BECKET — At Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival this week, legendary choreographer Alonzo King’s company — Alonzo King LINES Ballet, celebrating its 40th anniversary — presents a program that illustrates, powerfully, his decades-long investigation into the flow between the physical and the metaphysical. He’s interested in how the physics of dance work, but he’s also interested in the poetic possibilities of the human body. There’s nothing cookie-cutter about the supreme artist/athletes in his troupe; individualism is king, but the sense that a being’s uniqueness will result in more unified humanity is King.
The first, shorter part of the program is composed of four excerpts from longer dances stitched together and titled “Four Heart Testaments.” In the 2020 “Grace,” from “Pie Jesu,” longtime company dancer Adji Cissoko picks her way from upstage to downstage, stork-stepping on her gloriously long legs while her torso and arms wave and ripple. This physical multiplicity — one or more parts of the body extending out, with impossible length, while other parts of the body curve, whip and furl with impossible speed — is one of many familiar King-isms seen throughout his dances. When Ilaria Guerra enters, soon after, she underscores another breathtaking aspect of King’s phrases: despite the velocity of many of the movements, they aren’t blurred, they are instead etched into space.
While this juxtapositional physicality is, in King’s choreography, usually imbued with a creamy texture, there are some purposely jarring images, as in “Writing Ground,” the excerpt from the 2010 “Over My Head,” set to a gorgeous recording of Kathleen Battle singing the traditional song of the title. Madeline DeVries, another star in King’s galaxy, bumbles about on awkwardly tottering, turned-in legs, or flops over like a rag doll at the end of her rope, but presses on nonetheless.
The two men, Shuaib Elhassan and Michael Montgomery, in the opening section, meanwhile, demonstrate other King specialties, the pirouettes in which the gesture leg moves, as if restless, from one position to another, while the rest of dancer’s body maintains an eerie eye of the storm, so the turn somehow goes on and on. King has staging trademarks as well. His dancers will often stand off to the side, watching another dancer, usually with easy camaraderie; in the third section, however (an excerpt from the 2008 “The Radius of Convergence”), this motif is infused with uncertain drama as four men frame, like a corps de ballet, a now-cool, now-agitated James Gowan.
Often, when the observers do begin dancing, it’s not necessarily to form a traditional duet, or an ensemble, but rather the effect is of a series of overlapping, thrillingly virtuosic soloists. In the fourth section, the excerpt from the 2007 “Rasa,” Elhassan, Gowan, and Montgomery take this to high-octane heights and then end, simply, wittily, just sitting — spent, their hands to their heads.
After an intermission, King’s 2019 “Azoth” is shown in its entirety (it’s about 50 minutes long): Pace yourself. This tour de force is another visual feast, but, over the course of the evening, there is so much to take in, that the so much can feel like too much.
It is, certainly, familiar King territory, which means that (to me, anyway) along with the occasional sense that there is an over-reliance on the fireworks-out-of-nowhere-displays, there is also the frequent pleasure of the outright, undeniable, otherworldly beauty of his images, as performed by these spectacular dancers. With Charles Lloyd’s and Jason Moran’s now-bluesy, now-jazzy score, the cast of 12 move through an eclectic series of sections, some of which flow seamlessly together, while others appear abruptly — or tantalizingly, you decide. The lighting and “image technology” of Jim French and Jim Campbell casts the dancers in evocative shadow or in softly glowing warmth.
The title, as the program note explains, refers to the element “believed to be the essential agent of transformation in alchemy,” and though much of the ballet is abstract, there are indeed hints of transformation. Some shifts are sartorial — the dancers have several, often subtle, all handsome, costume changes, designed by Robert Rosenwasser. The most overt, but mysterious, possible narrative unfolds in a long sequence in which Lorris Eichinger battles unseen forces, thrusting at the air with spiky limbs, but is ultimately caught up, and cradled, protectively, by the others. He crouches off, into the wings, his fate uncertain. At the end of their equally curious duet, Cissoko and Montgomery, via King, reverse the all-too-usual order of the gendered pas de deux, she tall and leading him, also crouching, by the hand, off into the opposite wings.
ALONZO KING LINES BALLET
At Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, Becket, through Sunday. Tickets start at $55. 413-243-0745, www.jacobspillow.org
Janine Parker can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.