Revelations: A Dance that Reveals the Spirit of Alvin Ailey and the Soul of the African American Story
Revelations premiered in 1960, during the first few years of Alvin Ailey’s New York City-based dance company, and quickly became a tradition, performed by hundreds of casts. Each one of the thirty-six minutes is infused with “blood memories” from Ailey’s childhood in the Texas Baptist Church, a branch of Protestant Christianity with a strong African American following. All three segments, titled “Pilgrim of Sorrow,” “Take Me to the Water” and “Move, Members, Move” are danced to Black spirituals, gospels, and holy blues, which transcend from yearning and despair to purification and baptism, to joy and celebration. The ballet, influenced by the technique of Ailey’s mentor Lestor Horton, has been performed in seventy-one countries on six continents, including during Presidential inaugurations and Olympic ceremonies.
The crowd may begin to cheer and applaud at the sound of the first score of “Pilgrim of Sorrow” called “I've Been ‘Buked.’” They know they are about to feel something extraordinary. Less than a dozen dancers stand in a pyramid as the curtain rises, dressed in simple fabric in shades of sand, beige, and brown, reaching tall and rooted so deeply they are unshakable. As the spiritual gathers its strength, the dancers do too. They arch their chests and hands to the sky, pulsing from each fingertip, drawing their lines with formidable grace as they stretch higher and higher for something painfully out of reach. A dull hazy sun frames them as they move from duets to solos to trios and the music shifts to “Didn't My Lord Deliver Daniel'' and “Fix Me, Jesus,” using heartbreaking restraint and tireless longing.
Soon, however, the dancers leave the earth tones of browns and beiges to reemerge in an underwater world of aquamarine blue and pristine white. Women stride in from the wings in long ruffled white dresses with puffed sleeves and jellyfish-like umbrellas, while men prance in shirtless with white linen trousers and sheets of cerulean and white in their trail. The blue mercurial light reflects off of each contracted muscle as the dancers' groove and twist. “Wade in the Water,” arranged and adapted by Howard A. Roberts, undulates beneath their sways and struts. Inspired by the ritual of baptism, the painful restraint from “Pilgrim of Sorrow” is gone, thoroughly shedded by the cleansing waters that have made the dancers new and whole. Shoulders, chests, and hips move generously and Afro-Cuban influence reveals itself through the hints of drums and claves.
The commanding voice of “Sinner Man” ushers in the beginning of the final segment “Move Members Move” with startling velocity. Three men in black trousers pirouette, leap and fall weightlessly to get from one corner to another and end daringly on their knees with their arms stretched out to the sky as the lights darken to a pitch black.
The sun then rises again, no longer hazy but a strikingly golden one that lights up the entire theater. Women in long yellow embroidered dresses emerge flicking paper fans against their faces as they sit down to rest on wooden stools, invoking a regular Sunday at church. As a dozen gentlemen enter dressed in tuxedo vests, a celebration erupts to the sound of “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” and the crowd rises from their seats, some clapping in sync and others tapping their feet, mirroring how the music moves the dancers' shoulders in agreement, catharsis, and praise. The dancers bow, smile, and wave, but then with the point of a finger, they keep on dancing, even as the curtain begins its descent. “Move, Members, Move,” which ends on stage but lives eternally in spirit, ending the piece with fervent joy, a full-circle embodiment of Ailey’s voice within the African American story.