Next wave? Cutting edge? This simpleton’s celebration of ear-plug music and hack choreography? For some reason there are no strobes in “Billboards”; in every other way, it’s the next wave of 20 years ago. Three of the four choreographers–Charles Moulton, Margo Sappington and Peter Pucci–have turned out works indistinguishable from one another, each a pounding onslaught of dancers jabbing their feet, their pelvises and their buttocks everywhere they decently or indecently can. Laura Dean’s ballet has pretty moments, with its lines of dancers in silver-white costumes wheeling and sailing and circling, but it’s not a convincing piece of work. This was music she stooped to conquer.
So did the Joffrey. The company has been having a rough time financially; it’s hard to begrudge it a gold mine. But how depressing to see a dance audience in 1993 burst into excited applause at the sight of a ballerina doing an arabesque. At the very least, let’s stop calling “Billboards” a ballet. Call it a commercial and be done with it.
