Choreography by Tim Harbour. Danced by Kevin Jackson to a score by George Bokaris.
Kevin Jackson was a dancer with the Australian Ballet from 2003, following his graduation from the Australian Ballet School, until his retirement in 2021. What remains was created for him by Tim Harbour, also a former Australian Ballet dancer now working freelance. It was filmed in an unexpected setting—an underground carpark at the University of Melbourne.
What Remains is an intimate portrayal of the artist after their life on stage, articulating the grief of losing their connection with the audience and anxieties going into the future. This is mirrored through Kevin Jackson’s own retirement from The Australian Ballet, with his final performances cancelled due to covid lockdowns. (The Australian Ballet, Behind Ballet #296).
What remains is a short work (about 5 minutes in length) and the film created around it is preceded and followed by brief discussions between Jackson and Harbour. The choreography shows the exquisitely fluid movement that characterises Jackson’s dancing and I loved that it revealed Jackson in quite a new light for me. There was a lack of stress about his dancing that was mesmerising, perhaps partly because it wasn’t a stage production, also perhaps because of the setting where architectural aspects of the space allowed a certain freedom and were used as part of the choreography. There was one moment that especially moved me. It came almost at the end when Jackson lifted his leg into a beautifully wide attitude derrière and lifted his arms to 4th position—simple, and over in a flash. But it marked Jackson as a classical artist who managed Harbour’s particular choreographic style with skill and panache.
The score by George Bokaris was hypnotic and moved between different moods, including a moment or two when a change in mood brought a rush of pleasure to my ears. The filming in black and white, which at times used pools of water on the floor of the carpark space as a kind of mirror, was engrossing. All in all a really beautiful, captivating production with great input from all involved in its creation.
Back in 2017 I had the pleasure of interviewing dancer and choreographer Shaun Parker for the National Library’s oral history program. In that interview Parker talked at length about his childhood in Mildura, his schooling, his interest in science, taking up dancing, his work with Meryl Tankard and the early days of Shaun Parker & Company. I had watched some of his performances with Meryl Tankard’s company in Adelaide and my interest in his career continued when I saw Blue Love in Canberra in 2017. My recent conversation with him, however, focused on KING, a work originally staged in 2019. KING is making its return in February as part of the Sydney WorldPride 2023 before touring to Germany, Luxembourg and Italy in June and July.
The genesis of KING actually goes back to 2015, Parker tells me. With his strong background in science that predates his dance career, he had always wanted to do a work called XY. He envisaged it as a work about gender, behaviour and world politics, all based on macro and micro aspects of chromosomes. When a workshop he set up in 2015 generated a range of ideas about what ‘maleness’ entails, and how that affects us globally, a point of departure for KING was established. At the heart of KING is, Parker says, ‘a different way of thinking about sexual identity and power and how they are linked.’
The current production is set partly in a cocktail bar and partly in a jungle, a double focus that Parker explains as highlighting the difference between rich male-identifying people ‘swanning around in dinner suits with their wine’ and the ‘thousands being slain under the watch of the rich and powerful’.
KING is a music-dance collaboration between Parker and his dancers and Bulgarian vocalist Ivo Dimchev who composed the entire score. Parker says of Dimchev:
Ivo is the protagonist. He is a phenomenal opera, cabaret, blues, pop singer. There is no one like him. He is very tall and wears velvet and tattoo-ed make-up. He sings from gut-wrenching baritone to soaring, ethereal counter-tenor. He can be both male and female sounding. Throughout the entire piece he is always among the men, provoking them, giving them ideas to play with. We watch in an observational way: what will they do now? They end up dishevelled and naked as we follow the deconstruction of power.
The role Dimchev plays is one that Parker himself was originally planning to take on. There are aspects of the work that reflect part of Parker’s life experiences, although he stresses that it is not an autobiographical work. Once he discovered Dimchev, however, and once Dimichev had agreed to take on the role, Parker stepped back. He had plenty to do beyond performing in the work. Dimchev, Parker says, is his ‘Bulgarian arts brother.’
As for the dancers, they are a mix of heterosexual, bi-sexual and homosexual artists and they are from several different cultures. As a result, they all have a unique quality to their performance.
The research and construction of the work seems to have been a complex procedure, but Parker says the result is ‘almost the simplest I have ever done.’ Parker commissioned two dramaturges, Veronica Neave and Felicity Nicol, to be part of KING. He worked extensively with them so that each scene would be clear through the choreography. ‘What can we say through the body?’ Parker asks. ‘The possibilities are endless.’ He is adamant, however, that he has to be tough on himself as he creates. He says he works on a section and then takes it to his dramaturges. He asks them to write down what the section means in just three words: he has no interest in being verbose. His intention must come across clearly to the audience. He wants the audience to see ‘a banger’.
Is KING a banger? To decide, you can see it in Sydney from 28 February to 4 March 2023.
Shaun Parker’s oral history interview recorded in 2017 is available for online listening at this link.
The featured image for this post shows dancers of the Royal New Zealand Ballet in rehearsal for a new work from Loughlan Prior, Woman of Words, which will have its premiere at the Wanaka Festival of Colour with two performances on 27 March 2023. Woman of Words focuses on the career of New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield, and in a recent newsletter Prior writes:
Mansfield played a central role in modern literature by experimenting with style, subject matter and theme, with the analysis of anxiety, sexuality and existentialism embroiled within her writing. In remining true to her brilliant and singular voice, she created a body of work that redefined the genre.
Katherine’s intense, captivating and all too short a life is brought to the stage using integrated text and sound design in collaboration with award winning editor Matthew Lambourn. Beginning with her early years growing up in Wellington, to the height of London bohemia and the Bloomsbury group, to her death at the age of thirty-four, Woman of Words celebrates Katherine’s winding journey and her passion for creativity, love and life.
See this link for more about Loughlan Prior. And if Prior’s recent works are anything to go by, Woman of Words will be a courageous production.
But to my surprise (and pleasure), I was reminded that another choreographer is looking at a woman writer as the subject of a new dance work, this time for Queensland Ballet. British-born Cathy Marston is preparing a one act ballet that focuses on the work of Australian writer Miles Franklin (full name Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin). It will premiere in Brisbane on 16 June as part of a triple bill season named Trilogy. Marston has been called a ‘narrative ballet choreographer’ so it will be interesting to see how the narrative unfolds in My Brilliant Career. But two women writers as subject matter within the space of just a few months has to be somewhat remarkable!
Publicity image for Cathy Marston’s new work, My Brilliant Career.
For more about Cathy Marston and the development of My Brilliant Career, see this link from Queensland Ballet. Another link will take you to an interview with set and costume designer for My Brilliant Career, David Fleischer.
Russell Kerr Lecture 2023
From my colleague Jennifer Shennan, here is the news about the next Russell Kerr Lecture.
The fifth Russell Kerr Lecture in Ballet & Related Arts will focus on Patricia Rianne, New Zealand dancer, choreographer and teacher with an extended career both here and abroad. She was a member of New Zealand Ballet, Ballet de l’Opéra de Marseilles, Ballet Rambert (in its new guise after Norman Morrice took over the directorship from Marie Rambert), Scottish Ballet, and was memorably partnered by Rudolf Nureyev, Peter Schaufuss, Ivan Nagy and Jon Trimmer. Trisha staged classic productions and choreographed for RNZ Ballet, also in China and Hong Kong, and taught at NZSchool of Dance and London School of Contemporary Dance. Her choreography for RNZB, Bliss, inspired by the story by Katherine Mansfield, will also feature within the lecture.
Sunday 4.00—6.00pm, 26 February 2023 The Long Hall, Roseneath, Wellington. email jennifershennan@xtra.co.nz for registration
Patricia Rianne as the Dowager Princess in Swan Lake. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 1985.
News from James Batchelor
It is always interesting to hear James Batchelor’s latest news as he traverses the world making work. In 2023, however, in addition to being in Europe on several occasions, he has a number of engagements in Australia, especially in Canberra and Melbourne. He lists the following as ‘upcoming in 2023’:
Performances of Deepspace and Hyperspace in Europe soon to be announced.
Performances of Shortcuts to Familiar Places in Ngunnawal Country/Canberra and Naarm/Melbourne.
Long-form workshop and creation for Canberra Dance Theatre.
New creation with students from the Victorian College of the Arts.
Residencies in Turin, Potsdam and Nîmes for research and development of collaboration Echo Field with Arad Inbar and Leeza Pritychenko.
New creation with Norrdans in Sweden.
Below is a brief trailer for Shortcuts to Familiar Places, a work in which Batchelor explores a movement lineage through his childhood dance teacher Ruth Osborne to the modern dance pioneer Gertrud Bodenwieser.
Talking to Shaun Parker
Just recently I had the pleasure of talking to Shaun Parker about his return season of KING to take place at the Seymour Centre from 24 February to 4 March as part of Sydney WorldPride. I am planning to include a longer website post ‘Talking to Shaun Parker’ in February.
20 January 2023. Carriageworks, Eveleigh. Sydney Festival
In 2012 I self-published a biography of Meryl Tankard, which for better or worse I entitled Meryl Tankard. An original voice. Well rarely has that ‘original voice’ been so noticeable as it was in Tankard’s latest work, Kairos. The word ‘kairos’ means (in Greek) ‘the right or opportune moment for doing, a moment that cannot be scheduled’ and media information tells us that Tankard’s Kairos was a response to the uncertain and challenging times in which we live, and especially the circumstances in which the work was made. ‘The right and opportune moment is now’, we were told.
The work was really a collection of solos for each of the six dancers Tankard worked with to create Kairos: Lillian Fearn, Cloé Fournier, Taiga Kita-Leong, Jasmin Luna, Julie Anne Minaai and Thuba Ndibali. A young girl, Izabelle Kharaman, joined the group on two brief occasions. As is her usual practice, Tankard acknowledged the dancers as collaborators, although it is hard to know just how much of each solo was from the dancers and how much from Tankard. Each dancer had a very distinctive way of moving so there was no strong choreographic through-line, although there were moments when Tankard-esque features surfaced. The frequent tossing of her long hair by Lillian Fearn, especially towards the end of the work, was one such feature. But only rarely did the dancers work as a group.
(l-r) Lillian Fearn, Cloé Fournier, Thuba Ndibali, Julie Ann Minaai in Kairos, 2023. Photo: Régis Lansac
I especially enjoyed Thuba Ndibali’s movement, especially the way he used his long, loose limbs, although not so entertaining was his duet (of sorts) with Taiga Kita-Leong when Ndibali treated Kita-Leong as a kind of dog (slave?). I also admired Fearn whose elegance and strength of presence was mesmerising. But each performer seemed involved in his or her own activities and thoughts so there seemed to be no narrative through-line. In the end I gave up trying to decide what each moment meant. They could have meant anything according to how one was feeling or thinking at the time.
One or two moments were annoying, to me anyway. But then perhaps that was part of the whole. Not everything makes us happy, not in troubling times, not ever really. I wondered why, for example, at one stage the dancers appeared with boxes over their heads with the boxes having pictures/photos(?) on the front of the box. They were meant to refer to a period in the life of Australian artist Sidney Nolan when he was creating portraits using a particular medium that Tankard and her creative team found unusually interesting. But for me the parading with the boxes was pretty much meaningless and perhaps even insensitive to Nolan’s practice.
Another moment that was frustrating was when Cloé Fournier stood on a stool and recited in French a poem by Arthur Rimbaud, Le dormeur du val (The Sleeper in the Valley). The French is not difficult to understand but I could not hear every word being spoken. There was a lot of ambient sound and Fournier’s projection was not always strong enough to overcome other noises. This was a shame because the poem is fascinating for the way it presents the image of a soldier apparently asleep but actually dead, having been shot. Here was one moment when at least one idea stood out—appearances can be deceptive—but we missed it by not hearing the full version of the poem.
Looking more positively, however, visually and musically Kairos was completely absorbing. Régis Lansac’s video design and photography were brilliant. I was especially taken with some early moments in the work when the backcloth of scrims had changing images of a bush landscape projected on it. Mysterious figures hovered in the background, and bird sounds and other bush noises filled the air. Such atmosphere! The lighting by Verity Hampson was also outstanding. The accompanying and inspiring score was by Elena Kats-Chernin, who performed live on a grand piano that was situated mostly in a downstage corner, but that was pushed by the performers into a centre stage position towards the end of the work.
Tankard’s original voice was certainly there on show in Kairos. It was especially obvious in her powerful aesthetic of collaboration, but not always in the positive manner that I remember from her works made in Canberra and Adelaide. There was much that was puzzling about Kairos, largely because of a lack of easily understood themes and from choreography that seemed messy in its diversity, even though it was mostly performed skilfully. As a result, I thought that for the audience a certain negativity permeated the work. Kairos reminded me of an article by Helen Shaw, which appeared recently in The New Yorker entitled New York’s Theatre Festivals Imagine a World After Mankind. In it Shaw examines ‘visions of the future’ and finds that in several shows she has seen recently she has been somewhat dismayed to notice in the performances a delight in, and savouring of the disappearance of the world as we have known it. Dance doesn’t have to be like that, although it seems more and more as if that is the way it is going.
Michelle Potter, 22 January 2023
Featured image: Lillian Fearn in Meryl Tankard’s Kairos. Photo: Régis Lansac
‘Once a dancer, always a dancer’ is a phrase that springs to mind when looking at how David McAllister is managing retirement after serving for two decades as artistic director of the Australian Ballet. Since leaving that directorship role at the end of 2020, McAllister has published Soar, his autobiography; created a new Swan Lake for the Finnish National Ballet; been honoured with various awards; and taught for many organisations and dance schools across Australia (amongst a variety of other activities).
But the most recent news is perhaps the most interesting of all his recent engagements. In a commission that he has described as ‘an exciting retirement opportunity’, he will act as interim artistic director for the Wellington-based Royal New Zealand Ballet until a replacement is chosen to take over from Patricia Barker, who has announced her retirement. McAllister will take up the role early in March. Barker will return to the United States following the regional tour, Tutus on Tour, which concludes on 12 March.
Barker’s retirement comes at a significant point in RNZB’s history. The year 2023 is the 70th anniversary of the company’s foundation in 1953 by Poul Gnatt. Over those 70 years, and looking at the book The Royal New Zealand Ballet at 60 (edited by Jennifer Shennan and Anne Rowse), it is clear that the company has appointed directors from around the world. But was the last New Zealander to hold the post really Bryan Ashbridge in 1971? One wonders if, in celebration of the company’s stellar history, it is an appropriate time to appoint once more a New Zealander as director? Time will tell and, in the meantime, I’m sure McAllister will do a terrific job and will be admired by all involved. Interesting times for dance in New Zealand.
At the end of December it is always interesting to look back on statistics for the year. During 2022, Jennifer Shennan and I have posted 58 items on the website (just over one per week) and we have received around 46,000 visits over that period. Melbourne tops the list of cities from which our readers have come, but the website attracts visitors from around the world, especially (apart from Australia and New Zealand) from the United States and the United Kingdom. May our statistics continue to improve over the year to come and I wish all our friends and colleagues a happy new year. May 2023 be filled with dance, in whatever form that may currently be for you.
In the meantime, below are some news items that emerged during December 2022.
Joseph Romancewicz
In a recent ‘Behind Ballet’ post, the Australian Ballet has explained why I have not seen Joseph Romancewicz onstage for some time. I have admired his dancing, and his strong stage presence, since 2018 when I thoroughly enjoyed his performance in a small role in a production of The Merry Widow, but had been a little disappointed that I hadn’t seen him recently. Well an injury in 2021 has kept him out of performances but it seems, with the help of the Australian Ballet’s health team and some surgery, he has recovered. He was an excellent Tybalt in the recent production of Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet and I look forward to seeing him again in 2023.
Melanie Lane, whose recent work in Canberra was Metal Park for QL2 Dance’s annual Quantum Leap show, has been named Choreographer in Residence 2023-2024 by Melbourne’s Chunky Move. The Choreographer in Residence initiative will invest $120,000 in Lane’s practice over the two years including a direct contribution of $50,000 in artist fees and $70,000 towards the commission of a major work in the second year of the tenure.
Lane has previously been commissioned by Sydney Dance Company, where she showed her unforgettable workWOOF, and by Australasian Dance Collective, Dance North, Chunky Move, Schauspiel Leipzig and West Australian Ballet. She was the recipient of the 2018 Keir choreographic award and the 2017 Leipziger Bewegungskunstpreis in Germany.
I interviewed Lane earlier this year while she was preparing Metal Park. See this link for what I wrote as a result of the interview. I am very much looking forward too to seeing what eventuates from Lane’s work with Chunky Move.
La Nijinska. A new book by Lynn Garafola
How little I knew about Bronislava Nijinska before reading Lynn Garafola’s latest, intensively researched book La Nijinska. It is a very dense book but, from the countless research elements, stories and anecdotes, one or two stand out for me, largely for personal reasons. I was interested to read about the genesis of Les Noces for example: it has a whole chapter to itself. It reminded me of a performance in Canberra way back in 1982 when Don Asker, then directing the city’s resident dance company, Human Veins Dance Theatre, choreographed a version of Les Noces for a Stravinsky Festival. Asker collaborated with the Canberra School of Music and, perhaps ‘for the first time ever’, so the media reported, had the music performed as Stravinsky envisaged it. The orchestra, including four grand pianos, soloists and chorus, shared the stage with the dancers. It was a monumental undertaking and one not to be forgotten.
Perhaps the most interesting snippet for me, however, was a brief discussion of Nijinska as a potential director of a second Ballets Russes company for Colonel de Basil, one that would eventually head to Australia. The story goes:
Now, in the summer of 1936, rumours circulated about the likelihood of de Basil forming a second company that would tour Australia, while the main company danced in Germany and the United States. Thomas Armour … wrote to a friend on April 22, “I have been told de Basil really plans this year to have two companies and that Nijinska will be in charge of the second.” (Lynn Garafola, La Nijinska. New York, Oxford University Press, 2022, p. 359).
Well it didn’t happen that Nijinska came to Australia in that role. It was Leon Woizikowsky who headed that 1936 visit to Australia. One must wonder however how different ballet in Australia might have been had it happened!
The Dying Swan
As we begin a new year, enjoy a beautiful performance of The Dying Swan danced by Nina Ananiashvili. It comes from the Jacob’s Pillow playlist, an amazing source of dance on film from works performed over the years at Jacob’s Pillow in Becket, Massachusetts. Watch Ananiashvili here.
In 2022 I managed to see more live performances than I did in 2021. I was even able to get to New Zealand to see Loughlan Prior’s Cinderella. There were still a number of online offerings to add to the year’s viewing of course, and online watching has become part of my life I think.
As I did in 2021, I have chosen just five performances as my highlights for 2022, and the pluses and minuses experienced in 2021 were pretty much the same in 2022: difficulties resulting from choosing such a small number, but the advantage of having to focus strongly on what defines for me an outstanding work.
Below are my ‘top five’ productions for 2022, arranged chronologically according to the date of performance. I have included a link to my review in each case and have simply included in this post the main reason why I chose each work. All posts refer to live performances.
LESS (Canberra. Australian Dance Party, March)
LESS was a brilliant collaborative endeavour, and an outstanding site-specific work, the ongoing focus of Australian Dance Party. Here is the link to the review.
(As a Canberra-based writer I also chose LESS as my highlight for 2022 for Dance Australia and my comments should appear in that magazine soon).
Kunstkamer (Sydney. The Australian Ballet, May)
Kunstkamer was an outstanding work that showed the Australian Ballet and its dancers in a totally new light. Here is the link to the review.
Li’s Choice (Brisbane. Queensland Ballet, June)
Li’s choice showed the exceptional diversity of Queensland Ballet’s dancers and the equally exceptional directorship of Li Cunxin and his support staff. Here is the link to the review.
Galileo (Parramatta. Sydney Choreographic Ensemble, June)
Francesco Ventriglia skilfully demonstrated how choreography can convey a huge range of ideas and while doing so make a totally absorbing and focused work. Here is the link to the review.
Cinderella (Auckland. Royal New Zealand Ballet, August)
Loughlan Prior gave his Cinderella a setting and storyline that was a courageous and totally unexpected look at a well-worn story, Here is the link to the review, and another link to an interview with Loughlan Prior in which he talks about Cinderella.
Digital screening, December 2022 (filmed during a September season from the Heath Ledger Theatre, Perth)
I first saw Douglas Wright’s Gloria in 1993 in Sydney when it was performed by Sydney Dance Company. Then it was a relatively new piece from Wright with its world premiere having taken place in Auckland in 1990. In 1993 I was the Sydney reviewer for Dance Australia so I am in the fortunate position of being able to look back at my reactions to that early production. In fact, a copy of that review appears on this website at this link.
The features of Gloria that thrilled me in 1993 are also powerful features of the Co3 production —its life affirming message, the witty choreography, the unusual and challenging connection (or not) between music and dance, and in general the vigour and vitality of the work. But on this occasion I saw it as a streamed event and, generously from Co3, the Perth-based contemporary company led by Raewyn Hill, I was able to watch it over a 48 hour period. This meant that I had time to go back and look more closely at certain sections. While every section had its highlights, two sections and one particular moment stood out for me.
The one particular moment came at the end of the first movement of Vivaldi’s Gloria, to which the work is danced. The dancers began with quite slow, unison movement that turned into energetic leaps, turns and fast running down the diagonal. As the dancers left the stage, and as the first movement was coming to an end, a single male dancer, Sean MacDonald whose connections with Gloria go back to a 1997 production, was left alone on the stage. His final jump ended with him lying on his back, legs and arms moving slowly as if he was running in that prone position. He rolled over, slowly stood up, and lifted his arms to the front, palms facing upwards. The lights faded but the music continued and the power of MacDonald’s final, simple movement was breathtaking.
Another section that moved me immensely was performed to the ‘Domine Deus’ section, sung (according to the credits that ended the stream) by soprano Sabra Poole Johnson from St George’s Cathedral Consort, the group that provided the vocals for the Vivaldi score. This section began with a group of five dancers moving slowly in a sculptural formation but eventually separating with four sliding off leaving one dancer (Francesca Fenton I believe) alone. She began her solo on the floor but slowly assumed a standing position and, in so doing, seemed to be exploring her physical existence before she broke into a waltz-like dance full of grace and fluidity. Like MacDonald before her, as her dance came to and end she lifted her arms, stretching them forward with palms facing upwards as if to announce she had discovered her identity, her existence, herself.
I also enjoyed the section danced to the movement ‘Et in terra pax’. It featured Claudia Alessi who had danced in Gloria in 1991 when it was staged for the Perth Festival by Chrissie Parrott. What made this section so appealing to me was the sculptural qualities of the choreography, which in fact were noticeable throughout the work, although perhaps not to the same extent as in ‘Et in terra pax’.
There were of course many other moments that continue to resonate: the joyous quality of the dance to ‘Laudamus Te’ and the duet between two male dancers (Sean MacDonald and Scott Galbraith I think) in which we witnessed the changing nature of human relationships. Also great to watch were those moments when a dancer was held and swung back and forth by two other dancers as others ran underneath and around the activity. But I guess I go back to my original review for Dance Australia and confirm more than anything that Wright’s Gloria is life-affirming whatever one might think of specific sections. Wright uses dance to convey a message about humanity. Simple but astounding.
I was lucky to be able to keep going back to watch sections of Gloria but I am sure I missed a lot by not seeing it live, especially as the music was played live by a chamber group from the West Australian Symphony Orchestra and sung live by the St George’s Cathedral Consort, with the whole conducted by Dr Joseph Nolan. Nevertheless, the sound quality of the streamed version was just beautiful and I absolutely loved being immersed in this production from Co3 of Douglas Wright’s spectacular Gloria.
At the time of writing, the streamed Gloria is still available to watch for the small price of AUD 19. The offer is available until mid-January. See ‘Watch at home’ at this link.
To all those who have logged on to this website throughout 2022, thank you for your interest. I wish you the very best for the holiday season. To me the holiday season means Christmas, and the photographs below are some of my favourite Christmas-related images from years past (with one from this year).
Carols by Candlelight, Canberra’s Woden Valley Youth Choir, 2022
Christmas bells, Bali 2018
The church at Chimayo, New Mexico, 2007
Family photos from 2009 (left), 2017 (centre) and 2018 (right)
Have a safe and happy holiday season, whichever holiday you may be celebrating.
Michelle Potter, 24 December 2022
Featured image: The Santa Claus on the right was a Christmas present from a little boy in one of my ballet classes way back in the 1980s. On a trip to Scandinavia in around 2006 (perhaps a little earlier?), I bought the other two. The little wood cutter in the centre always sits on top of the quintessentially French bûche de Noël (Christmas log), a dessert I often make at Christmas time.
10 December 2022 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
Choreography: John Cranko Design: Jürgen Rose Lighting: Jon Buswell Composer: Sergei Prokofiev
It is hard to believe that it is around 20 years since John Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet was last performed by the Australian Ballet. Since then the production of Romeo and Juliet that the Australian Ballet has shown on numerous occasions has been by Graeme Murphy. Apart from the Murphy production, in the 20 years prior to the current production of Cranko’s work, I have seen Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet, danced by the Royal Ballet and by Queensland Ballet, as well as productions by Stanton Welch for Houston Ballet, Sasha Waltz for the Paris Opera Ballet, John Neumeier’s production danced by the Royal Danish Ballet, a condensed version with the title R & J by Natalie Weir for Expressions Dance Company, and a reimagined production of the story, called Unravel, by a Canberra-based pre-professional company. So, rather than do a regular review I am simply noting some high points from the performance I saw just recently from the Australian Ballet.
Tybalt I had the good fortune to see Joseph Romancewicz in the role of Tybalt, kinsman of the Capulet family. I have enjoyed watching Romancewicz for some time now and I thought his performance as Tybalt demonstrated a well thought through characterisation. He was cold and unrelenting in his dislike for the Montagues. He never fell out of character and his sword fight with Mercutio and then his death at the hands of Romeo were dramatic and powerful.
The ball scene (Act I, scene 4) The largely-black costumes by Jürgen Rose for the guests at the Capulet ball were spectacular, as was the choreography and the dancing of it. I especially loved the moments when the men fell to their knees, on cushions they had dropped to the floor, and made a kind of reverence to their lady partners.
The music The well-known music by Sergei Prokofiev, with the orchestra under the baton of the new Australian Ballet conductor Jonathan Lo, sounded just brilliant. Filled with such a diversity of thematic material and so much emotion, it was used to great effect by Cranko.
The carnival scene in the marketplace of Verona (Act II, scene 1) Although I found the costuming for this scene a little overly decorative, the dancing was exciting to watch: I especially enjoyed the acrobatic moments by a quartet of very flexible performers. But all the dancers were full of the excitement of the moment, until the joy was interrupted by the demands of Tybalt.
The progression of the storyline The storyline moved along quickly and without a hitch. Every scene made its point clearly, never lingering over non-essential matters. The one exception, perhaps, was the dance of the bridesmaids (Act III, scene 3) which choreographically seemed to be a little uninspiring to me and continued for too long.
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Apart from the dance for the bridesmaids, there were other aspects of the work that didn’t appeal, which I think related more to the dancers I saw than to the work itself. Apart from Romancewicz, the only other dancer who made my eyes light up was Lucien Xu as Benvolio, who often is an easy-to-ignore character. But not this time.
As a final comment, I have to say that Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet, which concludes the Australian Ballet’s 2022 season, is a master work really. It had, thankfully, so much more to offer than the previous program, Instruments of Dance.
Michelle Potter 12 December 2022
For reviews of other productions of Romeo and Juliet, and some stories relating to the work, see this link.
