Brilliant dancers ignite ‘Burn the Floor’

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Updated: August 4, 2011 4:20PM

Smoldering. Sinuous. Sexy. Rhythmically propulsive. Impossibly synchronous. Eye-popping. Endlessly seductive. Impressively varied. Defying the bounds of human movement.

I could go on. But suffice it to say that the 20 dancers of “Burn the Floor,” the style-spanning ballroom dance spectacular now in an all-too-brief run at the Bank of America Theatre, provide a superbly theatrical celebration of all things partnered and precisionist.

Forget about “Dancing With the Stars” and all those other ballroom clones that have grabbed global television audiences. Jason Gilkison, a veteran ballroom dance champion, has done for the cha-cha, samba, rumba, waltz, tango and Lindy Hop what Igor Moiseyev did for Russian folk dance and Jerome Robbins and Bob Fosse did for Broadway. While he has retained a certain element of the competitiveness of the ballroom dance championship tradition, and his virtuosic dancers clearly feed off that edginess, he has heightened and embellished the art form in a new way.

A ballroom ballet on every level, “Burn the Floor” is no rules-bound demonstration. And despite the machinelike perfectionism of every move, what is most impressive here is the tremendous spectrum of distinctive personalities onstage, and the way Gilkison has discovered original ways to exploit the specific lexicon of each dance form.

The show is cleverly structured, too. It begins with a flashy nine-part dictionary of styles, from cha-cha and Viennese waltz to foxtrot, jive and the whole irresistible catalog of Latin dances. It then pops out of the box with a uniquely American sort of speed and dynamism in a galvanic swing-dance section. The second act provides a panoramic view of the Latin influence, including flamenco (as found in a paso doble sequence). And then the dancers mix it up again for a blistering finale.

Aside from the daring, beauty and heat of the dancers, it is the sheer seamlessness of the show that is the real miracle here. Gilkison manages to shift moods, time periods and styles without ever missing a beat.

The vortexlike footwork of the Latin dancing is electrifying, and just watching the bravura legwork, pivoting pelvises and rippling backs of the exceedingly attractive and varied dancers makes the time fly by.

Janet Hines’ endless array of Ziegfeld Follies-worthy costumes is more than brilliant, as is Rick Belzer’s lighting. While the immensely attractive male contingent is clad mostly in sleek black, the women’s outfits (and hairstyles) often do a dance of their own, enhancing every move. String fringe chemises shimmy with every shake, ruffled frocks in jewel tones catch every angular swivel, and glitzy shifts shimmer like disco balls.

The most raucous swing or salsa number is counterpointed by the most deliriously lovely waltz by a girl with cornsilk hair. A blindfolded woman tries to find her lover among a group of six men, while two women try to outdo each other for the favors of one man. And at moments the sweat-glistening dancers even file up the aisles.

The few breathers they get come with exceptionally wide-ranging vocal interludes by Vonzell Solomon (who has plenty of her own sassy moves) and Peter Saul.

The superb percussionists, Joseph Malone and Henry Soriano, make the background tape seem almost live.

Just how these dancers make it through eight shows a week is beyond imagining.