Reviews
Sydney Dance Company in Underland choreographed by Stephen
Petronio
by Francesca Horsley
T here is no doubt that New York choreographer Stephen
Petronio sought to fully engage our senses in his work Underland.
Made on and performed by the Sydney Dance Company, it was
dense with metaphor. Set to a selection of Australian Nick
Cave's angst -ridden melodies, with video projection of
billowing atomic clouds or cascading falls of rubbish, it
featured rugged, worn torn dancers juxtaposed against this
concave world.
In this work, Petronio deliberately avoided narrative dance,
describing the work as surreal, expressionistic, where "Mad
Max meets Alice in Wonderland." It was dark, postapocalyptic
- possibly seeking to reflect the raging fires in our collective
subconscious.
It was a highly structured work, divided into 14 sections,
and at any one time, a number of thematic ideas were explored.
A large bare stage gave sweep to a triptych of giant screens
featuring a powerful video projection and seemed to absorb
the overpowering force of Nick Cave and the Bad Seed's menacing
world (produced for this work by Tony Cohen and made into
a soundscape by Paul Healy). Remarkable costumes by New
York designer Tara Subkoff (Imitation of Christ) added to
the under-belly look of the piece.
The dancers seemed oblivious to the flow of images on the
screens. Rather, the video seemed to enlarge and interpret
Cave's introspective music into environmental catastrophes,
while the choreography seemed to relate to the lyrics. This
complex array of sensory stimuli deflected from the dexterous
flow of movement and reinforced the primacy of composition
over choreography.
There were many powerful moments - the opening, as an upside-down
Xue-Jun Wang climbed very slowly downwards in the "Descent
into Underland" on a net-like structure, reflected
- sometimes in close-up and sometimes in wide shot, on one
of three screens behind him. In a later scene, "The
Ship Song," a pile of bodies breathed, softly undulating,
and in the humorous duet "Stagger Lee" the dancers
were passionately and inextricably bonded together.
While it was Petronio's choreography - it was still the
Sydney Dance Company. Their aesthetic is as much ballet
as it is contemporary - full of elevation, high extensions
and beats. They are masters of their style - flawless lifts,
partnering, ensemble work, counterpoint, magnetic hyper-energy
and athleticism.
The big, almost giant male dancers, one or two looking
like Transformers, danced with power and vigour. They were
largely anonymous, aside from Bradley Chatfield, one of
Australia's most celebrated contemporary dancers, who had
little difficulty in asserting his imprint on each of the
sections he danced.
In contrast the women were small Barbie dolls - one very
tiny indeed. In some sequences they appeared stiff and automated
- bizarrely pirouetting in brilliant red and green tutu
skirts and bra tops - and in others they looked raunchy
or liquid.
"Underland" ended with "Death is Not The
End," to the song of the same name from Cave's "Murder
Ballads," danced by the whole ensemble. With dancers
all dressed in white, this section was dream-like and almost
wistful - in sharp contrast to the force of earlier movement.
Again, it sought not to link itself to the music, finishing
with the backdrop being lifted on backstage props and apparatus.
Undressed with bare bones showing, Underland left to the
audience to unravel whose psyche had been revealed -Petronio's,
Cave's or our own.
Researching Dance Performance
Dagmar Simon discusses Linda Ashley's innovative research
The possibility to perform in Old Yeller at the Auckland
tempo dance festival caused Linda Ashley to create her dance
monologue Several Decades in the Life of a Dolly Mixture.
This work was presented in different versions of varying
length in different settings. The first performance took
place at the Auckland College of Education in September.
There it was a half hour piece accompanied by David Lines
with his wonderful improvisations on the piano. The second
performance, presented at Old Yeller (an evening of performances
by mature dance artists), featured a much shortened version.
The third one took place at the University of Auckland,
where Linda has embarked on a PhD. She presented a more
academically focused version at the Auckland University
Post-Graduate Student Association's Exposure competition/event,
where students presented their research proposals. It's
easy to imagine that Linda's presentation was completely
different from anything else. A jury that firstly had their
jaws drop then rewarded her with first prize for her section!
In her piece Linda puts before the audience issues of dance
and aging, hence the sub-title of her piece Youthanasia
of Dance. 'Senior moments' star in an hilarious way as well
as 'battle' with the body. "You think you finally got
the hang of it
and then the body packs up!" Linda
forces us in a humorous way to reflect upon the situation
of dance practitioners in middle age.
The other prominent theme is the relationship of body and
mind. "When I am dancing, I am thinking" is her
message, as opposed to Descartes' "I think therefore
I am". Thought-provoking statements, which question
the superiority of the mind and its disconnection from the
body, which is so ingrained in Western thinking. We are
all working with our bodies all the time, but are we really
sure where we stand philosophically in regard to the body/mind
relationship? Additionally, how would our stance in this
regard possibly guide our practice? '
One major goal of Linda's piece is to challenge the 'sacred
cow' of research and secure its relevance by connecting
it to the practice of dance. Her piece poses the question:
"what is research?" Dance researchers, coming
from a practical art form and faced with a narrow theoretical
definition of research, have been particularly interested
in exploring and redefining existing definitions. A shift
in thinking is happening at some universities, which opens
up opportunities to use performance projects as research
projects. What a difference from the earlier thinking, which
unfortunately is still widely prevalent, that arts practice
and arts research are two independent matters.
Linda demonstrates that there is an obvious connection
between research and practice. Firstly, many aspects of
her piece are based on historical research from her books.
Secondly, she makes research findings while working on a
piece or performing. For example she saw on the video recording
that she responded unconsciously to the improvised music,
even though the concept was for the music and the movement
to be disassociated. This is a research finding.
Linda emphasises that artists' careers are made up of phases
of research. You collate information, spin a web, which
is not at all different from scientific data gathering.
These research phases are paramount to the process of creation
and for the growth of the artist.
New Zealand School of Dance Graduation Season 2004.
Te Whaea Theatre, Wellington
by Francesca Horsley
The end-of-year show by Wellington's New Zealand School
of Dance "Graduation Season" presented a programme
of alternate classical ballet and contemporary dance pieces,
with graduating students performing in their specialty disciplines.
The Pas de Deux and Grand Divertissement from the Bournonville
masterpiece "La Sylphide" was full of youthful
poise and accomplishment. Angela Lo was a petite La Sylphide,
showing all the allure and mystique of the role, and a refined
technique. Her partner Paul Matthew, dancing
the role of James, the Scottish farmer who has deserts his
fiancée, was skillful, with good leaps, although
he lacked a little Celtic fire. The Grand Divertissement
was softly charming - with the 10 sylphs and Queen of the
Forest Sylphs in perfect harmony capturing the quiet poetry
of the ballet.
The following contemporary male solo to Puccini's "Nessun
Dorma" was unnecessarily at odds with the previous
restrained classicism. It was a strong work that needed
to be better integrated into the flow of the programme.
Bare-chested macho dancers, William Pratt (on the first
night) and David Tandy (the second), gave it their all to
Natalie Weir's passionate and gymnastic choreography. Both
dancers showed great physical strength and conviction, carving
out and commanding both space and floor.
Australian Garry Stewart's "Currently Under Investigation"
was a white, funky and upbeat piece, suiting the youth of
the dancers. They were smooth and slick as they moved in
and out of clever patterning, partnering and ensemble work
- melding hip hop, gymnastic and break dance moves to the
contemporary movement vocabulary. Balanchine's choreography
and Gershwin's songs are a winning combination - and the
duet to "The Man I Love" from the ballet "Who
Cares" was a challenging duet for Bianca Hopkins and
David Tandy. Seemingly full of thirties lazy beguile, it
was nevertheless an exacting piece that the couple pulled
off with jazzy style.
Bright exotic colours and fine craftsmanship are Sue Healey's
hallmark for her intelligent work. In an especially commissioned
work for the season - "Ten Minutes of Time" -
she played with tempo and perceptions of time, pulling in
and out of movement and building up concentration, depth
and nuance. But her subtleties were sometimes lost on the
dancers and they lacked the maturity to fully realise the
piece's intricacies.
Jeffrey Tan's ballet duet "Façade" was
beautiful. Set to Barber's lyrical Adagio for Strings, Tan
says of the piece that it reveals our inner selves. Antonia
Hewitt and David Tandy, in 'near naked' leotards, revealed
strength, control and sensitivity in lovely partnering as
they balanced on and wound over each other. It was both
distant and abstract, intimate and impassioned.
There was a sense of reverence to the ensemble contemporary
piece "With The Company We Keep" by David Massingham.
The dancers, in somber brown robes began by placing and
picking up mats as if they were precious votives. Confined
to one small area they moved communally, in soft and folded
movement. They were gradually replaced by purple robed dancers
who dissipated the intensity, moving out and into space,
breaking in and out of patterns, lines. A new work, it was
solemn, hypnotic - reassuring.
The last piece, Street Songs by Val Caniparoli was full
of caprice. Set to Carl Orff's Orff-Schulwer that incorporated
children's choruses, it was full of charming vignettes.
There were clever virtuosic dancing, duets as romances came
and went, moments when disembodied point shoed feet waved
and fluttered from the side. It was whimsical and engaging
choreography and the dancers sparkled.
Even though the graduating dancers were not always capable
of totally encompassing the challenges that some of these
complex pieces demanded, it was refreshing to see powerful
classical and new contemporary danceworks being performed
exceptionally well. To give young dancers the opportunity
to stretch themselves on works that demand strong technique
and perceptive interpretation is laudable. The School is
to be congratulated for its vision and adventurous spirit.
It bodes well for the future of New Zealand dance.
Coppelia
by Briar Wilson
Royal New Zealand Ballet, Aotea Centre, Auckland, December
2004
This was a performance that I spoke of beforehand as the
last Coppélia I would go to. Unexpectedly, I found
I was not bored but was drawn into its magic by the music
of Delibes and (like many before me) by the way the dance
relates to the music - or is i, the way the music relates
to the dance?
Delibes, like Tchaikovsky later on, was commissioned to
write for this dance and its story. He had the gift of writing
music full of melody that inspires a dancer, and his orchestration
is admired as adding colour to the action. Most commentators
credit the survival of Coppélia -his music.
The original production of 1870 had much that was new.
It was a collaboration between choreographer, (Arthur Saint-
Léon, ballet master at the Paris Opera), composer,
(Leo Delibes), and librettist (Charles Nuitter), and it
successfully achieved what is usually expected today -the
integration of music, movement, sets and plot. There were
other firsts - although the plot is unreal, it had real
people in it rather than supernatural beings; it used the
theme of bringing a doll to life; it incorporated national
dances such as the czardas and the mazurka.
The overture speaks of wistful dreams and of having fun,
but not of disappointment - and that is how it all turns
out. Dr Coppélius has the vision of bringing a doll
to life, but accepts failure after reimbursement - it is,
after all, a comedy not a tragedy. The story is about a
rocky time in the courtship of Swanilda (danced beautifully
and cleverly by Yo Takayama) and Franz (danced not so impressively
by Mikhail Plain). Takayama was light and gay, wonderfully
in character, with clean movements. Plain, while presenting
Franz well as a lively show-off, produced some shaky lifts,
and some ungainly turns. Sir Jon Trimmer's mime, as Coppélius,
added a darker, not so comic, edge to the story.
The choreography is not the original, but is based on the
revision by Cecchetti of a version by Petipa, as staged
in London by Sergeyev in 1933 - and where Franz is, unlike
the original, danced by a man. Our ballet company first
danced it in 1955. Most of the interesting action is in
the first two acts, the third containing divertissements
and character dances. The mime was well done (the audience
could easily understand it), but the burlesque could have
been toned down - how could a comic innkeeper protect Coppélius
from bullies? Also seen on some dancers were those terrible
fixed smiles. This production borrowed perfect set and costumes
from Australia (designer Kristian Fredrikson) - the workshop
in Act II was wonderfully spooky with a marvelous collection
of dolls.
Book Reviews
by Jennifer Shennan
This review discusses two books as unlike as left foot/right
foot,- but I need both for walking.
How about you?
Dark Lover: The Life and Death of Rudolph Valentino
by Emily W.Leider
Faber & Faber 2003 514 pages, 86 b&w photographs
ISBN 0-571-21818-0 Cloth UK 20 pounds
I once asked my Mother who her girlhood filmstar hearthrob
had been: "Rudolf Valentino" came the swift reply.
I was thus easily tempted into buying this biography to
find out more about that most interesting of decades, 1920s
-and perhaps something about my Mother. I was not disappointed
on either front. Emily Leider traces the life and loves
of the Italian-born, Americanmigrant, hugely celebrated
film actor and dancer. One of his partners was Natacha Rambova
who had trained at Paris Opera and in New York with Kosloff.
They married and the two co-starred in numerous films, for
which Rambova also occasionaly did the design. This marriage
lasted longer than his first one had ( to Jean Acker who
momentarily forgot she was lesbian and agreed to the marriage
- but it lasted only a few hours ).
The era of silent movies gave the viewers'eye twice the
pleasure and this dark hero was no mean looker. There are
86 photographs to prove that ... but Valentino had much
more than just good looks. Videos of the films - (the legendary
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - starring Valentino as
Julio the Tango dancer - was restored in 1990) and lets
us see the acting talent that many, including Charlie Chaplin,
generously praised.
The book is more than a biography however.
Leider manages to explore, in tandem, notions of the outsider
in 20th century American culture, of the hallmarks of attractive
and desirable masculinity within gender consciousness, the
history of filmmaking, and the attendant phenomena of media
constructions of celebrity. Valentino studied Nijinsky portraits
and those of other dancers besides. Ken Russell's 1977 film,
Valentino, ridiculously distorts the life but Nureyev, who
played the lead role in it said: "Valentino was an
instinctive dancer who moved with great elegance. He was
remarkable for his feline suppleness, his animal way of
propelling himself with a minimum of gesture and great naturalness.
It was his intensity that set him apart. It wasn't his looks
that counted, it was his acting. He had conviction."
So I can see what did it for my Mother.
The book is a fine and stimulating read. Tere's much in
it for those interested in dance history as well as film
and social history - and New Zealand readers will find some
echoes and parallels with the beautiful book by Haworth
and Miller of the dancing life and times of Freda Stark
in Auckland.
Getting Closer - A Dancer's Perspective
Photographs by Rosalie O'Connor - Foreword by Julio Bocca
University Press of Florida 2004 ISBN - 0-8130-2768-3 Cloth
US$29.95
Yet another book of stunning ballet photographs? More camera
than choreographic art?
Well it's true the photographs are stunning. They're mostly
action shots from performance, or backstage, or in the studio,-
close on a hundred of them, grainy black and white, with
the moments and angles superbly judged. Intimate, not posed,
dancers inside roles, focussed, off-guard, pensive, disciplined,
liberated. But haven't we seen this before? (There exist
plenty of "books" of randomly assembled photographic
studies of dancers in extreme poses. Such is, in fact, my
least favourite genre of dance book since it cultivates
the notion of a mindless art).
What's new here is that all the photographs are taken by
O'Connor who danced in American Ballet Theatre under Baryshnikov's
direction, photographed her colleagues for a hobby, retired
from performing after a major foot injury - but kept right
on photographing. So these are images taken "from the
inside". O'Connor then interviewed each dancer or a
close colleague and asked for their comments and memories
of that particular caught moment (or else wrote the comment
herself). That's what makes the book unusual;- extended
captions of dancers talking about their own experience of
the act and the art.
My sole quibble: I'm always saddened when an otherwise
beautiful photo has to be severed by a centre page fold-
but there are only a few of those in this book. You would
want every day to leave it propped open at a different favourite
page (and there are plenty of those) for inspiration as
you pass by. Fabulous.
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