Baye & Asa’s ‘4|2|3’ is a dystopian dance that looks at all stages of life

MATT GAL

Mikaela Brandon, right, with Megan Siepka in Baye & Asa’s”4|2|3.”

The choreographic duo known as Baye & Asa take a bleak view of humanity’s prospects in their latest dance, called “4|2|3.” This dystopian shadow play, set in an industrial wasteland, made its debut earlier this year at the Baryshnikov Arts Center in New York, and The Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers University snatched it up, presenting the piece Oct. 11-12 at the New Brunswick Performing Arts Center.

“4|2|3” makes the theme of environmental degradation seem timeless, as choreographers Amadi “Baye” Washington and Sam “Asa” Pratt base their work on an ancient riddle: What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three at night? Think carefully. The legendary Sphinx who interrogates passers-by on the road to Thebes will tear apart anyone who fails to answer correctly. (The answer is “Man,” who as a baby crawls on all fours, walks upright in his prime, and then hobbles on a walking stick.)

MATT GAL

From left, Megan Siepka (crouching), Frances Lorraine Samson, Kyle H. Martin and Nick Daley in “4|2|3.”

The scene onstage is also menacing: Soren Kodak’s set suggests an abandoned factory, with a grimy wall upstage featuring an empty window and a mysterious, sealed door. A large pipe, like an exhaust, protrudes into the space. Is this any place for children to play? Yet they do — three urchins in gray pajamas galloping on all fours, cartwheeling, or resting on the polluted ground in the first of three segments.

Act “2” features a group of dancers; and marvelous Janet Charleston, a lively veteran, dances “3” as a solo. Yet while human generations come and go, their situation in “4|2|3” never improves. These people remain trapped in a Superfund site, which only gets uglier when lighting designer Megan Mahoney hides parts of the scene in darkness. At other times, the lighting seems to scour the dancers’ skin, peeling them raw or flushing them a lurid red. The air seems poisoned with chemicals. (Think East Palestine, Ohio, or Conyers, Georgia.) Meanwhile, MIZU’s mechanical score roars and hisses dementedly.

Since they are still human, the inhabitants of this hellscape stick together. Act “2” offers images of community, when the dancers move in circles that stretch and shrink; and individuals befriend each other. When Mikaela Brandon is injured, she can lean on Nick Daley, and he will help her move her legs. A simple piggyback ride for the children in “4” evolves in complexity as the mature dancers in “2” work together to build tableaux. Carrying two dancers, a silhouetted procession appears to show the Sphinx in profile. Yet community does not bring happiness. Marching in a tense platoon, individuals look around warily, but their heads snap forward again as if commanded not to inspect their surroundings, or think for themselves.

MATT GAL

Frances Lorraine Samson in “4|2|3.”

As “2” progresses, the action becomes more violent, and it seems dangerous to be alone. Individuals take turns exploring the mysterious region beyond the door, but when Kyle H. Martin returns, he falls stricken. Frances Lorraine Samson crouches, hiding her head, while one hand snakes behind her (the dancers’ hands have minds of their own). Sitting astride the exhaust pipe, Daley shivers and claws himself. Both “4” and “2” end creepily, with images of ostracism. As one dancer stands against the wall, the others back away and stare from the shadows. When the lights dim, the group closes in.

Charleston, an exquisitely lyrical performer, becomes the focus of “3.” Though in the loneliness of old age she has time for reflection (sprawled on the floor, she poignantly recalls the children’s moves), the surroundings remain grim. Taking giant steps, she stretches and gathers herself, loosens her long hair and swoops, as silhouettes like memories appear in the window-frame. This terrific solo seems filled with potential; yet the clock has run out. Soon a clot of mourners gathers in the darkness, and a solitary figure moves toward the exhaust pipe, which, the choreographers finally suggest, is where we’re all headed.

Evidently, the destruction of the natural environment is a serious problem, and poor communities like Flint, Michigan, suffer the most. Artists with a conscience do well to remind us of the dangers and inequities that plague our society. On the other hand, who among us wants to give up the “conveniences” of modern life, some of which, like refrigeration and indoor plumbing, actually promote human health? And who believes it is fair to deny development to historically exploited regions of the globe?

Perhaps it’s too much to expect that even a brilliant dance like “4|2|3,” whose language is deeply emotional, address all sides of this issue. It may be empowering to remember, however, that Oedipus did solve the Sphinx’s riddle. The ancient story suggests that human ingenuity can solve the thorniest problems, including those posed by our runaway technology, and maybe someday human reason will triumph over greed and save us from ourselves. (See, for instance, Julian L. Simon’s 1981 book, “The Ultimate Resource”). Liberation can only come, however, when we allow ourselves to hope.

For more about Baye & Asa, visit bayeandasa.com.