Geneviève Fabre, "Katherine Dunham on the French Stage (No Repeat of La Revue Nègre)" (page 4 of 7)

French reactions were a characteristic blend of allusions to Dunham's erudition and to the sensuous attractions of the show. A piece by popular critic Max Favalelli can be read as an invitation au voyage[8] through Dunham's choreography, and tells us much about French fantasies about the black body in exotic settings—the colors, smells, and movements. Interpreting the show with his preconceived ideas, clichés, and contrived images, the reviewer trivializes the substance of the performance. Once again, the article opens with an evocation of the Revue Nègre. One is struck by the similarities in the comments on Baker's shows and on Dunham's:

Twenty years ago Harlem sent us like a blow to the heart the famous Revue Nègre, which revealed the magnificent ebony body of Josephine Baker, the gasping of the tom tom.... A distinguished anthropologist, Katherine Durham limits herself, in her human geography, to the shores of the Caribbean and Brazil. After the strong primitive alcohol from the alembics of New Orleans, she serves white (or cream colored) rum that disguises its fire under a deceitful sweetness. From Havana to Martinique via Trinidad, we set out on a lazy cruise on those seas of tepid milk surrounded by coral. An enormous cigar between her snow-white teeth, her hair shining like the flank of a sea lion, Katherine appears, like the Creole sung by Baudelaire. Her legs, supple and naked, are ivory pistils that emerge from the corolla of her petticoats."[9]

But the strangest scene for the critic was "L'Ag'Ya," and this is how he describes, in his own fashion, one of Dunham's most famous dances. "Slowly, with the gestures of a sleepwalker, she begins to undress. First, her shimmering headdress. Then her skirt reveals lascivious hips shaken by a voluptuous tremor." And he describes the majumba, the love dance induced by an evil philter, after the beguin danced by the Creole women: "Leaning back in disarray, Katherine faints ... the blue steel of a knife will free her from the charm. But the audience finds it hard to break free from the charm of Katherine."

Caribbean Rhapsody was described as a tumulte noir. An article in Ce soir (27 November 1948) offered Dunham one the best compliments she could hope to find in the press: "It is such a revelation in technique and richness that it can be compared to Diaghilev's ballets." In other reviews, Dunham, la magicienne de la danse antillaise, was compared to Carmen Anaya, la reine gitane, whom, incidentally, both Baker and Dunham greatly admired. In a "Letter from England," Maurice Pourchet praised Dunham for her magnificent performance in "L'Ag'hia." But he was particularly impressed with the male actors, who, he said, could give lessons to Western professional performers, and whose merits emerge out of racial instinct—a compliment that must have made Dunham shudder since she put so much emphasis on training, work, and discipline. Mention was also made of the excellent use of the drum—so perfectly played that its "sonority [took] on definite colorations" of "jazz more refined than the barrelhouse or nightclub jazz" of Dunham's voice; not as striking as Baker's or Robeson's, but with "timbres" that express nostalgia."[10] Some reviews gave detailed description of the show, usually—as often was the case with Dunham—organized in three parts: one inspired by traditions from South America, mainly Brazil; the second a ballet set in the West Indies; the third, a retrospective of jazz and an evocation of Harlem and Chicago in the mid-1920s. One critic in Carrefour was particularly severe, denouncing the entire performance as a ballet nègre blanc whose modernity was already outmoded in the States. He further claimed that the enthusiastic acclaim of Parisians was as outmoded as the show. Most reviews mentioned the fact the Dunham had studied anthropology; one marveled at the idea that such a superb dancer could also be a distinguished anthropologist. Hélène Jourdan Morhange gave perhaps the most flattering appreciation. Quoting Nietzsche's phrase, "Rhythm is an indispensable self-conquest through discipline," she praised the "hallucinating spectacle," but also maintained, "the reckless fantasy that Dunham presents is always based on rigorous discipline." She also singled out Tommy Gomez and Vanoye Aikens for their skills as dancers.[11]

After its premiere at the Théâtre de Paris in November 1948, Rhapsodie Caraïbe ran at the Sarah Bernard. Seeing the show in February 1949, J.A. Baltus was impressed by the striking innovation Dunham brought to the stage: "the perfect ensemble she creates with dancers and musicians, the subtleties of sets, lights, and designs, and the variety of the numbers, burlesque or solemn, Dunham's ability to shift from one mood or tone to another, to shift scenes.... With her, exoticism makes sense."[12] When a slightly different version of Dunham's show was performed in July 1949 at the Ambassadeurs, Richard Wright and Aimé Césaire were the sponsors. To Anne Masson, the show was "a vast panorama of the arts and spectacles of the Negro race that asserts its bi-continental dimension, its complicity and its unity at the same time. It is the world of a marvelously gifted people for whom heartbeats are expressed in the rhythms of dances and sadness."[13] In February and March 1950 and October 1951, the Théâtre de Chaillot, and then the Théâtre de Paris, featured new versions of Rhapsody, the latter with the additional numbers "Frevo" and "Washerwoman." In January 1953, Dunham presented her last big show, Southland. In 1955 she directed a musical comedy, Les Deux Anges, at the Théâtre de Paris.

Thus, from 1948 to 1955, and in between tours to distant places, Dunham returned repeatedly to Paris with revised versions of her Rhapsody or with new choreographies. The first part of the show was called "Africa." Its prologue was a Brazilian suite that included "Acaraje," a homage to the Brazilian musician Dorival Caymmi; "Choros," an arrangement of a quadrille of old Brazil; "Frevo," on a carnival tune from Pernambuco, Brazil; "Batucada," from the Bahia region; and "Los Indios," "Cumbia," "Tango," and "Shango," a set of ritual dances ending in a sacrifice to the Yoruba god. The second part, called "Americana," included plantation dances like the buck and wing, the pas mala, and the juba, as well as spirituals like the barrelhouse, some nostalgic melodies, and the cakewalk, which started with acrobatics featuring Mister Bone and Tambo. The third part began with "Rites of Passage" and included rituals of male puberty; "Death," a set of orphic rites with the god Gédé presiding; and "Veracruzana," derived from Mexican folklore.[14] Dunham not only made a careful selection of her best numbers for this show but also followed the trail of the black diaspora. She had set out to perform with geographical and historical coherence. Where Josephine often seemed to improvise on someone else's music, Katherine largely followed traditional steps on ancient tunes especially arranged for her company. The choreography thus created was a strong thematic and artistic statement.[15] If most critics were tempted to see Dunham as a new Baker, as another fille de la jungle who had brought exoticism and primitivism to the Paris stage, and if many used the same clichés about black dance and the black body, they nonetheless tried to give Dunham her due. They appreciated her singular itinerary, her ability to do thorough research and cover so much ground, to stage innovative choreographies, perform, create a school, and train dancers.[16]

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