Like other ancient epics, the Mahabharata teems with stories of gods and men, war and sex, conflict and resolution that lead to more of the same. The Ragamala Dance Company’s “Children of Dharma” selects a few of those stories to suggest cycles of harmony and disharmony in continual tension. But while the telling is expert and elegant, the tension isn’t very high.
The 75-minute work, which had its New York premiere at the Joyce Theater on Wednesday, focuses on three characters: the god Krishna, embodiment of nature and balance; Draupadi, the mother of one warring clan, who is lost in a rigged game of dice that leads to a war; and Gandhari, mother of the other clan, whose 100 sons are killed in the fighting.
Ragamala, a Minneapolis-based company led by Ranee Ramaswamy and her daughters Aparna and Ashwini, handles all this with its characteristic care and excellence. The sets and lighting, by Willy Cessa, are simpler than those of other Ragamala productions but effective enough. Hanging strips of fabric conjure a forest; projections on that fabric suggest temples and palaces. The recorded score is lovely, with Krishna’s flute braiding with violin and vocals, counter melodies and rhythmically intricate drumming.
In an early duet, Aparna and Ashwini are models of sisterly complementarity. One crouches while the other stands, then vice versa; even when the choreography quickens, they move together in the perfect unison of siblings who have been dancing together their whole lives. Ranee, as Gandhari, applies her gravitas and high skill as a silent storyteller to a mother’s grief. Garrett Sour plays Krishna with divine calm, balancing with one flexed foot raised, accepting devotion, lurking in the background. The remaining three dancers join in crossing patterns of well-constructed balance.
In all this, though, the drama in these stories — the rage and bloodshed and lust — is awfully sublimated. We hear about strife in voice-overs, but these sound like too much like the narration for a dutifully dull BBC documentary. (A contrasting section of Tamil poetry, whispered and untranslated, retains more mystery.) The show opens with the rumble of Tuvan throat singing and the piercing dissonance of Bulgarian harmony, but most of what follows is a smooth surface untroubled by such disturbances.
Previous Ragamala productions have shared this limitation. The company’s interpretation of the Indian classical form Bharatanatyam emphasizes composure over intensity, achieving a correctness that often lacks the blazing clarity that classical art can have. Life, like nature, may be cyclical, but in the theater, resolution has only as much force as the sense of conflict that precedes it.
Ragamala Dance Company
Through Sunday at the Joyce Theater in Manhattan; joyce.org.
