High Lonesome

REVIEWS

Commercial Appeal

“Set to the music of Grammy-winning pop musician Beck, the piece knocks you out of your seat, sits you up and knocks you down again. Drawn from McIntyre’s own experiences growing up, the story is told through the interactions of the dancers. Four appear in the beginning as the first of five songs from Beck’s album “Odelay” cranks up loud and rhythmically. They splash from behind a curtain of white strips, wearing white costumes…The dancing was a beautifully complex display of emotions through McIntyre’s blend of elegance and athleticism.”

Berkshire Eagle

“What we remember is the facile partnering and sense of community, the pell-mell athleticism, and the ricocheting from carefree social dance en pointe to cartwheels and fluid hip hop.”

Dance View

“McIntyre turned to a highly different kind of score, five songs by the rock musician Beck, for “High Lonesome,” which opened the program. Created in 2001 for Ballet Memphis, it bears the line “this is about my family” beneath its title, and while it is not populated by identified characters, one can certainly read the relationships. Orbiting around a feisty, curious, ready-for-anything youth (Jonathan Jordan) are a quartet of slightly odd, unpredictable (presumably) family members, each costumed very specifically in gleaming white.

The non-nonsense, uptight mother (Dawn Fay) has her hair tightly pulled back and wears a prim white cocktail dress, evoking the late ’50s or very early ’60s, and white gloves. “Dad” (Garrett Ammon) is more casual, a lean, lanky figure in T-shirt and chinos. The focal figure’s bespectacled sister (Anne Mueller), if that’s what she’s meant to be, reeks of neurosis and wears tight white pants and a chic sporty jacket, while the presumed brother (Jonathan Dummar) wears overalls. They are a tightly choreographed quartet, entering with exciting vigor upstage through a curtain of white streamers, through which they later vanish and reappear. We get to know them before Jordan makes his entrance, so we are already privy to the world that surrounds him. They seem to function to rein in his open-hearted, trusting ways. His introductory solo, to a song entitled “Jack-Ass,” is a smooth skein of movement, whether he is executing pirouettes or rolling along the floor. He pauses to sit cross-legged a few times. The quartet returns, boxing him inside a tight square. And dance punchy unison phrases, as though limiting his horizons, closing off his possibilities.

Much of the solo and duet material for the others features tense, combative movement. The mother brims with resentment and pent-up emotions. The sister seems angry, perhaps confused unsure of her place. McIntyre creates vivid portraits without burdening them with too much characterization, and skillfully arranges evocative situations through his use of spacing, lighting and suggestion. When Jordan partners Fay, there seems to be an unspoken understanding, as though he knows some sad secret she’s keeping and wishes he could come to her aid. Both dancers give resonant performances; Jordan’s springy jump and liquid phrasing were exceptional. We last seem sitting cross-legged as the lights slowly fade; having either escaped his family for real, or perhaps found his own inner escape.”

Idaho Statesman

“McIntyre brought his brilliantly expressive ballet-based movement and blended it with light touches of hip-hop and modern dance.”