Isadora Duncan, who carries the rather inflated title of "Mother of Modern Dance," is undeniably associated with setting her art form on a more natural, unconstrained path. But her legacy was not so much about movement as it was about inspiring a movement that stressed personal and artistic freedom. Martin Sherman's 1990 play, When She Danced, removes a pivotal cross-section of Duncan's life - her invincibility despite age, political upheaval, poverty and emotional cruelty in 1923 Paris - and probes it to find the ineffable allure of artistic genius.
TimeLine Theatre Company's bitingly elegant production, running through December 20, creates an aura of faded yet timeless beauty. Even the provocative opening scene, with Duncan and her manic, self-involved husband Sergei Esenin passed out naked on a divan, is composed by director Nick Bowling with a graceful sophistication -- like Bronzino's Cupid and Venus. Scenic designer Keith Pitts unselfconsciously drops us into Duncan's worn velvety flat, while costume designer Bill Morey pays homage to bohemian Paris and the dance icon's love of Greek revival-style garb.
Though billed as a comedy and deliciously witty, When She Danced is really an anguished portrait of a tragic life buoyed by the unwavering belief in the fortifying power of art. Jennifer Engstrom embodies all the messy and charismatic contradictions of Duncan's unfettered existence without resorting to overwrought theatrics. She's neither campy nor cartoonish - just a very real middle-aged woman coming to terms with her choices and fragile desire to leave a legacy. Surrounded by enabling admirers, a rakish Russian husband and a profoundly introspective interpreter - all speaking different languages -- Engstrom's Duncan clearly lives her creed that language has nothing to do with understanding the essence of poetry. Duncan seemed to harbor an inner quality, presence perhaps, that allowed viewers to see new things in themselves.
Interestingly, the San Francisco-born Isadora Duncan - though credited with ushering in movement that originated in the Solar Plexus and pedestrian ways of moving that mirrored the inherently ordered rhythms of nature - is probably best remembered for her scandalous life (lovers that ranged from sewing machine heir Paris Singer to Italian actress Eleanora Duse) and legendary death (a broken neck caused by her long scarf getting caught in the tire spokes of a moving automobile). Her two young children and their nurse were killed in a freak accident when the car they were in rolled into the Seine River. Duncan, who set up schools in Germany and Russia, was later labeled a Bolshevik and had to relinquish her American citizenship.
What remains of her dancing tend to be wispy black-and-white films of her traipsing about bare foot like a wood nymph in flowing Greek tunics with her hair hanging loose. Though she inspired followers so devoted they took Duncan as their surname, the artist balked at her dances being codified (a.k.a. stifled). By throwing off her corset and literally letting her hair down, she was making bold statements about the larger arena of personal choice. And more than anything else, she wanted to validate one's ability to feel.
Duncan led what appeared to be a glamorous life. Yet it was fraught with excess and destitution; ecstasy and pain. These dichotomies weave their way through Sherman's wonderfully non-gushy theatrical tribute. And his play is not restricted to telling only Duncan's story. Miss Belzer, the guarded Russian-Jewish interpreter (a touching, multifaceted portrayal by Janet Ulrich Brooks), has her own powerful back story, as does Greek pianist Alexandros Duncan Eliopolos (a tender Alejandro Cordoba). Patrick Mulvey delivers an intriguing portrait of Sergei Esenin - cruel, needy and manipulative.
Each character is linked by their inexplicable bond to a woman engaged in the most ephemeral of art forms, dance. But, in the end, we're left realizing that Duncan did not do steps. She walked, and in that walk, perhaps she was able to tap into an invisible force that drives the human soul to craft its own personal poetry.
