Drawers

Drawers: a Timely History of Briefs

Cafe Dance,

through April 8

Running Time: 1 hour, 15 min

What's revealed on the smoothly surfaced floor at Cafe Dance, in the collection of choreography and personal exploration called Drawers, is more than lingerie: It's beauty. Not that lingerie isn't often beautiful, and not that the dancers in this program don't remove or don various examples of such, but the undergarments here are almost beside the point. The more obvious point is, how do you make several bodies interact in ways that are attractive to the eye's sense of movement and design -- particularly when those bodies are moving within the constraints of music?

Dawn Davis Loring knows the answer to this question, and she translates that answer through herself and the other six members of her Mosaic Dance Body. (Davis Loring also writes about dance for the Chronicle.) The company as a whole moves confidently through several pieces set to the tunes of Sir Mix-a-Lot, Herbie Hancock, Philip Glass, and Marcos Valle, among others. It's like watching the dancers in a series of music videos, except this isn't the type of thing where the performers would actually be on MTV or VH1 or whatever if only they were good enough. No, this is where the performers and the choreography are already equal to some of the best you'd see on the small screen, but with -- à la the lingerie itself -- a certain delicacy, a more subtle evocation of rhythm and juxtaposition. At least until, post-intermission, they perform the piece "So-SIGH-uh-ty." Then you'd need a home theatre system screening highlights from some body-rockin' DJ fest to evoke the sort of abrupt and artfully constructed power-stomping that Davis Loring has synchronized to the music of Mr. Bungle.

But the program consists of more than ensemble pieces. In between the bigger group numbers, we're offered solo performers (as choreographed by Christina Jesurun) presenting their own takes on what it's like interacting with items from the feminine undergarments industry. These performances -- as if proving that brevity is the soul of both wit and lingerie -- are much shorter, more like haiku; they include spoken word and provide excellent breaks between the longer works of poetry-in-motion. They also feature the live music that more often provides diversion during interstices between the sweet kinetics here: the mellifluous saxophonics of Stan Killian.

Perhaps the best way to communicate the underpinnings of this program is to quote from the director's written introduction -- it's as clever and well-wrought as the show: "Everyone has some sort of relationship to their underwear, be it love or hate. Underwear conceals our most private areas from public scrutiny while it enhances, lifts, and separates our silhouette for public admiration. It is a reflection of who we are and who we would like to be. Chances are, you are wearing underwear right now."

Chances are, if you like dance at all, you'll really like Drawers.