Graham's legacy echoes: a centennial celebration and a new chapter
Nearly three-quarters of a century after her death, Martha Graham’s revolutionary dance style continues to resonate, not as a relic of the past, but as a vibrant force shaping contemporary movement. A new documentary, We Are Our Time, and a centennial celebration at City Center mark a pivotal moment: a look back at a titan and a bold leap forward for the Martha Graham Dance Company.
A pioneer's vision, still alive
Graham, who bookended the 20th century with a career that explored the depths of human emotion—from Oedipal complexes to the looming threat of fascism—left an indelible mark on American Art. Her choreography, rooted in the contraction and release of the torso, wasn’t merely dance; it was a visceral exploration of the human condition, often set against strikingly spare backdrops designed by Isamu Noguchi and later, impeccably tailored costumes by Halston and Calvin Klein. As Graham herself wrote to Aaron Copland, envisioning Appalachian Spring, “Certain things are alive for all of us, although far in the actual past.America is forever peopled with characters who walk with us in the present in a very real way.”
We Are Our Time, a two-part documentary premiering on PBS, isn’t a biographical hagiography. Instead, directors Peter Schnall and Cyndee Readdean skillfully focus on the current company, capturing the rigor of rehearsals, the exhaustion of tour life, and the electric energy of performance. The film smartly uses archival footage sparingly, most notably in a split-screen comparison of Graham’s original Lamentation and a performance by Leslie Andrea Williams, a poignant juxtaposition of grief across generations. Meryl Streep’s narration, a late addition to the project, adds gravitas; Schnall recounts Streep pausing during recording, noting, “I’ve only seen Martha Graham sitting, so I’m going to sit.” The impact, he says, was palpable.
Beyond the icon: a new generation takes the stage
The documentary shines a light on the company’s evolution, particularly through the work of choreographer Jamar Roberts, whose recent piece, We the People (2024), showcases the dancers’ grounded power. Roberts, a former Alvin Ailey star, understands the deep connection to the earth that permeates Graham’s technique. “There’s the spirit of the untamed that I think lives here,” he observes, “and you just don’t find it everywhere.” The film expertly weaves in scenes of Roberts' rehearsals, culminating in a powerful five-minute excerpt of We the People featuring Lloyd Knight’s captivating solo, a performance of weighted silence ending with a deliberate fall to the ground.
Janet Eilber, the artistic director since 2005, is acutely aware of the need to honor Graham’s legacy while forging a new path. “We’re not making a sacred altar to Martha Graham,” she asserts. “We’re honoring her appetite for the new.” This ethos extends to the company’s international tours, most recently in China, where Xin Ying reunited with her mother while her American-born daughter grappled with the emotional weight of the reunion. The film subtly addresses the company's past resistance to Nazi ideology, referencing Graham’s refusal to perform at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, a defiant act underscored by Williams’s striking performance of Spectre-1914 in Bologna, the red lining of the costume a deliberate burst of color against a stark backdrop.
The challenges facing the company—a looming relocation from its Westbeth headquarters and the recent loss of company members—add another layer of poignancy. Even a hurricane-damaged costume from 1959, still submerged in storage, serves as a potent reminder of the fragility of Art and the enduring power of memory. Eilber’s pragmatic approach—considering pickleball courts as potential funding sources—is a testament to her commitment to the company's survival. As Graham herself stated, “No artist is ahead of his time. He is his time.” The Graham Dance Company isn’t merely celebrating a centennial; it’s demonstrating that Art, like life, is a continuous, evolving process, a conversation across generations that refuses to be silenced.