Following Lincoln Through History
By GIA KOURLAS
Published: July 16, 2010
When Bill T. Jones was 5, as he is fond of reminiscing, Lincoln was the only white man he was allowed to love unconditionally. The ramifications of such a statement run deep, but in “Fondly Do We Hope ... Fervently Do We Pray,” Mr. Jones has created a pedantic production inspired by Lincoln — overly emphatic in terms of theater and breezily limited in terms of dance — that is less forceful than force-fed.
Ruby Washington/The New York Times
At the same time, “Fondly Do We Hope,” performed by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company on Thursday night at the Rose Theater as part of the Lincoln Center Festival, has been tightened significantly since it was first shown last September at the Ravinia Festival in Highland Park, Ill.
Just as the piece is easier to read at the Rose Theater, the rock, folk and gospel music, composed and arranged by Jerome Begin, Christopher Antonio William Lancaster and George Lewis Jr. — is more distinct. Bjorn Amelan’s set, which includes transparent fabric that wraps around the stage, fares slightly better. (It’s more of a lampshade than a shower curtain.)
Jamyl Dobson, the narrator, introduces a variety of people by way of mini-biographies: Mr. Jones, Lincoln, a soldier born in 1975 and a woman, born in 1939, who “can’t stand to think about how the government throws her hard-earned money away.” We also witness a debate concerning slavery, immigration and personal freedom.
But the talking never seems to stop in “Fondly Do We Hope,” raising a question about what world Mr. Jones, who just won a Tony Award for “Fela!,” would rather be a part of: theater or dance? His direction doesn’t make a resounding case for dance, which is frequently relegated to a second stage extending from the main one like a jetty or veiled behind drapery.
Choreographically, it’s repetitive and slickly cheap: in quick spurts, dancers wind and unwind in corkscrew patterns, using the momentum of curving legs or straight arms to etch exaggerated shapes in space.
Mr. Jones alienates his audience with a heated sentiment and then undercuts it with a line like — referring to himself — “He is still surprised that he never stops believing in great men, though he keeps it to himself.” It’s hard to swallow; of late, Lincoln has become a victim of commodification — featured in a Geico ad and the subject of books like “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.” Instead of focusing on what Lincoln stood for — or truly questioning it — Mr. Jones’s production just contributes to the static.
Just as the piece is easier to read at the Rose Theater, the rock, folk and gospel music, composed and arranged by Jerome Begin, Christopher Antonio William Lancaster and George Lewis Jr. — is more distinct. Bjorn Amelan’s set, which includes transparent fabric that wraps around the stage, fares slightly better. (It’s more of a lampshade than a shower curtain.)
Jamyl Dobson, the narrator, introduces a variety of people by way of mini-biographies: Mr. Jones, Lincoln, a soldier born in 1975 and a woman, born in 1939, who “can’t stand to think about how the government throws her hard-earned money away.” We also witness a debate concerning slavery, immigration and personal freedom.
But the talking never seems to stop in “Fondly Do We Hope,” raising a question about what world Mr. Jones, who just won a Tony Award for “Fela!,” would rather be a part of: theater or dance? His direction doesn’t make a resounding case for dance, which is frequently relegated to a second stage extending from the main one like a jetty or veiled behind drapery.
Choreographically, it’s repetitive and slickly cheap: in quick spurts, dancers wind and unwind in corkscrew patterns, using the momentum of curving legs or straight arms to etch exaggerated shapes in space.
Mr. Jones alienates his audience with a heated sentiment and then undercuts it with a line like — referring to himself — “He is still surprised that he never stops believing in great men, though he keeps it to himself.” It’s hard to swallow; of late, Lincoln has become a victim of commodification — featured in a Geico ad and the subject of books like “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.” Instead of focusing on what Lincoln stood for — or truly questioning it — Mr. Jones’s production just contributes to the static.
