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IMPRESSIONS: The 92NY Future Dance Festival (Program A)

By Henning Rübsam
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Published on May 14, 2025
Cristina Camacho's "Good Grief." Photo: Steven Pisano

Future Dance Festival 2025

92NY Center for Culture & Arts

Harkness Mainstage Series, Buttenwieser Hall at The Arnhold Center

Program A: Friday April 11 at 7pm

Program B: Saturday April 12 at 2pm (Separate review)

Two programs at the 92NY make up its Future Dance Festival. Young dancemakers selected by a curation panel show their work in the newly refurbished Buttenwieser Hall, the performance temple of the 90-year-old 92NY dance department. On Friday evening, the many friends of the performers create a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

Tiffany Mangulabnan in Seyong Kim's The Moon Reflected in the East Sea. Photo: Steven Pisano

Barefoot Tiffany Mangulabnan, clad in a formal white blouse and black pant-skirt, walks in relevé as the sound of rainwater gives way to meditative string music. None of her movement, choreographed by Seyong Kim, feels rushed. On this journey named The Moon Reflected in East Sea, Mangulabnan’s inward focus alternates with her determined survey of the space. A wide second position facing upstage lets energy travel through her body. Mangulabnan then sits with open legs, facing front on a diagonal. Balletic and early modern dance movement performed with skill and a sense of calm make the spectator feel safe. Mangulabnan transitions easily between a Graham-esque floor prayer and chaîné turns without making these familiar movements come across as derivative. Before she leaves, the dancer opens her hand, as if sowing seeds, which hopefully anticipates what’s to come.

Marianna Koytsan – Neta-Kinetics presents Thermocline featuring the choreographer with Jenya Romanovich. One wears black pants with a light blouse, the other white pants and a dark top, so the two dancers look like they’ve switched blouses. The fluid partnering has me wondering about yin and yang, but the delivery is casual. A memorable moment occurs when the performer with the dark blouse holds a handstand, and the other gets in front of her right side up. Thus, a light creature with independently moving arms and legs seems to float in mid-air. Later, the same dancer holds a headstand for an impressively long time, while the other tries out some break-dancing floor moves. Here, while thinking of the work’s title, I can detect a difference in temperature. In the end, however - as Yosi Horikawa’s score turns to jungle sounds - both performers rock on their backs with their limbs pointing upwards. Are they dying bugs?

Bret Easterling in his TUMAG Epilogue. Photo: Steven Pisano

Bret Easterling’s solo TUMAG Epilogue shows him as a makeshift alien with goggles, a glitter facemask, and a white hood. Though mostly robotlike and stationary, the solo is not without humor. A momentary White- Swan arm and back fluidity precedes a butt wiggle. A one-legged “run” in one spot ends when Easterling collapses on the floor. He gets up again, stretching and contorting. Briefly, he faces the audience, as if to ask a question, then he turns away, and darkness swallows him.

Emily Aslan and Maya Lam in Aslan's Dint. Photo: Steven Pisano

Dint begins with choreographer Emily Aslan walking from the wing toward centerstage while she carries Maya Lam. When she lowers her, Lam starts to fall; and Aslan catches her repeatedly before she lets Lam help her in return. The two trust one another. Both wear grey pants, light blouses, and socks that let them glide on the floor; and when they travel through space, they do not limit themselves to one form of locomotion. Lam stands upright atop Aslan, who moves slowly on all fours; then Lam folds her body, and lies on her partner’s back. One intricate lift after another proves that these two dancers master the art of partnering. They explore the space, and help propel one another crawling, walking, or lifting. Aslan lies on her back and helps Lam float above her by supporting her ever so gently with her feet under Lam’s butt. What could read as a gymnastic gimmick is performed with tender purpose, and creates poetry. The dancers do not always operate on the same level. One might be on the floor while the other is on her feet, but they always relate to one another spatially. Aslan, who must be exhausted from all the lifting, curls up, and Lam briefly surveys what might be in store for her on her own, before she gently nestles herself onto her stalwart partner.

Cristina Camacho's Good Grief. Photo: Steven Pisano

Cristina Camacho’s ensemble work Good Grief, for nine dancers clad in casual street wear, changes the mood by introducing Hip-Hop. The fabulous young dancers Malik McCullough, Mael Tima, Quill Huntley, Mekhi Johnson, Caitlin Marks, Gabrielle Hostler, Zoe Anderson, Alexa Villega, and Chanel Jack enjoy themselves in lots of inventive movement combinations. Sometimes the group breaks the unison format; and while much of the dance faces front, it thankfully does not do so always. After the group splits up momentarily, the four dancers left on stage welcome back the others, who presumably caught a couple of deep breaths in the wings. A short floor section briefly recalls a Laban-Bartenieff warm-up exercise rather than street dance. Enough dynamic changes, a circular pattern, and a sense of humor carry the piece. Starting and ending the work with dancers facing different diagonals creates the idea of a visit---and an enjoyable one, at that.

Zina Zinchenko in Omri Drumlevich's Far. Photo: Steven Pisano

Blisspoint LLC follows with Far, danced by choreographer Omri Drumlevich and Zina Zinchenko. The dancers dressed in black fight a New Age score, and at times look desperate to escape the constraints of the droning musical accompaniment. No doubt these dancers are accomplished, but their relationship remains frustrating, because they never even touch one another. A final backward spiral lets them come together for a brief touchless spin around one another, only to be catapulted out by a seemingly centrifugal force.

Michael Greenberg in Margot Gelber's Only What You Take With You. Photo: Steven Pisano

Dancer Michael Greenberg gets caught in a spotlight. He must have come from a party. His suit and dress shoes are still in place, but his bow tie hangs loosely undone around his neck, while his partly unbuttoned shirt flops out of his trousers. He must have cut a striking figure, before he went on his binge. Choreographer Margot Gelber sends Greenberg on a lonesome journey of after-party blues in Only What You Take With You. Greenberg commits himself to a fearless performance, rolls on the floor, takes off his shoes, and seems comfortable as long as no spotlight catches him. A disjointed, jazzy score by Anthony Braxton sets the mood. Once Greenberg works out that he indeed does not need anything to be free, the music changes to Marvin Gaye’s I Heard it Through the Grapevine. In the end, with his suit jacket flung over his shoulder, Greenberg gets caught in the spotlight once again, and retreats into the dark.

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