After intermission at Divas of Performance, the high priestess of the choreopoem came with fresh gifts for her true believers -- and with a ceremonial pretension worthy of her high ministry. Two divine dancers, Mickey Davidson and Imaniye Payne, added sublime movement to her words. With scant new poetic material, the ethereal choreography was needed to stretch Shange's latest to a full 30 minutes. Large patches of Spanish, French, and lists of historical figures deepened the mystery but not the meaning of all we saw in Beneath The Necessity of Talking. Ntozake Shange receives and wears her priestly robes with regal dignity, and the dancers' costumes evolve provocatively from brightly-colored tropical ornaments to functional camp uniforms.
The kernel of something very special is there. Already, we catch haunting evocations of the slaveship ordeal ("is this heaven yet?") and the plantation experience ("act like a nigger"), twisted into a revolutionary passion and resolved with a memorable benediction. But the essence of this new poetic voyage needs to be extracted from its trilingual fog and grown to full maturity. If Shange could interrupt her sacred trance and take a peek at The Diary of Black Men, she might catch a hint on how to proceed.
