31 October 2026. Black Grace Fale, Auckland reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
The Eggyssey is the first season in the new Black Grace Fale (home), their newly converted premises near Karangahape Rd. Newton in Auckland, the first they have owned, after decades of renting elsewhere around town. Studios double as performance areas, and management, study, library and archive facilities are all housed there. There’s a lean and very hardworking directorate (Neil and Abby Ieremia) who keep a tight rein on everything, regular international appearances included. The entrance area to the Fale is a welcoming space resembling a marae, so audiences and performers can mingle easily after the show. Well done Black Grace. Talofa lava.
Two large murals are up on the walls of the entrance—one is of a traditional Samoan orator wearing the distinctive bright red ula fala, pandanus seedpod necklace. He represents the past and the present. Opposite is a bright-eyed boy wearing a space helmet and an ula fale. He represents the present and the future. Nice one.
The Eggyssey is a witty parody of The Odyssey (though not nearly as long). The one hour-long action-packed show is underway and the capacity audience is spared no quarter as wild and wonderful party dancing builds (except it only looks like party dancing as many of the sequences are immaculately synchronised). The Company B cast are graduates of the year’s first full-time intensive training course, joined by members of the Black Grace company. All of them perform at full-speed high-octane energy levels that make you feel younger just by being in the audience. Their stamina, precision and focus are faultless. It’s a helter-skelter and we are on it, holding tight and laughing, or maybe crying, as we head towards Ithaca.
The program note reads:
In The Eggyssey we look at which came first, the chicken or the egg? A seemingly simple question opens the door to a journey into the unknown. Inspired by The Odyssey, The Eggyssey invites us to embrace curiosity, challenge assumptions and question the very nature of our existence. Who are we before we know who we are? What comes first: our purpose or our being? Perhaps the answers matter less than the questions themselves. After all the journey of existence begins with the courage to wonder
In the second to last scene, the torrid pace turns quiet and everything stops as one performer then another quietly walks forward holding a placard or a one-word message to let us know the values they actually stand by or aspire to, behind all their youthful ebullience. The silence is deafening. The words are: Peace, Love, Compassion, Perspective, Empathy, Equity, Understanding, Representation, Yeah Nah, Passion. Says it all really.
29 October 2026. St James Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
This season of The Sleeping Beauty is a restaging of RNZB’s spirited production from 2011, and artistic director Ty King-Wall has ingeniously invited back a number of the original players for the project. That’s not just a matter of nostalgia but brings mana to the stage, and echoes the Royal Danish Ballet’s practice of incorporating mature dancers as character artists in their productions. This company was founded by Danish dancer Poul Gnatt over 70 years ago, and the fact that Gnatt was one of the most renowned Bluebird dancers in Europe in his day is not lost on us either.
This production scores on many levels, and does RNZB and NZSO proud. There is an extensive national tour to seven cities across as many weeks, the logistics of which, for a production on this scale, including different orchestras in various centres, are staggering. This Company has never been cowed by challenges however (remember RNZB is the ‘most touring’ ballet company in the world) and while that is not the focus of the opening night, I thought I’d mention it anyway.
Choreographic treatment ‘after Petipa’, is by Greg Horsman, (former ballet-master at RNZB, later associate-artistic-director at Queensland Ballet), with set and costume design by Gary Harris (former artistic director of RNZB). Between them they create an assured elegance and classicism, with an impressively mobile set (dancers cleverly doubling as stage hands), of mediaeval grandeur (originally inspired by First Church, Dunedin), leavened with colour, much mischief, and a ditzy cat.
Tightened dramaturgy gives sustained roles to several characters traditionally only encountered as entertainers in the final wedding scene. Catalabutte the cat is Private Secretary to the King and responsible for all the mayhem that follows from getting the christening guest list wrong. A pair of caged Bluebirds are the parents’ wedding gift, the bluebirds of happiness encountered in many literary and visual art representations… even if the crazy cat has a different quest in mind all evening.
Such innovations are all of course bound by Tchaikovsky, and the over-long original score, arranged by Nigel Gaynor (former music director at RNZB, then with Queensland Ballet), is as keen and skilful as was all his work in his time here with Company.
The classic fairy-tale is known in early European iterations, some of them horrifyingly macabre, from wildly Gothic Charles Perrault, to the somewhat milder version by the Brothers Grimm. My young grand-daughter helpfully brings me up to date with Walt Disney’s additions of The Shield of Protection, The Sword of Truth, and The Fiery Dragon, though we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Does it all make for good theatre? Yes, it does.
This allegory of parents’ concern for the wellbeing of their children starts with joy at the birth of a first baby, turning to terror when a curse is visited on the child’s health and future. The death sentence is commuted to a life sentence, the child will come of age at 16, there will be blood, no longer a child, followed by a 100 year wait for true love, which as we know can take at least that long in the world off-stage.
The opening scene has the King played by guest artist Vivencio Samblaceno (formerly a valued dancer with RNZB). His superb timing of gestures is the ‘Once upon a time’ of the evening. Alone in a room of the palace, nervously pacing the floor, as does every father of a first-born, while his wife is in labour (off-stage!). To help calm his nerves the King engages Catalabutte, to prepare the invitation list for the forthcoming christening. Here’s trouble for a nervous king and a ditzy cat.
The full cast rich with colour and character make poignant contrast to the central role of the Princess Aurora, Mayu Tanigaito. She keeps her fabulous technique discreet while her musicality and sense of alignment bring the poetry and delicacy of her interpretation to the fore. Her Rose Adagio is exquisitely danced. Later the pairing with the Prince, Laurynas Vejalis, brings pas de deux of real rapport and deep joy, greater than the sum of its steps. His dancing is equally pedigree, always avoiding the distractions of bravura. Theirs is a partnership of consummate quality in the ballet canon. Tell your grandchildren you saw them dance.
The line-up of fairies, colour coded to the gifts they bring, deliver attractive solos each of distinctive quality. Lilac Fairy, by Ana Gallardo Lobaina, another artist of formidable technical ability, is beautifully danced with calm authority and grace throughout.
So now to Carabosse, pure evil disguised as great beauty, beware of that, the thorn on the stem of the black crystal rose. Kirby Selchow always delivers the drama of a character centre stage and in this role, tailor-made for her, she excels. But good eventually prevails, sealed with a kiss (and what a kiss!), and Carabosse is banished to the realm of war-mongering dogs this world knows too well.
There are multiple changes of cast throughout the extended season. We do not get cast lists except online, but we’re required to turn our cell phones off before curtain up ̶̶̶ so how do we know who is playing Catalabutte tonight with such hilarious timing and ubiquitous presence? Aha, we find out later, and are not surprised that it is Kohei Iwamotu, the adored dancer (formerly with RNZB, later with Queensland Ballet) who was Puck and Mercutio and more besides when he was here. Never forgotten.
Hamish McKeich is conducting the NZSO, impeccably of course, using the one arm that works. Let that be an example to us all.
Li Cunxin, known from his memoir and the associated film as Mao’s Last Dancer (Viking/Penguin 2003) now goes by another name as well—The Lucky Son, which is the title of his memoir sequel, recently published (Penguin, 2026).
This second book, artfully because briefly, summarises the first one for anyone who may not have read it, and then continues the subsequent professional career, primarily at Queensland Ballet, which he shared with his wife, the dancer Mary Li (whose own memoir, Mary’s Last Dance, has also been published by Penguin, 2020).
There are insights into the ballet world, and how its politics and culture play out in different countries and different companies. Li’s and Mary’s shared dance careers as performers, directors and teachers, are stellar by any measure, but it is in fact the family’s personal story that turns the pages. The book traces their fortunes and luck, both good and bad, sharing with a remarkable honesty, how they made it through some seriously dark times of family health and welfare challenges. Always their combined indomitable spirit rises to the surface, and they move forwards, because moving backwards is not an option. Li counts his blessings and considers himself, on balance, a lucky son.
Li was a guest of the RAD in Wellington recently, as they marked the 91 years of their operation in New Zealand. At a gala event (at which Anne Rowse was made an Honorary Fellow of the RAD for her stirling service to dance in New Zealand for decades), Li spoke to the guests in a way that was focused yet modest, supportive, encouraging, humane—for at least 10 minutes, with no notes in sight. That rarely happens, so you know that when it does, the speaker is someone who knows how to make his words mean something.
No point in my paraphrasing The Lucky Son. Best you read it for yourself
Jennifer Shennan, 23 October 2026
Featured image: Li Cunxin from the cover of The Lucky Son
The intrepid Russian ballet dancer, Anna Pavlova, said goodbye to the Maryinksy in St. Petersburg where she had trained and performed to great acclaim, then joined Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes company dancing Giselle, Les Sylphides, Pavillon d’Armide, and more besides. She was offered the title role in the creation of Fokine’s l’Oiseau de Feu/The Firebird but did not like Stravinsky’s score so she turned it down.
Pavlova soon formed her own company, developed her own aesthetic and repertoire, and toured to countries far and wide, ‘taking ballet to the world’. Fokine had created for her Le Cygne/The Swan, to music by Saint-Saens, which she premiered at a charity event for poor and needy mothers and children. That solo became her talisman role in all the following years of international touring to Europe, America, China, Japan, India, Indonesia, Australia and New Zealand. There were 50 dancers and over 20 orchestral musicians in her company. They gave 38 performances in 39 days in New Zealand, and noteworthy that they still managed to produce printed programs with venues, dates and cast lists included, for each season (bring back the day!)—so I can tell from the program who and what my father saw when he attended her performance in Dunedin in 1926.
While touring in India, Pavlova encouraged serious interest in local classical dance traditions, resulting in following years in the formation by Sri Rukmini Devi of Kalakshetra, which over time became the world’s leading school of Bharata Natyam (and the alma mater of Vivek Kinra who has taught and performed in Wellington for over thirty years). From little acorns, big oaks grow.
There’s also evidence of the interest in Maori dance that Pavlova and other company dancers, including Harcourt Algeranoff, pursued during their visit to New Zealand in 1926. (See his memoir, My Years with Pavlova. It was my great good fortune to attend both of the inspirational summer schools of residence at the University of New England in Armidale organised by Peggy van Praagh, in 1967 and again in 1969. Algeranoff was present at the first of those schools and gave a spirited demonstration of the Coachmen’s dance from Petrouchka that he had performed with Ballets Russes, and later in the Australian premiere of that ballet. I so looked forward to seeing him again in action at the second of those schools in 1969, but tragically he was killed in a motorbike accident in the intervening year).
There’s a famous photograph of Pavlova’s welcome to Wellington in 1926, with Thurza Rogers, local dancer by then in Pavlova’s company, together with her former teacher Estelle Beere whose studio was considered the leading one in Wellington at the time. The company dancers travelled by rail so were already in Wellington to welcome Pavlova when she arrived driven by car (her own car shipped out, no less!) A Maori man is prominent in the group photo of the occasion and is clearly in the official party.
Film was in its pioneering days in early 20th century. Diaghilev would have no truck with it as it distorted the timing and quality of dance movement, so he put all his investment into commissioning studio photographs instead. Thus, there is no film of Nijinsky dancing, instead there are numerous volumes of studio photographs of that phenomenal artist, surviving as works of art in their own right.
Contemporary re-masterings of whatever film does survive from that era (of Pavlova, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker etc.) tend to confirm Diaghilev’s stand as we have no idea what slow motion editing has been employed, and as all dancers know, timing is everything.
Pavlova too was a firm believer in quality dance photography and she committed a great deal of time, focus and cash to ensuring that numerous photographic sessions were arranged wherever she toured. In Wellington, the celebrated photographer S. P. Andrew worked with her until 2.00am in a post-performance session in the Opera House. He must have stayed up till dawn processing the prints because she subsequently arrived at his studio to view them and was eager to purchase no fewer than 800 prints from him, paying for them in cash. She was especially delighted by his study of her in costume for The Swan—where he had placed a fine black tulle overlay atop her tutu to prevent the glare of a camera flash from shadowing her face—but her hand was somehow lost in the angle of her bodice so, upon her comment to that effect, Andrew drew in by pen her ‘missing’ hand. (You don’t notice this until someone points it out, after which of course it’s all you can see).
To mark the centenary of Pavlova’s visit here, I and a colleague Dr. Ian Lochhead, gave talks at public libraries or art galleries in Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin. It was of real interest to speak with attendees after the talks, to learn how their personal history and interest in dance had developed, where, when and with whom. The ephemeral art of dance only survives in books and memories, so we are duty bound to keep those flowing. Obliging librarians in Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin provided book displays and handouts with selected book titles (Cyril Beaumont and Paul Magriel might be my current favourites among them).
Edouard Borovansky stayed behind in Australia after Pavlova’s company returned to Europe. He brought his own company many times to New Zealand—which is how my generation came to know the European ballet repertoire. Poul Gnatt came with the company on its 1952 visit, then returned the following year to form the New Zealand Ballet. The rest is history. How lucky was I to be among his first intake of pupils in Auckland. I remember his classes as yesterday.
Counterpointe in Christchurch, directed by Monica Brosnahan, is the only ballet school left in this country providing live music accompaniment for classes and performances. (Top marks to them. Canned music is used everywhere else). Counterpointe ‘s current project is to reconstruct costumes from original designs for The Fairy Doll, in which Pavlova had danced—and to perform that in their recital on 13 December (check their website for performance details), to a 16 piece orchestra that their music director, Daniel Cooper, will conduct. (Music by Bayer, choreography N & S Legat, and I. Khlyustin). The young costumed dancers attended our talk at the Christchurch Arts Centre, hanging on every word. May they have long dancing lives.
I thought those of us who believe that dance and music are but two aspects of the same art were a dying breed these days. Indian and Maori tradition have never separated the two arts. Counterpointe gives renewed hope to the rest of us, and Pavlova would be comforted too.
Jennifer Shennan, 20 October 2026
UPDATE (MP, 21 October 2026): Below is the image mentioned above in which photographer S. P. Andrew added the ‘missing hand’. With thanks to Jennifer for providing it.
22 August 2026. Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Turid Revfeim is director of Ballet Collective Aotearoa and she never says No to a challenge, which leads to a range of interesting projects for the collective, both locally and nationally. Tānemahuta Gray is an established free-lance choreographer and force majeure for integration of Maori history and myths into the contemporary political, civic and artistic culture of Aotearoa New Zealand.
The evening at this concert began very well indeed with what was probably the best and most informative pre-performance talk I can remember (which was consoling because the last ppt I had attended, by a different group across town, was probably the worst and least informative I’ve ever known). Orchestra Wellington’s director-conductor, Marc Taddei, interviewed Tānemahuta for insight into the choreographic process of his dance work to Darius Milhaud’s Creation.
The Michael Fowler Centre is not an easy space to stage dance, but it is the home venue for Orchestra Wellington concerts so there was some degree of anticipation as to how the musicians and dancers would share the stage. (An earlier project between OW and BCA involved Bartok’s The Miraculous Mandarin, and the staging of that work, dancing in two dimensions up in the choir seats above the orchestra, was itself something of a miracle).
Milhaud’s music has an atmosphere of 1920s Paris, jazz, rhythms of African percussion and its own air of modernism. Gray confessed that despite listening to the music for 1001 nights he could not source a libretto of a creation story in it. He instead resorted to a selection of themes from Maori mythology of the creation of the world, the separation of Papatuanuku-Earth Mother, from Ranginui-Sky Father, and the role their children played in that cataclysm. Gray then ingeniously wound time back to the original attraction between Rangi and Papa, to the conception and procreation of their children. In other words, the birth of a child was presented as the original creative act. (The truth is that all cultures’ creation stories involve some form of incest to procreate the human race but it was movingly explained in the pre-performance talk that Maori myth accepts that as a reality, unlike most codified religions which ignore the biological necessity). That insight definitely helped us to follow the choreographic play in performance.
The front of the auditorium was treated as the Underworld, so dancers climbing up onto the stage were entering the world of light. Gray stood to chant a powerful karakia before the orchestra began the Milhaud score. The team of seven dancers adopted different forms of stylised movement that broadened the reference beyond Te Ao Maori. The inventive work was focussed and well-carried and arrived at a final sculptured grouping that reminded me of Maori carved figures in a traditional lintel. It was a masterstroke to have Gray again chanting a closing poem after the Milhaud had ended, cadencing in the repeated mantra of Hi ! Ha ! —with the group of dancers rising and lowering in subtle but powerful breathing, in and out, as the first act of life. That image will stay with all who recognised it. Tihei mauriora, the breath of life.
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I found extra resonance in another work on the program, Bela Bartok’s Concerto for two pianos, percussion and orchestra—since that had been the music chosen by Ashley Killar when Artistic Director of RNZBallet back in the early 90’s—for his one-act ballet Dark Waves. After a Nabokov short story, it gave Jon Trimmer one of his finest roles as the blind husband, fearing that his much younger wife was having an affair. The work was only performed on the company’s tour to America (to great acclaim as it happens) but never publicly in New Zealand (I had been privileged to see a studio rehearsal before the tour). Upon return, a rescheduling of repertoire was Killar’s desperate attempt to survive the scandalous chapter when the Arts Council of the day tried to close the Company down. They were unsuccessful of course (nobody closes down the New Zealand Ballet that Poul Gnatt formed in 1953) but that remarkable Dark Waves was lost in the struggle of survival. Jon Trimmer is dead but Killar is not—Sonya Behrnes and Kim Broad played leading roles, are around and could help with staging. It should not be impossible to hope for a revival since historical masterworks in the repertoire are what define a company’s identity.
This film, directed by Olga Malířová, traces the life and work of one of the world’s foremost choreographers, Jiří Kylián, but is at the same time far more than just a conventional documentary. Rather it is an exquisitely sequenced portrayal of the rich artistic rapport between Kylián and his muse, the wonderful dancer Sabine Kupferberg. The pair pace and dance and are filmed on the sand hills, across the shoreline and into the sea along the north coast of The Netherlands.
The resonance of imagery in the film’s setting is extraordinary—the sands of time, an ocean of love, a game of chess at a picnic on the beach, a choreographer with a megaphone and a dancer whose stiletto heels keep subsiding into the sand, a wild couple frantically exchanging coats, who wear hats but cannot always keep their hats on, who stride towards each other from afar but miss the meeting, who struggle to climb a sandhill but can only slide backwards down the slope, who grow older but remember their past all the more clearly for that, who share their personal stories of exile and immigration, of upbringing in an orphanage, in an essay of time and tide, set against murmurations of seabirds—gliding gulls and migrating godwits. The scenography is as beautiful as any I’ve seen, or expect to see.
The film encompasses wider themes of loyalty and betrayal at both national and personal levels, of loss and love, of ageing and fulfilment and fate, and the rapture in the very reality of being alive, while keeping close to memories of those who have passed. There are almost unbearably poignant scenes of Kylián being invited back to his homeland after some years of enforced exile. The film points to the power and web of politics that marked so much of life in 20th century Europe.
Early in his career Kylián was in the company of John Cranko in Stuttgart; it’s worth noting that John Neumeier also gained his early career opportunities with Cranko. How fertile that legacy has proved. From their earliest dance collaboration the mutual inspiration passing between Jiri and Sabine resulted in a torrent of choreography over decades (too numerous to list all the titles here—easy for you to check Jiří Kylián‘s stylish website for that wealth of information).
Excerpts from the archive of Jiří Kylián’s choreographies are interwoven into the film, but only make you wish you could see each of the complete works. It has to be an unmatched achievement in world dance that Kylián not only put Nederlands Dans Theater on the world map but also formed a second company, NDT2, for dancers others might consider too young, then a third company, ND3, for dancers others might consider too old.
Back in 1980s Kylián ventured into outback Australia to search for the significance in Aboriginal people’s dance practice. The resulting film, Road to the Stamping Ground, stays in the memory of all who saw it.
This new film, screened here as the world premiere, also acts as a memory trigger for us of Kylián‘s powerful Soldatenmis, to Martinu’s Mass for the Unknown Soldier—memorably performed in 1990s by Royal New Zealand Ballet then under the direction of the late Matz Skoog. That proved one of the strongest works in their repertoire over decades. Also memorable was the visit of NDT to the International New Zealand Festival of Arts when they performed the moving Requiem, to Mozart’s incomparable music. A work like that can help someone who might be stuck in grief.
Local readers who may have missed the single film screening here can purchase online streaming access for the next two weeks. Sad to report viewing from outside New Zealand is not possible. That must incentivise festival programmers elsewhere to book it for their schedules. The only weak point about the film is that its title does not alert viewers to its subject. There should at least be a sub-title—Jiri Kylián, master choreographer.
16 July 2026. St.James Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
This triple bill showcases the impressive versatility of Royal New Zealand Ballet dancers. Within a 90 minute time-frame, they perform Frederick Ashton’s Birthday Offering, a 70 year old work of highly demanding classical style, imported from England; Sarah Foster-Sproull’s Ultra Folly, a clever and quirky home-grown piece commissioned by the Company in 2020; and Andrea Schermoly’s Stand to Reason, a searingly powerful dramatic work, also an RNZB commission in 2018, from a South African choreographer but on a New Zealand subject. A number of the dancers perform in every work, revealing the wide range of their artistic and technical skills, as well as the heroic stamina demanded of them. There’s not a weak moment in the entire performance.
The much-esteemed Matz Skoog, former artistic director of RNZB, has died recently and this season is dedicated to his memory. Matz often spoke of the challenge an artistic director faces in assembling a triple bill. (It’s much ‘easier’ to stage a single complete work—start with Act One, continue on till you reach Act Four and then stop). So, what to commission and what to re-stage? to combine with what, the old and the new, the tried and the true? then in what sequence? (get this wrong and you can spoil the evening). Beauty, poetry, drama/comedy, abstract, narrative/traditional, modernist, political? and all within a credible budget. The choices made reveal the true measure of an artistic director, and with this program Ty King-Wall proves equal to the challenge.
Birthday Offering is a period piece from 1956 but even then was styled after a much earlier period of ballet’s classicism. Seven couples at a celebration perform défilés in several directions, then six of the women dance filigree solos, each styled with a hint of contrasting personality between them. The technical demands of these solos are intense but to the credit of each performer they are danced with great assurance, grace and meticulous timing. The male partners stand as pillars across the back of the stage for what seems like ages, but that’s the choreography so you can’t go changing it in Wellington. The lead couple, Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis give their exquisite pas de deux a deeply affecting quality, using port de bras in such a loving way that humanises the formal classicism of the movements involved. A pity that the Glazounov recording seems so muddy and uncelebratory—even though Robert Irving, arguably the best ballet conductor of his time, was involved in scoring the arrangements. (I once heard Irving conduct Ravel’s Tzigane at New York City Ballet, where in some kind of alchemy he merged the composition and choreography into one). Birthday Offering, staged here by England’s Royal Ballet, is meticulously faithful to the original. For some in our audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening.
Ultra Folly, first commissioned here in 2018, was recently performed in London when RNZB was invited to participate the International Draft Works (IDW) season (see my earlier review on On Dancing…). Foster-Sproull has two couples in a bright and quirky commoedic play on manners, dancing with spoof and sauce, delivered with impeccable timing.
It’s a far cry in style from the driving passion in the music, La Folie d’Espagne & Variations from 17th century chamber music here played by Jordi Savall and Hesperion XX1.
The IDW project is a heartening demonstration of how international co-operation in ballet is possible, and one wishes there could be more of that since ballet is not a sports code requiring one team to win and the other to lose. All are winners. Eight companies were invited to participate, so a source of pride for us all that RNZB was included. For some in our audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening.
Then comes the knockout—Stand to Reason. This is a powerful tribute to the courage and struggles in the pioneering suffragette movement led here by Kate Sheppard. Take your right to vote for granted by all means, don’t waste it, find a politician you can trust (good luck) but never forget that New Zealand led the world in that path to universal suffrage. Schermoly’s work has driven movement, with design and lighting faultlessly integrated, to the superbly motivating music of Marin Marais (such good dance music that baroque composers have left for choreographers of later generations to explore). Rarely is the theme of any dance work so intensely stitched in to every move by every dancer —here in the large cast, solely female. The solo created specially for Kirby Selchow is danced with stunning strength and commitment, and one can only salute and remember that. How good would it be to make a film of this work.
I cannot help but be reminded of Soldatenmis, by Jiří Kylián, one of the world’s leading choreographers programmed here in the 1990s by Matz Skoog. That had a large cast, solely male, unless a female (Joan of Arc) had to step up at the last minute to replace an injured player, as did, most memorably, happen here in both of the seasons Skoog staged.
(Local readers, take note of the film in the current Documentary Film Festival—Return to the Strange Land, by and about Kylian—a single screening only, Sunday 27 July, at The Roxy, in a small theatre, inexplicably not yet sold out twice over).
A young audience member quietly said after seeing this work—’That’s the first ballet I’ve seen that doesn’t sexualise a woman waiting and waiting for some man to come and put his hands around her waist and twirl her round and round on the spot. It reminds me of karate. That was amazing.’
For some in the audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening. Count me in.
3 July 2026. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Fever/Dream is a program of five works performed by the current members of Ballet Collective Aotearoa. Turid Revfeim has for some years now established and directed this independent collective, offering regular classes and creating opportunities for free-lance dancers to perform and choreograph. Their work is of consistently high standard and brings much of interest to our stages.
(See my earlier reviews on On Dancing of their Subtle Dances with NZTrio musicians playing live on stage, touring nationally to many arts festivals on the circuit here; Bartok’sThe Miraculous Mandarin with Orchestra Wellington; and most memorably Schoenberg’s Transfigured Night with NZ String Quartet in a Chamber Music NZ project). They do small-scale and local shows as well.
Effectively BCA is a private ballet company. It’s been a long time since Ida Rubinstein used her considerable fortune to set up one of those in Paris, and to commission choreographies in which she herself performed the central (if not too demanding) roles. Money talks but it doesn’t usually say much. But Revfeim is no Rubinstein. Quite how she keeps BCA going, with no Board and no budget is something of a mystery, probably as much to her as to the rest of us, but there it is, and we should salute them.
The opening work, Fever, choreographed by Lyndon Foley, is a small masterpiece, beautifully crafted. Remember his name and hope he can continue choreographing. A tight group of six dancers deliver a faultless phenomenon of a million movements many of them mechanical, a few of them poignant, without ever losing the central thrust. The piece echoes the themes in Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, and Gertrud Bodenwieser’s The Demon Machine — so of course also resonates with the AI scenario that hovers over our heads today. One dancer is a conscientious objector for about 30 seconds but we do not miss it. Later there’s a short-lived motif of someone down on the floor swimming — for dear life, I guess. Aren’t we all?
Then follows Fever to Dream, a video by Hanna Harris and Olivia Duncan. Four dancers are caught cavorting among the roses at the local Botanical Gardens, then In Lambton Quay, then at Oriental Bay so there was no doubt what city we were in. A skilled poem, one word to a line, ran down the side of the screen — Fever, Lever, Lover, Loves, Loses, Loser, Laser … and so on till the final line, reached by a single letter change from Dread to Dream. The poem was reproduced in the printed program (hooray that there was one) and gave a spine to all the other works on the program.
Paths Cross, directed by Turid Revfeim, grew from a beginning in improvisation. Contrasting dance styles from each performer gave the work an interesting and impressive texture. Grit-S a solo performed by Zoe White, accompanied by Jefferson Chen on stage singing and playing keyboard. Unfortunately in the performance I attended the volume was very loud, which made it difficult to hear and to follow the subtleties that were obviously present.
(D)rea(m)lity, choreographed by Zoe White, makęs a striking and dramatic final work, playing off awake and asleep states, a somewhat terrifying dream sequence, then an inspired lighting trick to assure us all is well. Then follows an ambiguous ending that could be seen as a challenge to that assurance. This is what theatre is for.
Postscript: Several of the pieces used a haze machine, which, next to strobe lighting, is my least favourite trick from the tech crew. If a hazy effect is required then choreograph it I say, don’t turn on a mindless machine as you risk at least some of the audience closing their eyes, which means they might miss really important and intelligent choreography.
A conversation between Kirby Selchow and Jennifer Shennan on the International Draft Works program held in April 2026, Linbury Theatre, London
The Royal New Zealand Ballet was one of the nine companies invited to take part in the Royal Ballet UK’s International Draft Works in an April 2026 season at Linbury Theatre, London. The initiative for this project—to assemble draft or new works from emerging choreographers within select companies, for shared performances and following workshops—was first proposed back in 2020 when Amanda Skoog was on the staff at Royal Ballet UK. The project back then had to be cancelled at the very last minute due to Covid lockdowns. Now these six years later, it has been revived by the Royal Ballet and is back on track. Dancers are nothing if not resilient.
The participating companies were Northern Ballet, Ballet d’Jérri (from Jersey Island), Royal Danish Ballet, the National Ballet of Japan, Paris Opera Ballet, the National Ballet of Canada, the Royal Ballet, Norwegian National Ballet, and Royal New Zealand Ballet. That’s quite a line-up, bringing together citizens of what I like to think of as the country called Ballet. It may not be geographically defined by national boundaries, but nonetheless shares so many connections between key players, teachers, choreographers, as to earn them passports to an international community. The world could do with more of those.
I spoke with Kirby Selchow, one of the four RNZB dancers involved (the others were Ana Gallardo Lobaina, Joshua Guillemot-Rodgerson and Kihiro Kusukami).They performed Ultra Folly, choreographed by Sarah Foster-Sproull, to the music of La Folia, recorded by Jordi Savall with Hesperion XXI. (The same work will also form part of the triple bill to be performed mid-year in a New Zealand national tour).
Kirby was intrigued when I showed her the baroque dance notation of Folies d’Espagne, choreographed in 1704 by Louis Pécour, to music by Jean-Baptise Lully—which in turn had inspired the choreography of Ultra Folly. Kirby hopes some day to learn that original dance, and is game to take on playing the castanets that will also entail. Another item that caught her eye as we were sitting in the dance library at The Long Hall was the seminar booklet given to me by Charles Mudry, formerly guest ballet-master at RNZB back in Matz Skoog’s era. The impeccably prepared notes of his gradated series of classes from first to fifth year of ballet training was an eye-opener to Kirby as she began to devour it. ‘Of course you can borrow the book Kirby—that’s why Charles bothered to write it down in the first place’).
RNZB had performed at the Linbury Theatre back in 2015 when on tour with Francesco Ventriglia as director, with A Midsummer Night’s Dream as well as a triple bill, on a tour to Italy, and UK including Scotland… so it was something of déjà vu for Kirby to be performing there again. She was thrilled to be involved and enjoyed stimulating interactions with the dancers of other companies. On a tour of Royal Ballet studios she by happy chance sighted her close colleague New Zealander Loughlan Prior, formerly with RNZB, choreographing on fellow-Australian dancer Steven McRae (see A Resilient Man—a documentary worth watching).
Participating dancers in International Draft Works were also invited to watch Alchemies, a triple bill of works by Wayne McGregor—further resonance there, since Kirby had been cast in a leading role in McGregor’s Infra, which RNZB performed here in 2024. (I had reviewed that program for Dance Europe, so it proved another bonus that the Opera House bookshop had the current issue of Dance Europe on display, this one with my review of RNZB in Alice Topp’s Macbeth from earlier this year. Big world, small world, in that country called Ballet.
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Kirby was born in Perth in 1992. Ballet, jazz and tap classes in young childhood was followed by vocational training in a secondary school of the performing arts, then five years at Australian Ballet School in Melbourne. Upon graduation, Ethan Stiefel offered her a contract with RNZB which she joined in 2014. She has been here ever since and is now a leading soloist in the Company.
Kirby’s latest challenge was to be cast as Banquo in Alice Topp’s Macbeth. A female Banquo? Well, why not. Are there not some females in high places in politics, who have the ear if not the trust of the King, at least until things start to go horribly wrong? I did not see her perform in that role but Ian Lochhead of Christchurch was most impressed by her interpretation, saying he was convinced by a female Banquo from her first appearance, as though Shakespeare had written it so.
Kirby has long been a stand-out member of RNZB, and she remains one to watch for her technical strengths and dramatic mastery of character. The role of her dreams would be Manon, and you can believe that.
29 May 2026. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Voyages was a stimulating new venture by RNZB—a program of seven short works, five of which were choreographed by Company dancers. In recent years these have been studio showings of similar programs of new or draft works, but here the chance to dance on a stage, albeit an intimate size in the Hannah Playhouse, with the added benefit of lighting, provided another welcome sign that the Company with every season is returning to its former strength and confident identity under the artistic directorship of Ty King-Wall. The happiness that engenders on both sides of the footlights is palpable. The return to a modest printed program including a cast list is more welcome to a reviewer than mere thanks can convey, and also honours those who make and deliver the dance. The record will thus stay in the archive forever, whereas digital files are not nearly so easily accessed after curtain down, let alone in years to come.
Each of the seven dance-makers offered fresh ideas and styles, and we can look forward to seeing more from each of them. Katherine Minor’s Marga’s Dance had a delightfully fresh quality as two couples ‘stopped their work, meeting a dance to fill the air’ … youthful friendship, in a fine choice to open the program.
Somewhere, by Branden Reiners, a duo of two men—’a memory of brotherhood and love’ was a charged yearning for intimacy impressively performed by Timothy Ching and Jake Gisby.
Who Came to Be, by Gretchen Steimle, had a large cast of ten dancers whose many entrances and exits, solos, duos and groups, very effectively served her theme—’Some of us grow into the spaces others leave behind’.
Phase II, by Breyah Takitimu, had another large cast of eight dancers who ‘explore the tension between the desire for control and the inevitability of change’, another very well-shaped work which included jokes about ballet technique given a sassy twist.
Weathered, by Joshua Douglas had six female dancers dressed in airy and soft grey, supporting his theme of emotional endurance ‘finding strength not through resistance but through continuation’. This was a thoughtfully shaped work.
Jeremy Beck as guest choreographer provided welcome humour in Soft Reset, a clever satire that showed the dancers might take their work but not necessarily themselves seriously. Comedy is harder to play than tragedy and this proved a hoot of a closing piece to a gem of a program.
The dancers all delivered impeccable performances, the more impressive as the audience were at very close range and any slip would have been apparent. There were no slips.
A duet, Swan Song by Shaun James Kelly, inspired by Swan Lake, used Tchaikovsky’s music to explore the personal emotion within the roles. It was exquisitely danced by Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis and you could have heard a feather drop. This was all the more poignant as it marked Shaun’s retirement from performing after twelve years with the Company, though it’s not entirely farewell and thank you as he will continue as resident choreographer with the Company. Lucky us.
