Galloping ganglia: Random Dance studies the brain

Ravi DeepresAlexander Whitley and Catarina Carvalho in "FAR"

According to British choreographer Wayne McGregor, when 18th-century scientists dissected the body and peered into its cavities, they had a hard time locating the soul. The more they learned about anatomy, the more elusive the body’s animating spirit became.
McGregor, whose company, Random Dance, returned to the Peak Performances series at Montclair State University, on Thursday, has a similar problem. He, too, is engaged in scientific research—cognitive studies that help latter-day investigators understand how the brain makes decisions. McGregor says that participating in these studies gives him and his dancers fresh ideas for how to proceed.
Yet something is missing from “Far,” the glamorous contemporary work making its local premiere. The ghost, in this case, is the choreographer himself—the agent who must tie the fractured movements and the segments of the show together. Though continuously surprising, the piece remains unsatisfying because McGregor does not allow us to glimpse the animating intelligence behind it. The choreographer is always our stand-in for God, but this one seems so concerned with creating new material that as it emerges, he forgets to shape it into a Divine Plan. He prefers flow to structure.
In every other respect, “Far” is stunning. McGregor’s dancers are sleek and shapely, moving with fluid assurance, and above the stage hangs a dazzling object: a rectangular LED display that continually changes appearance, generating new patterns of light and shadow by responding to stimuli. Shining promiscuously like a galaxy or retreating to a single glowing point, this machine is the evening’s star performer, and lighting designer Lucy Carter amplifies its effects with tinted clouds of smoke. Ben Frost’s episodic sound score ranges widely, from Vivaldi to the sound of animals grunting.
The piece opens with a striking image: Daniela Neugebauer standing center stage flanked by women torch-bearers, with Paolo Mangiola regarding her from a shadowy vantage off to the side. She seems inclined to ignore him, but after a quick pass to get a closer look, he insists upon engaging her in a duet that sets the tone for difficult relationships between men and women. Adjusting his grip, suddenly his hands are at her throat. Yet at another point, after shrugging him off she turns and offers her hand. Eventually they seem to reach a cool accord, lying parallel to each other.
A series of solos follows, with hinged movement that tends to emphasize a particular body part—first shoulders, and then ribs. Quick, struggling encounters characterize a group section, and later, in a bit of pantomime that stands out for its naturalness, Anna Nowak chats with Mangiola trying to put him off. He responds by seizing her wrists.
A male duet seems less coercive. Although it ends before both parties are quite ready, they salute each other with a courtly bow.
The final duet is the tenderest yet. Catarina Carvalho has the space to swivel in Alexander Whitley’s loose embrace, and she willingly hangs on his back with her hands pressed to his chest. Yet this freedom, too, seems like the prelude to a departure. She fades and lies still. He watches for a moment, and then turns to leave.