Mark Morris Choreographs the Deaths of Socrates and Jesus

The Mark Morris Dance Group brought a pair of serious, austere ballets to UC Berkeley's Cal Performances last weekend. It started with Socrates, first presented in 2010, which is set to a three-movement, 35-minute work by Erik Satie from 1918 about the the Greek philosopher. I have long read about this 1918 composition which is usually described as "unclassifiable," but had never heard it before.

The chamber work for piano or small ensemble and voice(s) was originally commissioned by the Singer sewing machine heiress Princesse de Polignac, a fabulous lesbian living in Paris who hosted a music salon. Besides Satie, she commissioned and premiered works by local composers such as Fauré, Debussy, Poulenc, Ravel, and Stravinsky. (Click here for a quick, fun bio). The musical version of Socrate used by Morris is for piano and solo vocalist, which was performed exquisitely last Friday by tenor Brian Giebler with accompaniment by Colin Fowler. The text is a French translation of excerpts from Plato's Symposium, Phaedrus and Phaedo, culminating in a description of Socrates's state-enforced suicide via hemlock.

The choreography alternates between abstract representations of moods and more literal representations of various actions, all of it matching the coolness and lack of emotionality in the music. The effect was gorgeous, and the movement intertwined with the spare music so well that I can't imagine listening to it without picturing these dancers, particularly Billy Smith (above, with the orange skirt). A longtime member of the company since 2010, Smith would repeatedly make a magical transformation from free-flowing limbs to exact stillness, in the pose of a Greek frieze, and have it look casual.

The second half of the program was the world premiere of Via Dolorosa, a 40-minute dance depicting the fourteen Stations of the Cross. The piece began with a 2022 commission from harpist Peter Ramsay to composer Nico Muhly for a solo harp piece and the American-British poet Alice Goodman provided poems for each step of the Christian ritual depicting the journey to Christ's crucifixion.

Morris liked Muhly's music and choreographed a dance that felt very similar in affect and style to Socrates. He jettisoned Goodman's strong, pithy poems to the program book, which was probably a good idea to keep the staging simple. In the pit was solo harpist Parker Ramsay, the original commissioner.

In his wildly candid 2019 memoir, Morris wrote: "I have always been a big admirer of religion: the swindle of religion. I love the snake oil, healings, and miracles...It doesn't matter if you believe in it -- I don't believe in any of it -- but it happens. It's a fact. And it's powerful. Prayer (or "mindfulness") may not hurt, even though it's a waste of time. But I don't argue with any of it. I love magic. I love a sunset. I love a baby. I love the ideas and myths of religion, its trappings, though what I really love is the kindness of people who are devoutly religious and don't proselytize."

I feel the same way about religion, though I have to confess to a complete antipathy to the Passion narrative of the events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus. I have always found the story repulsive and its fetishization sort of creepy, such as in Mel Gibson's ultraviolent The Passion of Christ. I also dislike the story in Mark Adamo's opera The Gospel According to Mary and John Adams's oratorio The Gospel According to the Other Mary, in the old Hollywood Technicolor spectacles such as King of Kings and The Greatest Story Ever Told, along with the rock musical Jesus Christ Superstar and the Pasolini art film The Gospel According to Matthew.

Passion objections aside, the dancing and the choreography was exquisite and had a beauty quite apart from the narrative. Nico Muhly's music managed to make 40 minutes of solo harp interesting which is an achievement in itself, and the lighting design by Nicole Pearce on Howard Hodgkin's backdrop was masterful. My only complaint was with Elizabeth Kurtzman's sackcloth-looking costumes which flattered no one.

There was a very loud boo from an audience member at the end of the show, which I found amusing. Almost as a response, the rest of the audience quickly rose for the requisite standing ovation. (Pictured above in front of the ensemble are composer Nico Muhly, choreographer Mark Morris, lighting designer Nicole Pearce, and costume designer Elizabeth Kurtzman.)