On the range

Wild West's post-modern cowboy and Indians

by Johnette Rodriguez

WILD WEST is at the Carriage House Theatre June 6-8.

No one who lived through the '50s could have remained unscathed by the fixation -- in books, TV and film -- on "cowboys and Indians." And if, like choreographer Sally Mayo, your grandparents migrated to Texas by wagon train in the 1850s, you might even be inclined to research and communicate that lifelong interest in your dance work. The result is Mayo's premiere of a powerful eight-movement piece, Wild West.

Wild West begins with Mayo and company (Deirdre Morris and Frank Campisano) seated campfire-style in a softly lit downstage corner, speaking esoteric but emphatic sign-language to each other. Behind them, musicians Steve Jobe and Alec Redfearn create eerie wind whispers and howls by blowing across clay pipes and glass bottles and later through drones on Jobe's hand-made hurdy-gurdy and Redfearn's accordion.

As the "Natives" of the first so-titled section rise and begin to slowly move, they strike classical sculptural poses that also suggest the daily life of the hunt: they lunge, they freeze as they listen, they stop to check the progress of the sun, they walk carefully so as not to break a twig. The dancers are in reddish-brown, full-body leotards as they step dreamlike through a sequence of balanced stances. At one point Campisano's hands shadow Morris's body, following its curves without ever touching her, and the suspense of that not-touching is much more dramatic than actual partnering would have been. The closing sequence of this section, however, has the "natives" holding each other, arm in arm, as they confront the audience with frightened stares, snarls and sneers.

In the video segment which follows, "From Sea to Shining Sea," composed of re-mixed images of the dancers' movements in the first section, it becomes evident that the "natives" are not just the humans on the North American continent but the beleaguered buffalo. Kudos to costumer Lauren Keach for the black hoods with large eye holes, used in the video to underline the buffalo motif.

Next up are "Settlers," the three dancers stepping out in the unmistakable semi-bowlegged gait of the Europeans who settled in the West. The dancers waltz alternately in pairs and in a lovely trio, with a gentle interplay of dependence on one another. In a later section called "Cowboys," a duet by Mayo and Morris has a similar tender and poignant feel to it. These romantic views are undercut, however, by an angry quote from the video soundtrack which asks, "How the hell can man discover land when he got a brother there waiting for him?"

Three of the sections in Wild West focus on historical/ mythical figures: Annie Oakley, Sitting Bull and Buffalo Bill. Sally Mayo mimes Oakley's shooting techniques, as her prowess with a rifle is described from B.A. Botkin's A Treasury of American Folklore. She puts one leg through a stirrup that is attached to a rope near the back wall of the stage (reminiscent of Oakley's daredevil riding-and-shooting) and does a swinging, twirling, twisting and flying routine that looks death-defying in its own right if she were to hit that wall.

Deirdre Morris straps a buffalo-and-bone breastplate and buffalo-hide shinguards over her leotard to become Sitting Bull as well as the buffalo with whom he shared a name. She carefully sets out bleached bones in a circle and then defines a circle unto herself, as she becomes a whirling dervish, turning faster and faster until she staggers back to the bones, which she cradles gently as she lies next to them. Morris is intensely focused in this solo and riveting to watch.

Frank Campisano is Buffalo Bill, introduced by the actual text of his Wild West shows. In Mayo's vision, Cody's hucksterism translates to Bill as a vamp -- black leotard with black-fringed red leather vest and chaps and . . . black toe shoes. Campisano bourees with the best of 'em and engages in a campy High Noon shoot-out with Morris.

The funniest moments in Wild West are the satire of Buffalo Bill and a section called "Wild-ism." To the chant of "racism, imperialism, capital-wildism," the three dancers come out, aprons and concession-trays over their leotards. From jars of Jif and loaves of Wonder Bread, they slap together peanut butter sandwiches and distribute them to the audience in ways that become "wilder" as the improvisation progresses, and we are left wondering, "Is this the ultimate symbol of white America's contribution to civilization?"

In Wild West, Mayo has balanced weighty political commentary with clever whimsy and lyrical movement. She and her dancers have captured a sprawling subject in the Wild West's very moving and memorable vignettes.