A man is falling from the sky. Even as he plummets, you can tell he’s a dancer: There is grace in the twisting of his wind-buffeted limbs. He lands not with a thud but a whisper, on the tips of his toes.
That’s how the hip-hop fantasy “Once Again (for the Very First Time)” begins. (The movie opens in theaters on Oct. 18.) The film’s dream logic follows an unresolved love affair between a dancer, DeRay, played by Jeroboam Bozeman — the falling man of the opening sequence — and a spoken-word artist, Naima (Mecca Verdell).
Neither Bozeman, a former member of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, nor the film’s choreographer, the street dance poet Rennie Harris, had made a movie before. Plunged into the world of film, both landed softly, feet first. The dance scenes in “Once Again” — blistering battles, a solo of muffled rage, a duet that weaves through a club — reveal Bozeman and Harris discovering their natural affinity for the camera.
Boaz Yakin, the film’s writer and director, is a dance devotee. His parents are pantomimes who have taught movement for actors at Juilliard; his 2020 movie “Aviva” featured choreography by the gutsy contemporary dancer Bobbi Jene Smith. “Using movement to convey things that other modes can’t, that has always been part of my life,” he said in an interview.
In “Once Again,” Yakin wanted hip-hop battles to be “a metaphor for this idea of both life and art as a struggle,” he said. A colleague recommended Harris, 61, a guiding light in hip-hop, renowned for translating street dance styles to the stage. And Harris suggested Bozeman for DeRay.
Like Harris, Bozeman, 34, came up through street dance before building a concert career. The two have collaborated for more than a decade, with Bozeman dancing in Harris’s pieces as a member first of Philadanco and then of Alvin Ailey.
“The dance part, the physical part, the way he existed in space — Jeroboam had it,” Harris said. “I knew he was going to give it something raw. And then as soon as I saw him act in a scene, I said, ‘You need to get an agent right now.’ I believed him.”
When Harris’s call came, Bozeman had just withdrawn from an Ailey tour to nurse an ankle injury. He was beginning to think about retirement. “It felt like divine timing,” he said. “At Ailey, I’d done the roles, I’d been on the poster. There were all these incredible artists coming in. Maybe it was time to make room for them.” (Bozeman left Ailey in June.)
Being in that moment of transition, Bozeman said, also helped him connect to his “Once Again” character. DeRay, a former leader of his dance community — “I built the temple,” he says repeatedly — is figuring out his new role as a younger generation rises.
On a recent Zoom call, Bozeman and Harris talked about creating the film’s kaleidoscopic dance sequences. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation.
Did making a movie change the way you think about choreography?
RENNIE HARRIS It was affirming. It affirmed that I basically approach choreography from a film perspective. Whatever I’m making, I like the idea of playing with time, slowing it down. The tools you have to do that in post production on a film — how can I create those same effects onstage as a choreographer?
How much direction were you given for the dance scenes?
JEROBOAM BOZEMAN It was all very collaborative. Sometimes Boaz would have an idea, and Rennie would just take it to the infinity power — the idea on steroids. Often we think of hip-hop or house or breaking as pure entertainment, but with Rennie, it’s never just about entertainment. It’s always about storytelling.
HARRIS I was comforted by the fact that Boaz didn’t see me as an addition or an appendage. He just told me to do what I do, and then he’d figure out how to catch it. Onstage, I can create things that people’s eyes can follow — I can show them where to look. But in a film, the camera is doing that job. I had to trust the director to make it 3-D in that way.
As someone outside of hip-hop, how did Boaz earn your trust?
HARRIS Early on I was like, “Who’s this guy trying to come in and do this hippity-hoppity thing?” But then I did my research and saw that he directed “Fresh” [1994], which is one of my favorite movies — it feels true to African American culture. And he has such a passion for dance. I think low-key he wants to be a dancer.
BOZEMAN It didn’t feel like an exploitative point of view. There was an openness to dialogue, a lot of sensitivity and care.
The dance-battle scenes feature a lot of phenomenal street dancers. How did the cast come together?
HARRIS As soon as I got to New York, I just started calling people, and word got out. There were some O.G.s there, and there were some new dancers who were coming up. It was almost like a homecoming once everybody was on set. I’d have to stop the crazy dancing going on between takes — like, hold up, wait for the cameras!
BOZEMAN I think by featuring this kind of talent, you’re getting street dance in its most raw essence. Often in films, this type of dance can become commercial. There’s nothing wrong with that, but there’s a different type of beauty to the dancing in this film.
In the scenes in which DeRay battles the other street dancers, it seemed like whenever the dialogue went in a spiritual direction — “I built the temple” — DeRay’s movement became more contemporary, more lifted out of the ground.
HARRIS Street dance is extremely spiritual, so I don’t want to say that the contemporary dance was the spiritual side and the street dance wasn’t. Actually, before I read the script I was thinking, Wait — you want to have this contemporary dancer beat out all these street dancers? I don’t think I can sign on to that. [He laughs.]
One thing we were thinking about was that DeRay wanted to open the battle up to all dance. Let’s expand the temple. And I think that’s what hip-hop is saying in general. Hip-hop is for everybody. How does your narrative fit into this cipher that we’re all part of?
BOZEMAN I thought of it as showing the generational transition that’s happening. DeRay is this character that everyone looked up to, but the way he dances, it’s not the way dancers are moving any more. Dance is all about repetition, but it’s also always evolving, and DeRay’s world has evolved. When he does contemporary movements that then shift into house and hip-hop, that’s him trying to acclimate.
One of the film’s themes is the idea that repetition is an illusion — that everything’s always new. That’s a familiar idea in dance: “Once again, for the very first time” is how dancers feel at the beginning of every class and performance.
HARRIS Right? Every show I’ve done for 30 years, one of us will be going around beforehand saying to the dancers, “This is it, this is the show.” Every time you hit the floor is the first time.
BOZEMAN And that’s so hard for a dancer to do on film. When there are 50 different takes, and each one asks so much of your body, how do you keep that same level of integrity?
HARRIS You have to be in it. You have to be directing the momentum, but also going with it. You have to be conjuring the spirit.
Another theme in the film is the idea of inspiration as both a creative and a destructive force — a concept that dancers, who often punish their bodies in pursuit of transcendence, also know well. How did that show up in the choreography?
HARRIS I like darkness. I dive into darkness. Joy inspired by angst: That’s a very old story. Soul music, rhythm and blues — it’s great music, but underneath it? Ahh! A lot of entertainers and performers, we’re often fighting the dark with the light that way. And that connects to the dueling and battling in this movie.
Jeroboam, do you see more film or acting work in your future?
BOZEMAN When I was younger, I had a teacher who said, “You’ve got to have drag in your bag.” I used to think that meant to always carry a bunch of different dance clothes, so I’d be ready for any kind of audition. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that that phrase includes what you can do, your experiences and skills. So now I have more drag in my bag. I can bring it into whatever I do next — in dance, in acting, and beyond.
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