a strongly defined axis. What makes the
dances so satisfying to watch is that Evans brings each movement to
its logical conclusion, completing the thought before
executing a smooth transition to the next idea." -- Kathryn
Bernheimer, (Boulder, CO) Sunday Camera
“Danced
with absolute magnificence….Evans’ wonderful communicative gifts
could accomplish anything.”—Byron Belt, Long Island Press
“His
dancers are excellent, fearless technicians and theatrical
performers….The company’s rambunctious comic flair and each
member’s individuality are used to good advantage.”—Linda
Small, Dance Magazine
THE
WASHINGTON POST
Alan
M. Kriegsman, Dance Critic
Will the real Bill Evans please stand?
This amazing dancer-choreographer from Utah, currently in
residence at George Washington University, seems to have more
disguises than Sherlock Holmes, all wondrously credible and
diverting.
His
solo recital drew an appreciative audience of several hundred to the
Marvin Theater Tuesday night. The
program consisted of eight highly contrasted dance monologues, all
but two choreographed by himself.
Evans, a long-time member of Utah’s Repertory Dance
Theatre, now directs his own troupe in Salt Lake City and is a
frequent guest artist in this country and abroad.
Evans’
eclecticism, his penchant for satire, the splendid independence of
his limbs and his knife-point shifts of tempo and dynamics all put
one in mind of Paul Taylor. But
Evans’ sleek body lines and way of moving are entirely his own, as
is his remarkably deft, resilient technique.
To
music ranging from Bach to Glenn Miller to Indian ragas, Evans’
choreographic idioms shuttled from poetic abstraction to ironic
portraiture to frisky parody to trance-like introspection.
As a dancer, he also moved with equal ease from the flippancy
of Matt Mattox’s “Opus Jazz Loves Bach” to the feverish
agitation of an excerpt from Anna Sokolow’s “Lyric Suite.”
Evans’ own inventions seemed smart and fluent, but they
left one wondering how he might fare with larger compositional
structures. There was
no question, though, about the abundance of his talent.
SAN
DIEGO UNION
Anne
Marie Welsh, Arts Critic
Bill Evans has been teaching as a regent’s lecturer at UCSD
since last week. He has
solid reputation as a choreographer and teacher.
Of the more than 100 works he has created for ballet and
modern companies coast to coast, only three had crossed my path
before last night. Those
three group pieces had intelligence, wit and good nature to
recommend them, though nothing so distinctive they suggested an
Evans style. Last night
Evans performed two of his own solos at Mandeville Auditorium.
As a dancer, he is something special, with a style very much
his own. He moves with
a sensuous abandon and rhythmic subtlety uncommon among male
dancers.
Evans
has performed for 20 years, first with ballet, then with modern and
finally with his own companies in Seattle and Winnipeg.
His own technique looks neither modern, classical, nor some
eclectic mix of the two. It’s
as if he re-thought the whole impulse toward movement for himself
and arrived at some rather startling conclusions.
Like Isadora Duncan and Erick Hawkins, he seems to center
himself in the solar plexus and let the energy move in continuous
waves outward. There’s
nothing sharp, angular or aggressive in his dancing, nothing
particularly contemporary, not a drop of salesmanship.
When
you watch him, your eyes go not to his handsome face or lovely feet,
but to his breastbone, the vulnerable, merely human spot that seems
to be guiding him.
His
dances were different in character—a tap number that became a
character dance, a primal-modern work based on Indian classical
dance. “Pop’s
Rag,” set to Scott Joplin piano rags, was a soft-shoe with taps
full of rhythmic invention that never slavishly followed the
music’s syncopated beat. Evans
has the familiar tap steps down cold—time steps, buck ‘n wings,
windmill spins. He
dances organically, though, with the nuances of his arms movements,
his spiraling torso as interesting as the talking taps.
In the end, the number seems a nostalgic tribute from one
kind of dancer to those of another age.
“Tin-Tal”
was set to music for sarod and tabla by Mahapurush Misra.
Here Evans let all his subtle virtuosity show.
The work began on the floor, moved broadly through space and
closed with a long, spiraling passage in which the hands fleetingly
spoke that gestural language of the mudras.
Contrasts between large and small-scaled motions, fast and
slow, up and down, sustained interest in a piece as minimal as its
score. Like a dervish
or a prophet, Evans absorbed himself in the spirit of movement
without the fakery prevalent in so much pop-primal choreography.
Instead of hypnotizing the mind, he deepens its awareness.
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