January 17, 2005

Synetic's 'Bohemians,' Straying From Their Deity
By Peter Marks

Upholding its vigorous standards for expressive gesture and aerobic workout, Synetic Theater dances its way through human history in "Bohemians," a new, swiftly paced meditation on faith and science and the warring impulses in man between serving God and supplanting Him.

In 60 sure-footed minutes, the company, guided by its artistic director, Paata Tsikurishvili, moves with kaleidoscopic gusto from vignette to vignette, offering up a kind of hypnotic dance-play about our ambiguous moral universe. A few of the images and settings of the piece, devised by Tsikurishvili and choreographed by his wife, Irina, may seem overworked, especially to those knowledgeable about modern dance. But the sensuous intensity of the narrative and joyful commitment of the performers are bound to win you over.

Catherine Gasta portrays the Nature Spirit in Synetic Theater's "Bohemians." (Raymond Gniewek)

"Bohemians" is something of a departure for Synetic, now amalgamated with Classika Theatre and presenting the show in Classika's storefront space on a street of restaurants in Shirlington. The Tsikurishvilis tend to steer the company's nervy physicality in the direction of adaptation; previous productions have been based on everything from Shakespeare to the epic poetry of their native Republic of Georgia. Here, for the first time in Synetic's history, Paata is composing a story on his own, and if his themes sometimes get caught in eddies of muddiness and pretension, the staging itself is always breathlessly swirling.

The virtually wordless piece -- performed to a driving, eclectic soundtrack by a cadre of Synetic stalwarts that includes Greg Marzullo, Catherine Gasta, Irakli Kavsadze and Irina herself -- is one of the most exuberant and beautifully executed the company has produced. Starting at the dawn of Creation (in the beginning, it seems, was the undulating body), the work journeys through a melange of "ologies": biology, theology, psychology, technology. A scene of mating microbes gives way, for instance, to depictions of familiar stories from the Old Testament, such as Adam and Eve and the Tower of Babel.

The tale of Cain (Marzullo) and Abel (Philip Fletcher) is evoked with particular flair. The stalks of grain grown in fertile fields by Abel are played by other actors in the company, and when Abel returns to harvest his crop, the ensemble members (all dressed in black) are cut down and baled in a lyrical mimetic demonstration. The unhealthier plants of his envious brother are conjured by gnarled hands and fingers, which are made to wither, dramatically, at Cain's touch.

Cain's eventual crime reinforces a motif for the evening: humankind's ever-increasing resistance to God. (The title seems to suggest the idea of man as a wanderer, cast in that role after Adam and Eve were tossed from paradise.) Still, the subjects of these preliminary sequences cannot escape the feeling of being something warmed over. Not until a segment called "The Age of Kings" does "Bohemians" take a truly intriguing turn: The episode compresses centuries of blood spilled in the quest for power into one nifty contest. A crown is dangled from an opening at the back of the stage and the seven actors engage in a spirited struggle to possess it.

The competition -- the crown changes heads in a dizzying round robin -- triggers a crazed cycle of war and assassination. Quicksilver events give rise to a bevy of violent tableaux: a phalanx of archers, the poisoning of a monarch, the beheading of another. The piece next jumps to the modern day, to a pounding percussive beat and the more mundanely cutthroat concerns of the workplace and urban living.

A final sequence, detailing man's efforts to impose technology on conception and birth, is an ironic riff on the primordial prologue: Now it is man, and not God or even nature, that is in charge. These ethereal, impressionistic glimpses of humanity's "progress" have a scattershot quality, however, and the effect of a lot of the high-minded rhetoric is to remind you of lofty-sounding ideas and arguments you've encountered on many other occasions.

The more rewarding perspective comes, as it often does in Synetic's work, on the level of the ebulliently physical. The athleticism of the piece, the teamwork on display in the rapidly evolving stage pictures, draws you powerfully into a world other than your own.

The play takes place in the most primitive of environments; Anastasia Ryurikov Simes's set consists of a few black screens and walls with cutouts for strategic entrances. The lighting by Cherie Siebert is simple, stark and effective, and the recorded music rolls over the audience in fierce and moody waves.

The cast is uniformly excellent, so good-looking it would make for an arresting magazine cover, and Irina's gemlike choreography is all sharp and polished facets. Even when the author goes overboard, it is possible to happily lose yourself in "Bohemians."

Bohemians, created and directed by Paata Tsikurishvili. Choreography, Irina Tsikurishvili. Sound, Irakli Kavsadze; technical director, Jan Forbes. With Jodi Niehoff, Anna Lane. Approximately one hour. Through March 6 at Classika Theatre, 4041 S. 28th St., Arlington. Call 703-824-8060 or visit www.classika.org.