Super Napatronic
originally posted: 9/28/01
Brought to you by all of us who are feeling a bit dozy this Friday morning. The list includes Sister-san and mysensationalself for sure. I don't know what Sister-san's excuse is, but I have a fantastic reason one: I saw Mikhail Baryshnikov in his underwear. Seriously! That's enough to keep anyone up at night.
I was fortunate enough to attend last night's performance of the White Oak dance company, including Mr. B, with Trailer Park Mama. One of Baryshnikov's solo pieces -- and keep in mind this is a modern dance troupe -- involved him appearing onstage dressed in a nice suit and walking around in a big circle. In silence. Occasionally he would pause in mid-movement, then continue. This went on for some minutes, and I thought, "These people paid good money to see Mikhail Baryshnikov walk around in a circle." I also thought, "And who can blame them?" Even just pacing the stage, Mr. B is the finest example of motile excellence alive.
Eventually he stopped, removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. There was some sort of clothing hook taped to the middle of his chest. He hung the jacket on the hook and resumed walking in a circle. Soon he stopped to remove shoes and socks, then resumed circling. No music, no sound, just this guy walking around. Then he stopped to remove his shirt, and we saw that there was a clothing hook taped to each shoulder blade. He hung the shirt on one of them and resumed walking in a circle. After a few minutes he took the trousers off, hung them from the other shoulder, and resumed walking in a circle. Then he reversed the process, putting the clothes back on piece by piece, and smartly exited the stage.
And that's how I came to see Mikhail Baryshnikov in his boxers. It was an absurd but riveting spectacle. And I believe that may have been the point of the piece.
I have seen grace embodied. Whether at rest or in vigorous motion, Mr. B remains always serene and relaxed. While the other dancers onstage, half his age and gifted performers in their own right, strain after perfection, Baryshnikov relaxes and lets it come to him. Some dancers whirl themselves about the stage, but he . . . seems to whirl the stage about himself. I couldn't tell you what the rest of the troupe looked like; in my line of sight there was only one person. And if that means I'm a little napatronic this morning, well, so be it. To see such mastery is to be assured of the existence of the divine. That's worth staying up late.