Parsons Projects

MASTER CHEF: Parsons (center) and members of his company.

Choreographer David Parsons enthusiastically expounds on his career and his latest work, premiering in Philly next week.

by Janet Anderson

David Parsons came to Philly last week to do one of those press treadmill days. Here to promote the April 4 premiere of Too Many Cooks, commissioned by Annenberg’s Dance Celebration!, he gamely dishes out variations of the same main course to an endless stream of reporters in person and via cell phone and radio. That he can actually make this into something fun shouldn’t surprise anyone -- comedy is his long suit.

When I get to the empty restaurant for our chat, he's ensconced at a table with stuff spread out every which way, and he's on the phone doing another interview. He beams and mouths, "Just a minute," then talks on. "Have you ever seen my dance company?" He's being very nice to someone who really has no idea what Parsons does. He stays limber, however, occasionally getting up from the table, marching around, knees high, keeping warmed up while doing the stiff job of talking.

Finally he's finished, and he scolds me in a twinkly eyed way, "You're early." Well -- not really. But among his many talents, he's famously charming, and there he is, dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark shirt, shiny smile, a handsome guy doing a talkathon.

"Wow," I laugh, "I feel sorry for you."

"Ah," he shrugs, "It's just the life of an artist." He amends that -- "Well, the business of an artist anyway."

Too Many Cooks is actually his second Annenberg series commission; in 1996, he made Class Act using Philly school kids and eccentric music by Mexican Jorge Esquivel. No kids this time, but he's using Esquivel again. "What's the deal with you, Philly and Esquivel?" I ask.

"It's sort of amazing," he concedes. "I was in Venice working on the sound score for Two Many Cooks, which is a gastronomical, erotical, sexual comedy in the kitchen." And he adds he'd had trouble finding a score for the subject. Then he heard via CNN that Esquivel had died, and he remembered the composer's idiosyncratic mixes of instrumentation and bizarre sound. "The music has a very humorous attitude," Parsons stresses, "perfect for a bunch of cooks."

Parsons leaps up and charges across the room (one must be very alert every minute talking with him because he's apt to get up or go somewhere.) He takes a call, which turns out to be someone from Italy calling to ask his company back for a residency. That accomplished, he returns with what looks like a computer but is actually a technological gizmo that shows a run-through of Too Many Cooks while playing the Esquivel score. "I'm going to show you some of the music."

"Watch this jump coming up," he says, leaning forward. "Can you hear the salt shakers here?" Actually I can hear something like salt shakers. "Listen to this Hawaiian music bit coming up. It's so funny, and he never repeats it." He leans back. "God, they're a beautiful company." The creator is taking a minute with his creation. "Now these are the waitresses from hell..." And yes, this crazy music works for a "gastronomical, erotical" comedy.

Parsons has been something of a golden boy in the dance world. He spent nine years in modern great Paul Taylor's company (starting at age 17), then formed his own company focused on his own choreography. For 15 years, in spite of struggles, the Parsons Dance Co. flourished. Audiences loved him, and so did critics, although like many innovators with a funny bone, some considered him too popular. He'd moved into spiffy new offices, his company was financially in the black and he'd had a ball doing choreography for the Times Square millennium celebration. Then trouble knocked.

With the economic downturn last year, Parsons found himself with less corporate money, fewer donors and a financial sheet colored red again. Then there was the critical disappointment of The Pied Piper, which he choreographed for American Ballet Theater. Although Parsons brings the subject up, he puts his hand over my notes, saying "don't write about this." It still hurts. Then, in a Capra-esque moment, that darned cell phone rings again and it's ABT calling to get permission to use a Parsons' piece in an upcoming program.

"See," I say, "it can't have been that bad." No comment.

And, finally, guess where the Parsons Dance Co. had a gig on Sept. 11? The World Trade Center. Seeing the first plane go into a building, Parsons himself turned back his tech truck, which was arriving to set up.

Parsons is 42 years old and has given up touring with the company. "I want to see if there's life off the road," he says simply. And walking me to the door (while doing some more stretches), he chats a bit, off the record (natch) about his personal life. Let me just say this: Manhattan ladies take note, the hunky dancer guy known in Italy as the Marlboro Man is staying in town this year.

Parsons Dance Company presents Too Many Cooks, April 4-6, $28-$25, Zellerbach Theatre, Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts, 3680 Walnut St., 215-898-3900.