Thoroughly Modern Misha

By Martha Duffy

"I'm a new-work junkie. Even if the dance doesn't turn out to be successful, I adore the process." The speaker is Mikhail Baryshnikov, the greatest dancer of his time, whose interpretations of the classical male roles set the standard for the 1970s and '80s, and probably for a long time to come. In those years the notion of this paradigm of nobility mixing it up with modern dance seemed absurd. But a closer look at the record reveals he was already seeking out alliances with modern choreographers. When Twyla Tharp created Push Comes to Shove for him in 1976, she revealed a whole new Misha: rueful, droll, an outsider trying to get in -- and just as eagerly bursting to get out.

That image has gradually replaced the tragic prince. Four years ago, having quit as artistic director of American Ballet Theatre, Baryshnikov founded the White Oak Dance Project, a small company of experienced dancers -- the youngest current member is 31, the oldest is Baryshnikov, now 46 -- to tour with a variety of modern works. Both the troupe and its honcho have thrived. In 90 cities, it has almost always been a sellout. But until last week, the itinerary had never included New York City.

The Big Apple considers itself the dance capital of the world, and mostly it's a legitimate boast. At some point every company has to take on Manhattan, with its knowledgeable, picky, I've-seen-it-all audiences and its I've-seen-it-all-a-hundred-times critics. A New York season is expensive too. So White Oak was probably wise to wait until it had shaken down and matured -- the troupe now has eight dancers instead of 14 -- before spending nearly $500,000 for a week at Lincoln Center. Any financial anxieties were quickly dispelled; the run was sold out before opening night.

The two programs reflected just how thoroughly modern Misha's enthusiasms are. The dances range from company member Kevin O'Day's first choreography to Signals, an early '70s work by Merce Cunningham that has gone through many versions. In fact, the 75-year-old Cunningham went at it again: new score, new costumes and, as always, moves that fluctuate mesmerically.

Signals is a good example of why White Oak's eclectic programming works -- and may be a harbinger of dance's future. Unlike virtually any other choreographer, Cunningham thinks in terms of neither music nor steps but segments of time. "Given 10 seconds," he says, "the dancer has to define the phrase and accent something within the time." An evening of Cunningham can be bewitching. But it is only when one sees one of his pieces alongside the choreography of others that one appreciates just how different in weight and shape his work really is. Cunningham says he created Signals after observing groupings of chairs in a Paris park: "Sometimes full, sometimes not, people come and go and converse -- only, this time, they dance." A charming dance -- one that might be set in Paris or somewhere in the enchanted ether.

Starting with Push Comes to Shove, you could call Twyla Tharp Baryshnikov's inspired biographer. Push saw him as an immigrant dancer in a new and daunting company (A.B.T.) and country, determined to assert himself, join the fun, court the girls and still deal with the fact that he is irremediably different, set apart by culture and genius. By the time The Little Ballet came along in 1983, Misha was A.B.T.'s director, and that dance was a hilarious, poignant picture of a harried boss trying to cope with a fractious company. It was the dance equivalent of Day for Night, Francois Truffaut's classic film about a movie director on location. White Oak presents the latest installment, Pergolesi, which shows Baryshnikov swinging along in a modern vein even as he reviews his crowded career.

Pergolesi began two years ago as a duet Tharp danced with Baryshnikov. Back then, it commented on the relationship between choreographer and dancer, who in this case are an exceptional match in both musicality and wit. Tharp's funny bone is never predictable; Baryshnikov can make any move look spontaneous, as if he were out there amusing himself. The piece is now recast as a solo, though for a few phrases Misha dances ardently with an invisible partner -- Twyla's way of reminding people that this is still her show. For the rest, Baryshnikov seems to be musing on his life as a performer.

You don't have to be a dance scholar to get most of the jokes. There are lightning tours of the classics: the distinctive, flattened arm gestures in L'Apres-Midi d'un Faun, several quotes from Swan Lake, including the Prince's defiance as his mother points imperiously at her wedding ring -- "No, I will not marry any of these boring girls" -- and so on up to Paul Taylor's Airs. As White Oak continues to tour (Washington; Cleveland, Ohio; Atlanta; and Minneapolis, Minnesota, are among the upcoming cities), Misha will vary the jokes on whim.

Alas, not all of White Oak's New York offerings attained this standard. Mark Morris' Mosaic and United was particularly disappointing because it was Morris who choreographed several of the distinctive works that gave the group its early repertory. Morris can usually be counted on to grab an audience right away and never let go. When he errs, it's by going over the top. Mosaic is a rarity for him; it is plain dull.

Even more painful is Joachim Schlomer's Behind White Lilies, a trendy bit of Euro-junk full of pretentious claptrap involving obscure religious rituals. As for Kevin O'Day's Quartet, there are Tharpian moments -- O'Day danced with Tharp for several years -- but also a lot of bustle and humor that is his own. He looks like a good investment for the company.

This season's emotional center, however, was the latest alliance of Baryshnikov and Jerome Robbins. Set to Bach cello music, A Suite of Dances is $ also a solo, a moody exploration of man and movement, much of it autumnal in tone. Though less frequent than the partnership with Tharp, Baryshnikov's relationship with Robbins is deepening. A Suite is the choreographer's first new dance in five years. "For a while, I didn't feel in condition; I couldn't feel my body," says Robbins, 75, who looked spry and acute in rehearsal. "But Misha wanted to try something, and I want to work with smaller forces now. I started listening to the music. It began to open up." Musing on his work with Baryshnikov, he adds, "It's given me a real booster. I can't think of anyone better to work with. If I think it's too dark, he lightens it -- and vice versa. A great, great artist."

The two men's friendship was cemented in 1979, when President Carter asked Baryshnikov to put on a performance at the White House. A prestigious offer, but it meant working on a tiny stage with a ceiling so low that Misha-size leaps were impossible. Nor did the White House provide a stage crew. "I felt sorry for him -- he had no one," says Robbins. "So I became a kind of stage manager and kept my eye on everything -- sound, costumes and all." He also threw in a new short ballet, set to Chopin.

Baryshnikov was grateful for this quiet boost from a master whose work always looks like a million, whether on Broadway or Pennsylvania Avenue. As for dancing Suite, he says, "I think it's all about Jerry -- a man leaning on one leg and listening, wondering, 'O.K., what's next?' There's irony and urgency and also a bittersweet quality. This is a man of intelligence, a man of the world, a thinking man." But lest that serious thought prevail, he adds with a twinkle, "Sometimes I think Jerry's inspiration comes out of his beard."

All in all, White Oak's first New York foray was a success. What sets this troupe apart from other groups organized by celebrities is the seriousness and intelligence of its programs and the fact that the ensemble comes first. While Baryshnikov may have solos, he appears in other dances -- Signals, Lilies -- in small roles. The audience leaves feeling that it has had a revealing glimpse into modern dance, not into a superstar's mirror.