The Brooklyn Rail

How do you discover a meaningful purpose in life when it’s not obvious or logical? Michael Keegan-Dolan’s autobiographical dance-theater work, How to Be a Dancer in 72,000 Easy Lessons, traces his labyrinthine route to becoming the artistic director and choreographer of Teaċ Daṁsa, a troupe based in West Kerry Gaeltacht, Ireland. By the show’s end, it’s still not clear exactly how he reached his current level of accomplishment, but he lays out milestones that might have rebuffed him had they not served to fortify his unlikely ambition.

The “dancer” in the title (the 72,000 refers to a yoga term) is somewhat misleading, as Keegan-Dolan—who studied dance—hadn’t danced in a theater performance for years prior to How to Be a Dancer. He has, however, had ample success at directing other more preternaturally gifted dancers and musicians in various works, including the sublime Rian and Swan Lake/Loch na hEala, both seen in New York in recent years. In the new piece, he and partner Rachel Poirier are credited as choreographers and performers, while Poirier is cited as director with Adam Silverman. Keegan-Dolan presumably wrote most of the text, since it’s primarily about his formative years. He recites anecdotes for long spans, with Poirier interjecting periodically. For the first half, he sports a Hugh Grant-like wig.

His monologues power the work, pronounced in a pleasing lilt, with the heavy dance lifting done by Poirier. In the two Teaċ Daṁsa pieces I’ve seen (listed above), Poirier has stood out for her clarity, ferocity, and pathos. Here, she immediately asserts her rebellious nature by lighting up just as we hear the announcement of “no smoking.” She is a wry foil for some of his anecdotes—popping a balloon on cue or riding a bike in wobbly circles. The stage is littered with everyday items that come into play one by one, upcycled into DIY props.

As his narrative unspools, Keegan-Dolan tells of obstacles that could have arrested his evolution into a choreographer. While playing in a ball game, he purposely does not catch a ball meant for him, stepping aside like Gene Kelly (an inspiration). Taking ballet at eighteen with a class of nine-year-old girls. An unsupportive father, an oppressive and unhelpful priest. A stint in musical theater, a sad audition for Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker where this musical theater experience is a detriment. His inability to tell his right from his left. The death of one of his brothers forces him to face existential questions, ultimately deciding, “While I’m living, I’m going to dance.”

Fast forward a bit, perhaps skipping over some vital milestones, and he’s choreographing for an opera, seeking movement ideas on being a refugee. The maestro castigates him on his first choreographic attempts, bemoaning, “it’s like Las Vegas!” Days pass, and the maestro re-watches the same choreography, only this time with no complaints, apparently simply needing to establish his absolute power.

Cue Ravel’s “Boléro,” to which Poirier performs an extended virtuosic dance solo (using her own source material) while Keegan-Dolan supports a crate tilted at an angle from which she had emerged, phoenix-like, exclaiming “watch this!” The movement samples choreography that might exemplify Teaċ Daṁsa’s: an amalgam of pedestrian gestures punctuated by deep pliés and flicks of the arm to reset a phrase, brisk runs, often showy moves (some evoking the slapstick of Molly Shannon’s Mary Katherine Gallagher), and always while checking to make sure the audience is paying close attention. Keegan-Dolan also never stops watching Poirier as he dutifully props up the crate, perhaps a nod to her as the irrepressible star.

In the finale, outfitted similarly in white shirts and slacks, they sit on chairs facing us, eyes shut, radiating calm for a long spell. We hear how dancers emit energy, which hits us and zings back to the dancers, who are in turn re-energized by it. Although under ninety minutes, the show feels like a long sojourn, and in the end we are still not sure how Keegan-Dolan got from being a reluctant dancer to leading a highly respected movement theater company. And while this monologue-forward two-hander lacks the folk jamboree inclusiveness of his larger-scale works, his fluency with writing and speaking, and Poirier’s magnetism, make for a satisfying evening. Maybe next time, we’ll hear her story.