By Rita Felciano

Photo by Kimara Dixon

The festival, which continues this weekend at the Project Artaud Theater, takes after its predecessor, "Black Choreographers Moving into the 21st Century," which in the 1990s focused on contemporary choreography. But as dance historian and festival guest Halifu Osumare pointed out on opening night, we're now in the 21st century, and "contemporary" is no longer as easily defined. African American artists, Osumare told the cheering audience, have always been on the forefront of American dance. At this year's festival, the proof is in the sheer heterogeneity of the sparkling choreography, all of it by local artists, all of it decidedly contemporary. Though every entry wasn't first-rate, the riches of imagination, the forceful ideas, and the vitality of the beautifully trained dancers showed that a festival that puts the spotlight on African American dance should, perhaps, no longer be necessary. But at the very least it is very much worthwhile.

Robert Henry Johnson opened the evening as a kind of spirit guide. A still-splendid dancer who works best when he choreographs on his own body, his Letters to Jesus, set to music by Toshi Reagon, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Peter Heller, had a spirit of improvisation to it. In this loosely constructed work, Johnson seemed more interested in individual gestures than in a larger structure. He has a whole lexicon of dance inside his body, including modern dance's floor work, African isolations, ballet's turns in attitude, and hip-hop's popping; he's also such a theatrically savvy performer that one could probably watch him read the sports pages.

More substantial was Robert Moses' Kin's fierce Cause, which was based on the company's collaboration with the young poets of Youth Speaks. The work was so intense that one feared at times for the dancers' safety. Could those drops really be stopped in time? That thrusting hand be diverted at the last moment? Those tangled limbs unravel and manage to leave each dancer intact? But Moses, a master strategist, balanced the ferocious activity with total stasis. Dancers simply stood and waited on one side of the stage, while on the other, all hell seemed to break loose. Individual sections worked better than the whole piece, which was ultimately too long – though duets between Moses and Bliss Kohlmyer, and the final quartet for Tristan Ching, Todd Eckert, Ramon Ramos Alayo, and Katherine Wells, were outstanding.

The time frame for Kendra Kimbrough Dance Ensemble's Vistors seemed to come from a culture in which even the clocks run slower. Despite intense dancing, the piece rolled along like a meandering river, at first riding the waves of Kimbrough's dreamy recollection of her mother's watery womb, then of Rosangela Silvestre's evocation of the Orisha gods and goddesses; Clairemonica Dixon danced the part of the primary seeker who gets awakened by ancient beliefs. The contrast between traditional West African-based and contemporary dance, in movement and costumes, succeeded for the most part, and the work's incantatory quality was wonderfully enhanced by the live music by Gamo de Paz and Rudy Ortiz. Overall, however, Vistors needed tightening; this was also a case in which program notes could have provided more useful background information on the piece.

A modest kudo, more for its precedent-setting idea than for the actual result, goes to Heap of Lava, which paired Malia Movement Company's young women with Kaiaulu Hula Halau. Developed by members of the emerging artists program of the Black Choreographers Festival, who were mentored by Dimensions Dance Theater artistic director Deborah Vaughan, the three-part performance focused on the commonality of language in African-based dance and hula. In addition to call and response, both dance forms prominently use the hips for expressive purposes. Dressed in ballooning black pants, Malia's sometimes tentative dancers engaged in simple, rounded, Hawaiian-inspired hip and arm gestures around a central figure in red. The piece gradually segued into a beautifully executed traditional hula. Reserved, contained, and performed in place, Heap of Lava was gorgeous to watch and highlighted hula's spiritual dimensions.

An excerpt from the film Alonzo King Goes to Venice hit the sole sour note of the festival's opening weekend. It seemed almost condescending to send such a badly chopped-up and dimly lit documentary instead of even a lone dancer from Alonzo King's Lines Ballet. Fortunately, Fua Dia Congo's new Merengue brought the evening to a rousing finale. The company looked larger and better than ever, while Merengue, which seemed to incorporate a lot of contemporary, urban moves into traditional dancing, looked fabulous. The spirit of Fua Dia Congo's founder, the late Casquelourd, was surely smiling.

'Black Choreographers Festival: Here and Now' continues Fri/11-Sat/12, 8 p.m.; Sun/13, 3 and 7 p.m., Project Artaud Theater, 450 Florida, S.F. $10-$20. (415) 863-9835.