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DANCE REVIEW
Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra UC Berkeley Chamber Chorus King Arthur
September 30, 2006
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King Arthur Reigns By Janice Berman
You've heard the expression "uncrowned king"? Well, head over to Berkeley's Zellerbach Hall this weekend and you will see an unkinged crown, courtesy of Mark Morris, a monarch among choreographers. The show is King Arthur, and it's having its U.S. premiere at Cal Performances.
The golden crown pops up periodically as King Arthur's stand-in. Morris has dispatched him, along with the plot, while retaining the songs — words by John Dryden — from Henry Purcell's 1691 opera. The result, according to the program notes, is what Morris calls "a sort of vaudeville.'' Morris' own Mark Morris Dance Group blends — if something this brilliantly danced can be said to blend — with fabulous singers from the English National Opera who actually know how to move.
Mhairi Lawson and William Berger Photo by Peter DaSilva
The performers wear wildly mixed contemporary clothes (designed by Isaac Mizrahi, a frequent Morris collaborator), with goofier accents evoking the Middle Ages, albeit more Junior Birdman than Sir Lancelot. It's a bit like "Monty Python's Spamalot," and a lot not. The only things you can take seriously here are the quality of the movement music, so appropriately framed by Mizrahi's getups and Adrianne Lobel's scenic designs, all lit by James F. Ingalls. The music (or musick, for this is a dramatick opera) is played by the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra on period instruments, with the UC Berkeley Chamber Chorus adding its rich harmonies from the pit. The whole is conducted by Jane Glover.
What's it all about? Well, since this is vaudeville, we can say it's about two hours. We would also note that its skits make it sketchy. Not thin, but not gathering itself to a climax that brings the audience to its feet — an unusual state of affairs when Mark Morris is in charge. And yet King Arthur is a total delight.
Following an enchanting introduction ("Hither This Way," sung by soprano Gillian Keith, a winged sprite in a sweater), there are musings on war and love, with partners' arms curving to describe hearts. There's a menagerie, with puppetlike animals (the giraffe is particularly dear) gamboling through. It being Mark Morris, there's a scene with simulated (at least, seemingly simulated) sex, but no nudity — The Hard Nut party scene, squared. And there's the "Frost Scene," remarkably funny yet touching, beautifully sung by the Cold Genius, baritone Andrew Foster-Williams (who is wedged into a vintage refrigerator); and, in purest tones of gold (to match that crown, now perched atop the fridge), Love, who is soprano Mhairi Lawson.
 as the Cold Genius Photo by Peter DaSilva Anyone who's seen and relished Morris' other early-music ventures, particularly L'Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato and Platée, will feel on familiar turf. Yet it will also feel completely different. For one thing, the dancing seems here to take place in a crowd. The singers are, to be sure, integrated with the dancers in a way that has at length been remarked upon. There's more linear movement than usual, partly to scoop up and incorporate the singers, and partly as a reflection of the melodic lines of the songs. But there's also a vivacious, circling maypole dance that owes a debt not only to Morris' folkdance roots and what one suspects is significant authenticity, but also to George Balanchine's Union Jack. Warmly boosterish, it feels British through and through, rendering Purcell regnant. Morris wears his crown easily — and shares it magnanimously. (Janice Berman is a freelance writer and editor who writes frequently about dance for The San Francisco Chronicle. Previously, she was editor in chief of Dance Magazine.)
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Mark Morris
