The Lyon Opera Ballet under the direction of Yorgos Loukos has long been one of the most adventurous dance companies in the world. That reputation is reinforced by its latest work: Philippe Decloufe’s wildly imaginative and unclassifiable “Tricodex,” which concludes the group’s too-brief appearance with a final performance this evening at the Kennedy Center’s Eisenhower Theater.
The company last appeared here two years ago in its radical staging of Maguy Marin’s “Cinderella,” but although the dancers wore doll-like masks throughout, the ballet was recognizable as dance.
“Tricodex” is a different matter.
Part circus, part mime, part movement jokes, it opens with the dancers in shimmering black-and-white-striped costumes lit in a way that dazzles, a scene suggestive of Alwin Nikolais’ multimedia theater. (Mr. Decloufe was at one time a student of Mr. Nikolais’.)
Props and outlandish costumes are an important part of Mr. Decloufe’s inventive work. His black-and-white-clad dancers have grotesquely elongated feet; they pound across the stage slapping their noisy feet with gusto, then slump off, bodies hunched, looking like the droll figures in Paul Taylor’s “3 Epitaphs.”
Stronger than any references to known choreographers, though, is Mr. Decloufe’s fascination with the circus, which he describes as “the richest and most popular form of spectacle.” His claim to have mined the clown’s wit and poetry rings true.
There is a child’s delight and awe in magic throughout his work, which proceeds from one fanciful scene to the next without need for rhyme or reason. Creatures with long extended arms like slim elephant trunks that wave in the air in endlessly inventive permutations are followed by a figure that looks like a vine-covered tree with palm fronds growing out of her shoulders.
Mr. Decloufe says his inspiration came from an illustrated book full of imaginary images: “various types of microbes, crawling ferns, a praying mantis, a few winged creatures.”
The artist’s fertile imagination spoke to his own: All these creatures found their way into “Tricodex.”
A couple of performers emerge on a darkened stage, faces looking out from glistening white clouds that billow and change shapes mysteriously. Three figures interact, entwining elongated pleated arms. A woman strapped to a saucer-shaped wheel swings precariously to and fro.
Sometimes the humor is broad, as in a couple of slapstick scenes for the men. In one, they fill the stage as cavemen, galumphing across the stage with long matted locks, one of them brandishing a large bone; they reappear in dancers’ briefs as a narcissistically preening chorus line, striking body-beautiful poses, flexing their muscles and batting their eyelashes with deadpan come-hither looks.
Aerial feats are among the truly awe-inspiring parts of the performance. Mr. Decloufe made an international hit with a bungee-jumping routine at the opening ceremony of the 1992 Winter Olympics.
In “Tricodex,” this acquires resonance as two women on bungee cords fly into the air and swoop alluringly over their partners’ heads. The men guide them back to earth, only to have the women soar again in soft, beautiful patterns that strike a note of magic and wonder.
Next a woman emerges from the small stage-within-a-stage that frames some scenes and, held by a harness, tumbles in swirls and parabolas to mesmerizing effect.
Only trained dancers could have coped with most of these demands, but “Tricodex” demanded more feats of acrobatics and daring than most dancers ever face. The work expanded their horizons, and it expanded ours, too.
As to the meaning of all this childlike delight? When asked what the message was, at a question-and-answer session after Thursday’s performance, Mr. Loukos answered with a smile, “There is none.”
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WHAT: The Lyon Opera Ballet in “Tricodex”
WHEN: Tonight at 8
WHERE: Kennedy Center’s Eisenhower Theater
TICKETS: $12 to $36
PHONE: 202/467-4600
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