David Dorfman "Prophets of Funk"
There’s a moment in "Prophets of Funk", a tribute to the music of Sly & the Family Stone, where the dancing reaches the exultant heights of profound silliness of the music. A woman, alone on stage, alternately shimmies and shakes like a combination ’60s go-go dancer and an epileptic. But these moves alternate with precise, neo-classic moves.
It’s a perfect accompaniment to the innovative band, which helped revolutionize rock by integrating funk, just as the group itself was the first chart-topper to integrate races in its makeup.
There are several moments when "Prophets" rises to such heights, such a short while later, when, in a duet, the woman takes a man, who is a stand-in for Sly himself, on one shoulder and carries him around as though he were a sack of feathers.
Unfortunately, these moments came toward the end of the piece, and they were followed by much of the choreographic schizophrenia that characterizes the overall feel of the evening.
Note to Dorfman: If you’re inviting members of the audience onstage, which happens at the end, and some of them are doing better moves than yours, that could be a problem. The night I saw the performance, which continues at the Joyce through Jan. 29, two women were perfectly imitating -- and even improving on -- the moves of the eight company member dancers. One man was doing some hip-hop that was really amazing.
The problem with "Prophets" is that Dorfman sometimes allows the song’s feel and lyrics to motivate him, but at other times, he’s almost willfully warring against them.
In "Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey," he has male and female dancers of different races alternately push each other out of the way. It’s a great way to illustrate the lyrics. Here, racial understanding extends to racially mixed couples. It’s also a lot of fun to watch.
In "I Want to Take You Higher," on the other hand, the dancers perform nice very nice moves, including cartwheels and break dancing (always a crowd pleaser). On the full-stage screen in back of them, there are precise color streams.
It’s always easy to Monday morning quarterback a choreographer, but for this ultimate paean to recreational drug use, I wanted some groovy, wavy lines, hands and feet sweeping back and forth in psychedelic motion; similarly, the colors should have been kaleidoscopic, not precise.
It’s that kind of push-pull that made the evening ultimately frustrating. The songs, nearly all of them recognizable, pour out one after another, in seemingly random fashion. Most of the hits are here, although why he picked several obscure album cuts and left out "Hot Fun in the Summertime," "Everybody Is a Star" and especially "Family Affair" left me scratching my head.
And why on earth did he leave the two biggest hits (and best songs) by the band, "Everyday People" and "Dance to the Music" for the end, when the dancers mixed it up with the audience?
The dancing properly incorporates street moves and more precise modern and neoclassical. But this proto-funk band’s music is all about the butt. The dances needed more booty shaking. "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)" would have been the perfect vehicle for some serious funk moves, but it also was left out of the evening.
The evening starts with Dorfman himself, now in his 50s and filled out, doing some funky moves of his own. It’s a cute introduction. The entire company streams down the aisles dressed in neo-hippy garb, looking like the cast of "Hair".
From there, we get various pairings and movements to a jukebox full of music. Some of the dancers break out into singing themselves, and there’s one number where three men variously lip synch. Although the singing was not bad, it throws the dancing off balance.
In the most purely enjoyable number, Kyle Abraham exuberantly exhorts his fellow dancers to show him a move. Every time, he yells out, "Oh yeah! That’s my favorite! I call this ..." and gives it a silly name. It’s great fun if a bit too drawn out.
The evening could have used more of that built-in spontaneity. As it is, "Prophets of Funk" proves once again that rock music is a platform that modern choreographers should be utilizing more than they do.
But, as we’ve seen in works like Paul Taylor’s "Company B" (the Andrew Sisters), Twyla Tharp’s "Deuce Coupe" (Beach Boys) and especially New York City Ballet’s sublime "Within You Without You" (George Harrison), the great pop music of the twentieth century is an endless fount of inventive choreography.
I hope Dorfman continues this exploration, only adding that he listen harder to it before he puts his dancers through their paces.
David Dorfman’s "Prophets of Funk" runs through January 29 at the Joyce Theater, 175 Eighth Avenue. For info or tickets call 212-242-0800 or visit the Joyce’s website
