Anthropologist Polly Wiessner has conjectured that fireside storytelling likely began 400,000 years ago when humans learned to control fire. So book writers Justin Peck and Jackie Sibblies Drury are on to something with their stage adaptation of Sufjan Stevens’ beloved 2005 concept album, Illinois, the second in the every-state series he projected then but doesn’t seem to have lengthened.
They call the resulting dance piece—New York City Ballet artistic adviser Peck being one of our foremost choreographers—Illinoise. It indeed takes place around a campfire, which immediately lends it historical, not to say pre-historical, weight.
Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Drury (Fairview) has said that when Peck approached her to work on adapting Stevens for the stage—all dance, no dialogue—she “wasn’t sure what I would do.” She’s confessed that the prospective enterprise “sounded like crazy time.”
She may have a kernel of truth there. There’s no denying that Illinoise is effective, a large billboard on Adam Rigg’s industrial-slash-forest set announcing the title as well as other information. It may be that longtime Stevens fans need only hear the material they love now presented as dance to carry on about it.
[Read Roma Torre’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
But providing the cherished songs with a connecting plot hasn’t necessarily resulted in an instantly graspable tale. (Aside from giving his okay, Stevens was not involved in the transfer.) Yes, it’s clear that most of Stevens’ Illinois songs are used for the fireside stories told. It couldn’t be clearer as the dancers gather and gather again around a supposed campfire and then disperse to dance each subsequent story.
What wasn’t clear, at least not to this spectator, is that the stories told were intended to be one man’s reminiscence. They position confused figure Henry (Ricky Ubeda) trying to make sense of his life. They focus specifically on his romantic longing for good friend Carl (Ben Cook), who’s in love with Shelby (Gaby Diaz). They also bring on Douglas (Ahmad Simmons) as Henry’s eventual replacement for Carl.
There’s an abundance of tender kissing, often on the top of the head, but how it relates to earlier recollections of Illinois-born serial killer John Wayne Gacy isn’t immediately obvious. Neither is the relevance of another earlier tale featuring hooded zombies holding signs identifying themselves as Columbus, Ronald Reagan, Jerry Falwell, and others. Or Superman, man of steel and heart. There’s the suggestion that somehow a political point is being made, but what point and why?
Stevens’ songs are sung, of course, but whereas Stevens recorded himself in signature dulcet tones at various New York City studios, Illinoise has three singers—Elijah Lyons as Arctiini, Shara Nova as Basine, Tasha Viets-VanLear as Nacna interpreting the cherished collection. Sporting butterfly wings, they deliver the numbers from high platforms in front of conductor Nathan Koci’s crisp band. (Butterfly wings? Stevens idolators undoubtedly get the reference.)
It’s unfortunate, however, that the sometimes dulcet, sometimes cogently brash sounds Lyons, Nova, and Viets-VanLear deliver aren’t consistently intelligible. Occasionally lyrics are distinct—for infrequent example, “three stars” (evidently alluding to a High Park, Illinois, UFO sighting) and “writing from the heart,” always a valuable place to write from. All the same, too many words are lost, surely a challenge for often Grammy-nominated sound designer Garth MacAleavy. (Stevens, a song man but not a song and dance man, is probably keeping his opinions to himself.)
Foremost, though, and as instigated by Peck, Illinoise is built to be danced. In addition to those already named, the troupe includes Christine Flores, Byron Tittle, Kara Chan, Rachel Lockhart, Alejandro Vargas, Jeanette Delgado, Brandt Martinez, and Craig Salstein. There’s no gainsaying that they’re a game troupe, ready to throw themselves into every routine created by Peck (Tony winner for the most recent and possibly most danced Carousel ever). Tittle gets a tap turn and turns it into a showstopper.
A quick glance at the dancers’ bios shows they all have Broadway résumés to gloat over, but only Salstein and Delgado have histories with ballet troupes. It isn’t that Illinoise stresses ballet; it doesn’t. But somehow in the dancing there’s the sense that at times Peck looked for the dancers to acquit themselves more sleekly, with more finish.
Perhaps he didn’t—certainly he did ask for a kind of awkwardness to fit characterizations—but the choreographic repetitions that crop up as the work progresses suggest that eventually something is lacking. They’re repetitions incorporated into dances intended to accompany quite different stories. On the other hand, Peck has been quoted saying he wants to strip the “elite” aura from ballet. Perhaps he wants things precisely this way.
A word to the wise: The Playbill comes with a booklet featuring an unidentified species butterfly on the cover. (Anyone want to bet that Stevens can name it?) Inside is Henry’s diary (Drury’s text) scrawled—with deliberately crude illustrations—over 18 pages explaining what’s taking place during Illinoise. The wise ticket buyer will consult it first, thus forgoing all the dance musical’s real-time guesswork.
Illinoise opened April 24, 2024, at the St. James Theatre and runs through Aug. 10. Tickets and information: illinoiseonstage.com
