High-Class Hybrids

Between the formal, intricate patterns of ballet and the exuberant disarray of folk dance lies a vast artistic chasm. Some attempts to bridge this gap have been notably successful--the cowboy ballets of Agnes de Mille, for example, or the large-scale ethnic dance companies sent around the world with in creasing frequency by almost any nation anxious to make its own culture known. One of the most dazzling of these troupes is Mexico's Ballet Folklorico, which just completed its seventh U.S. tour with a one-week stand at Manhattan's City Center. Once again it convinced audiences that hybrid artistry can create a language all its own.

Founded in 1952 by Amalia Hernandez, a former dancer who remains its director and sole choreographer, the Folklorico fills the stage and the eye with the splendor of a national heritage that is a blend of Indian and Spanish elements. The company's lavish costumes, liberally splashed with gold and feathered beyond a peacock's fondest hopes, would stun the senses even if they were worn by mannequins. The 90 traveling members of the troupe--dancers, singers and instrumentalists--are considerably more than that.

The Folklorico's 55 dancers came to the company only after training in the disciplines of classic ballet, whereupon they went on to unlearn many of its basics. Their movements forsake the glide-and-leap patterns of ballet in favor of a staccato stomping in which the heel, rather than the toe, becomes the pivot for the action. Unlike Russia's Moiseyev folk ballet, whose dancers' athletic leaps are relatively close to the virtuoso tradition of formal dance, the Folklorico's characteristic moments find the troupe bouncing in position like so many bright-colored jumping beans.

Much of the company's repertory is tied, perhaps too closely, to relatively recent aspects of Mexican culture, notably the 19th century mariachi music of the French-Spanish upper class. Some of the numbers look to those with long memories, a little like the big musical bit just before, say, Ramon Novarro and Dolores del Rio could have met by moonlight in some hypothetical Latin extravaganza. Far more striking are the pieces in which Choreographer Hernandez has reconstructed, mostly out of ancient manuscripts and drawings, something resembling the ritualistic processions and dances of Mexico's Indian prehistory.

Death Throes. To a pounding, throbbing cacophony of percussion and the shrill tooting of a wooden flute, dancers in extravagant costumes celebrate legendary rituals, their stiff-legged gyrations seeming, like some ancient idol, only half alive. Dancer Jorge Tyller, a Yaqui Indian, reenacts with awesome control the death throes of a shot deer, his tortured posturings bringing to mind some kind of primitive sacrifice as seen by the victim.

At home in Mexico City's lavish Palacio de Bellas Artes, the Folklorico draws capacity audiences that manifest lively interest in their country's cultural past. On its worldwide tours, the company serves as a colorful reminder of the surprising glories that can stem from artistic and cultural impurity.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.