Silence & Rapture. Australian Chamber Orchestra and Sydney Dance Company

17 August 2024. Llewellyn Hall, Canberra

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Silence & Rapture published online by Canberra’s CityNews on 18 August 2024. The CityNews review is at this link.

The Australian Chamber Orchestra (ACO) has an admirable history of staging productions with dance companies in which both musicians and dancers perform onstage, with artists of each genre reflecting the work of the other in some way. My first recollection of this kind of collaborative endeavour goes back to 1998 when the ACO joined with a small contingent of dancers from the Australian Ballet, then under the direction of Ross Stretton, to present the Stravinsky/Balanchine ballet, Apollo. Since then there have been several collaborations between the ACO and Sydney Dance Company. Silence & Rapture is their most recent joint initiative.*

Directed by Richard Tognetti, Silence & Rapture presented a series of compositions by two composers—J. S. Bach and Arvo Pärt—whose works are years apart but were so expertly curated on the program that they fell together seamlessly. Program notes explained the narrative that was behind the selection. It followed ‘the path of a Lutheran metaphor … the world as a pendulum swinging downward, from the natural world of Hope and Temptation (Garden of Eden), down to Tragedy and Passion (Garden of Gethsemane), then upward again to Resurrection and Redemption (Garden of Heaven).’ The ACO musicians were joined by countertenor Iestyn Davies and two Sydney Dance Company artists, Emily Seymour and Liam Green, who performed the choreography of Rafael Bonachela.

Every aspect of the show was superbly executed by every single artist, with a standout performance of the Prelude from Bach’s Suite for Solo Cello in C Major from ACO’s principal cellist Timo-Veikko Valve. Apart from an impeccable transmission of the sound of the music, Valve the man could scarcely be separated from his instrument so involved was he, in a bodily sense, in transmitting the notes across the stage space and into the auditorium. While Valve’s involvement in this way was unforgettable, most of the ACO musicians also showed their intense commitment with a similar physical connection with their instrument during performance.

The dancers also stood out for their performance of Bonachela’s highly complex movement. Bonachela needed to restrain his choreography to an extent, given the small space in which the dancers could perform. But he showed his skill and, in addition to a focus on complexity, which often reflected the complexity of the music, he had the dancers at times performing solos on two small tables on the edges of the stage space. There were brief moments too of unison dancing involving Seymour and Green and I am always impressed by the way Bonachela turns to unison work, and how his dancers respond so beautifully.

Emily Seymour and Richard Tognetti in a moment from *Silence & Rapture*. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But the truly outstanding feature of Silence & Rapture was the theatricality that permeated the evening, especially in the use of the stage space. Apart from the two cellists and Chad Kelly, who played organ and harpsichord, all the musicians stood for the entire performance (how did they do it?) and formed a semi-circle onstage. They provided a focused performing area for the dancers and countertenor, who constantly interacted with each other, with the countertenor occasionally joining the dancers in performing Bonachela’s choreography.

Then there was the input from well-known lighting designer Damien Cooper. His design added colour to the production, and darkness sometimes when the musicians were practically hidden but still playing. His design also highlighted certain moments, including the cello solo by Valve, and a moment towards the end when the two dancers mounted a rise at the centre back of the stage to present the ‘upward swing’ to ‘Resurrection and Redemption’.

When I look back at the Apollo collaborative event of 1998 (and re-read my less than positive review of that performance) I wonder whether the success of Silence & Rapture reflects the fact that in this case the dance was made for the music, which had been specifically selected and put together. The show thus had an originality, a presentation that had not existed previously, an originality that was not present in what was put together in 1998? Whatever the reason, in its one-night-only performance in Canberra, Silence & Rapture was a five-star show.

Michelle Potter, 18 August 2024

* It is of course not uncommon for dance companies and composers to work together—even working onstage together is relatively common. This review simply concerns the collaborative efforts of the ACO, while not dismissing other such efforts.

Featured image: Sydney Dance Company’s Emily Seymour and Liam Green (centre) with musicians of the Australian Chamber Orchestra in Silence & Rapture. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Solace. Royal New Zealand Ballet

1 August 2024. St James Theatre, Wellington

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Solace published online by Dance Australia on 5 August 2024. The Dance Australia review is at this link.

Solace, the recent triple bill from Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB), offered audiences a thought-provoking look at the approach of contemporary choreographers who work with ballet companies. They are often inspired by abstract ideas rather than by a narrative line. Such was the case with the three works that made up Solace: Wayne McGregor’s Infra, To Hold by Sarah Foster-Sproull, and Alice Topp’s High Tide.

First up was Infra, danced to a score by Max Richter. I first saw Infra in an Australian Ballet season back in 2014 and I was not really thrilled with what I saw then. But I felt quite differently watching the RNZB production. In his RNZB program notes McGregor remarked that ‘Infra has become simply about people’. Two people stood out in the cast I saw—Branden Reiners and Kate Kadow. Their duet, one of several in Infra, was filled with emotion as a result of the magnificent contact they made with each other. The connection they created was not simply a result of the physicality they developed through McGregor’s choreography but in other ways as well, including through their constant and engaging eye contact. But eventually Reiners left the stage, walking off without acknowledging Kadow. Her reaction continued the momentum that the duet had generated. Kadow seemed stricken by anxiety and pain as she reacted to Reiners’ departure. It was heart-stopping. Despite exceptional dancing by the entire cast, nothing could match the performance of Reiners and Kadow.

Branden Reiners and Kate Kadow in *Infra*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Apart from being moved by the Reiners/Kadow connection, it was interesting to watch the unfolding of McGregor’s choreography. With Infra he worked within the classical medium but pushed that medium to exceptional lengths. In particular, his choreography moved away from the classical notion that the body is centred on an erect spine. In Infra it was quite noticeable that the spine was often curved with the dancers pushing the pelvis backwards and forwards to remove and then reinstate the straight line of the spine. Great work from RNZB.

Next was Sarah Foster-Sproull’s newly-commissioned work, To Hold, again dealing with an abstract idea, ‘ways of holding and being held’. This idea was constantly made clear by the groupings Foster-Sproull created throughout the piece. Often the dancers gathered together in large, tightly-held arrangements. Often too they joined arms to create various groupings. Frequently the hands, often with fingers spread wide apart, were very prominent. To my mind this focus on joining hands in various ways meant that other choreographic moves seemed of secondary importance. I would have loved to have seen more variation rather than the work being overburdened by ‘togetherness’.

A moment from Sarah Foster-Sproull’s *To Hold*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

The bright blue costumes by Donna Jefferis moved beautifully as the choreography, and the score by Eden Mulholland, unfolded. The costumes added a visually impressive element to the work.

Ana Gallardo Lobaina (left) and Joshua Guillemot-Rodgerson (right) in Sarah Foster-Sproull’s *To Hold*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

The evening ended with another new work, High Tide, created by Australia’s Alice Topp to music by Icelandic composer Ölafur Arnalds. Topp writes that the work is ‘a tender look at the isolating experiences of fear and our ever-changing shadows’. High Tide consisted largely of duets, a dance format that is a specialty of Topp’s choreographic approach. Topp showed off her skill at developing lifts and partnership moves that were often quite spectacular in the way bodies linked up. Dancers were, for example, often held upside down or in twisted positions, and they frequently pulled away from each other while still maintaining a physical connection. Topp’s choreography is firmly classically based but is demanding in its complexity and there were moments when I felt a little anxious about some of the performers. High Tide probably needs more time for the dancers to develop greater confidence and fluidity with Topp’s choreography.

Ana Gallardo Lobaina and Branden Reiners in Alice Topp’s *High Tide*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

While visually all three works had an impact, the most outstanding collaborative contribution was designer Jon Buswell’s huge and domineering orb that accompanied High Tide. It reflected, on its changing surface and with its movement within the performing space, much of what Topp hoped to express about human experiences.

Solace was a demanding triple bill and RNZB rose skillfully to the occasion. It was an evening to be savoured and enjoyed for what it demonstrated about ballet today.

Update on request. An oral history interview with Alice Topp, recorded for the National Library of Australia, is available at this link. (MP 7/8/24)

Michelle Potter 5 August 2024

Featured image: A scene from Alice Topp’s High Tide showing Jon Buswell’s orb at the back. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Dance diary. July 2024

Looking ahead …

As August approaches I am looking forward to a number of dance performances beginning in Wellington with Royal New Zealand Ballet’s triple bill program Solace. Solace opens on 1 August and consists of Wayne McGregor’s Infra and two new works, To Hold by Sarah Foster-Sproull and High Tide by Alice Topp. Infra was seen in Australia in 2017 when it was performed by the Australian Ballet in a season called Faster. It is not my favourite McGregor work and it suffered somewhat in 2017 by being programmed alongside an absolutely brilliant work, Squander and Glory, by Tim Harbour. But I am very much looking forward to seeing the new works by Foster-Sproull and Topp.

I interviewed Topp in November for the National Library of Australia’s oral history program. It is available to listen to online at this link.

Then, in mid-August, the fifth Ballet International Gala begins a series of one night stands in Perth, Brisbane, Melbourne and Canberra. Annoyingly it is not clear which works will be presented in Australia. Nor is it clear which dancers will be performing. I guess we just have to wait and see! Here is the website, which may eventually include some specific information.

Iana Salenko and her husband and dance partner Marian Walter in a moment from *Swan Lake*. Photo: © Carola Hoelting

News from James Batchelor

James Batchelor was recently funded by artsACT to develop a new work ‘inspired by the late choreographer, Tanja Liedtke.’ This follows on from his Shortcuts to familiar places, which examined the influence of Gertrud Bodenwieser on those who were close to her and those who followed her methods of dancing and teaching.

Liedtke’s career was relatively short. She tragically died when quite young (she was just 29) and, while she was definitely an influential choreographer, she was, as a result of her early death, without the extended connections Bodenwieser had developed over many decades. So, it will be interesting to see how Batchelor develops this new work.

News from QL2 Dance

Late in July, at the invitation of the Australian Embassy in Thailand, some dancers from Canberra’s youth group QL2 Dance performed in Bangkok as part of a large-scale event to celebrate the birthday of His Majesty King Maha Vajiralongkorn Phra Vajiraklaochaoyuhua. Two First Nations’ dance artists, Julia Villaflor (Wagiman) and Jahna Lugnan (Bundjalung, Gumbaynggirr) were part of the celebration and performed Connected, a duet they had created that acknowledges and explores their connection to the land and each other. Villaflor and Lugnan were accompanied on their journey to Bangkok by Alice Lee Holland, incoming director of QL2 Dance.

Jahna Lugnan and Julia Villaflor working in the QL2 Dance studio, Canberra. Photo: © O&J Wikner Photography

Last minute July news.

Leanne Benjamin is to leave her role as artistic director of Queensland Ballet. Read the media release at this link.

Press for July 2024

‘Bangarra shares the dance stage to great effect.’ City News (Canberra). Online at this link.

MIchelle Potter, 31 July 2024

Featured image: Ana Gallardo Lobaina and Branden Reiners in Alice Topp’s High Tide. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Ross Brown

Reviewing dance

I am in the fortunate position of regularly receiving invitations, with complimentary tickets included, to various dance performances. But recently some of those invitations have included words noting that I am welcome to come and ‘enjoy’ the show but that reviews are not desired. No one has actually said reviews are not to be written, are forbidden, or some such remark, but what is inferred is perfectly obvious. Why are reviews being dismissed? Don’t reviews have a place in the development of dance and dancers (even young ones?). Is this some kind of media manipulation? I struggle to understand the situation and, to put it mildly, I find it frustrating to be told what I can, or can’t write about.

Good criticism has to be honest and there will always be cases where a reviewer will feel the need to suggest there are issues that cause a work to fall short. But that’s what happens when a work is presented in a public arena, whether it is dance or something else in the world of the performing arts. One young dancer said to me not so long ago that he doesn’t get enough feedback and that reviews give him that feedback. Another gentleman from the administrative area of a dance organisation told me that my reviews, despite the occasional somewhat negative remark, helped the company improve! Reviews matter. They stand strong against flowery media releases.

In a book called Mirrors and Scrims, American dance writer and critic Marcia Siegel writes, ‘I see myself as both a demystifyer and a validator, sometimes an interpreter, but not a judge.’ Mirrors and Scrims is one of the best collections of dance criticism I have read. I stand with Siegel’s concept of a critic being a ‘demystifier’, ‘validator’ and ‘interpreter’ and I make an effort to avoid being judgmental. I hope that this move to invite reviewers to come and ‘enjoy’ a show without writing it up somewhere will sink into oblivion. Dance reviews have a place and, in addition to what I have written above, that includes creating the history of an art form.

Read my review of Mirrors and Scrims at this link.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2024

The image included on the poster image at the top of this post is a scene from Coloration in Hot to Trot. QL2 Dance, 2023. Photo: © O&J Wikner Photography

Horizon. Bangarra Dance Theatre. A second look

18 July 2024. Bangarra Dance Theatre, Canberra Theatre.

In Canberra I had a rather different view of the production of Bangarra’s Horizon from the one I had in Sydney back in June. When I arrived at the Canberra Theatre to collect my tickets there was only one ticket in the envelope , despite the fact that I had officially been allocated two and did in fact have a guest with me. I was reallocated seats and ended up in row W very much on the side—not a position where critics usually sit! But in fact it gave me an interesting view of some aspects of the show, in particular a good view of the overall picture that was being presented, which gave added strength to some of the visual elements. While I much prefer to be a little closer, and hope the Canberra Theatre Centre can manage to get things right next time, all was not lost.

My review of the Canberra opening of Horizon was published online by Canberra’s City News and can be accessed at this link. Below is a slight enlarged version of that text.

Horizon is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first mainstage, international collaborative initiative. It centres on aspects of Australian and Aotearoa New Zealand dance practice as those aspects reflect traditional society and culture.

The major part of the show is The Light Inside, a work in two sections. The first, ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’, is choreographed by former Bangarra dancer, Deborah Brown, whose family connections are in the Torres Strait Islands. The second is ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, created by choreographer and director of Auckland’s New Zealand Dance Company, Moss Patterson, who grew up in the area around Lake Taupo on the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. The Light Inside is preceded by Kulka, a short work by Sani Townson, former Bangarra dancer and now Youth Programs Coordinator with the company.

The focus of Kulka is nighttime with emphasis on the fact that much of Torres Strait Islander society abounds in traditional songs and dances about constellations that guide the totems and clans in the society. A leading role was taken by Kassidy Waters while a highlight was a trio danced by Lucy May, Bradley Smith and Kallum Goolagong, which centred on the role of the Crocodile God in Townson’s clan. A feature of Horizon was a projection that acted as a kind of backcloth and mirrored the performers as they danced. Kulka introduced us to this mirror-like effect, which was continued, although slightly differently, during The Light Inside.

(left) scene from *Kulka* showing the mirroring technique above the dancers; (right) scene from *The Light Inside* showing the mirroring technique below the dancers as if they are dancing in water. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Deborah Brown’s ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’ focuses on the relationship between Torres Strait Islander communities and the sea. An exceptional introduction to the work came from Daniel Mateo. It looked back to the work of a 19th century anthropologist as he recorded aspects of Torres Strait Islander culture on wax cylinders. Another highlight was ‘Blue Star’, an exceptionally performed solo by Lillian Banks telling of a seasonal change when moisture in the air makes the stars turn blue and twinkle, which becomes a guide for the seafaring peoples of the region.

The standout work on the program, however, was ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, Moss Patterson’s section of The Light Inside. I first saw this work in Sydney at its world premiere in June. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about the relationship this new work had with the Māori haka. I was repeatedly reminded of football matches between Australia and New Zealand that are inevitably preceded by a haka. But the Canberra show seemed very different. After a month of performances in Sydney, the dancers had clearly absorbed the powerful and individualistic nature of Patterson’s choreography. The work was intensely moving and dramatic. Those qualities were clearly transmitted through the bodies of the dancers. They were proud. They were aggressive. They were strong and determined as they took their place in the world. Football memories were gone.

The work ended in a quieter fashion with the ensemble dancing to suggest peace and communication. But the strength and power of Patterson’s ‘Fresh Water’ remained and had clearly inspired the audience. Cheers rang out as the evening came to a close.

Horizon is an admirable undertaking and, as is usual with Bangarra productions, the collaborative elements were exceptional. Original scores were created by Steve Francis, Brendon Boney and Amy Flannery. Costume designs came from Jennifer Irwin and Clair Parker, set design from Elizabeth Gadsby, and lighting from Karen Norris.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2024

Featured image: Kassidy Waters and dancers of Bangarra Dance Theatre in a moment from The Light Inside. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Dance diary. June 2024

Remi Wörtmeyer

Former Australian Ballet dancer (and a graduate of the Australian Ballet School), Remi Wörtmeyer, has been appointed artistic director of BalletMet in Columbus, Ohio. The press from BalletMet has further information and some online examples of his dancing and choreography. Follow this link.

Wörtmeyer’s career has been diverse to say the least. In addition to his dance-related activities, which include the creation of some 30 ballets for companies around the world, he established Maison Remi, an organisation that produces some incredible fashion accessories, including handbags, rings and more.

For mentions of Wörtmeyer on this website see this tag.

News from Queensland Ballet

Queensland Ballet goes from strength to strength as an organisation. The company recently announced it had taken another step towards its ‘Three Sites: One Vision’ concept by purchasing land in Brisbane on Montague Road close to the Thomas Dixon Centre. The new site will eventually house the company’s sets and costumes. ‘Three Sites’ includes the Thomas Dixon Centre with its exceptional small theatre and administration and classroom areas. The second site is the housing of the Queensland Ballet Academy at the Kelvin Grove State College Campus. The new site to house costumes and sets will be the third.

In another recent announcement, the company advised that it had become the first performing arts company in the world to become WELL Certified^TM at the Platinum level. This recognition came as a result of the restoration of Queensland Ballet’s home, the Thomas Dixon Cente. The media release reads, in part:

The WELL Building Standard is an evidence-based performance certification system hat marries best practices in design and construction with policy and operational strategies. The Thomas Dixon Centre earned the distinction based on ten concepts—Air, Water, Light, Nourishment, Movement, Thermal Performance, Sound, Materials, Mind and Community.

Isadora Duncan

In last month’s dance diary I mentioned a 2001 publication, Isadora. A sensational life, by Peter Kurth, which I had just read. The book encouraged me to read some more of the books about Isadora, which have been languishing on my bookshelves—it has been years since I looked at them. Isadora’s autobiography, Isadora: My life originally published in 1928, was hugely personal (as I guess is typical of any autobiography). But it gave a clear picture of her approach to dance, and of her distaste for ballet as a style, although there were times when it seemed she was simply making sweeping generalisations. But it looked at events in her life from a different perspective from the way Kurtz described those occasions. The book I enjoyed most was The search for Isadora. The Legend and Legacy of Isadora Duncan by Lillian Loewenthal, published in 1993. It was the most analytical and perhaps divorced from hysteria of one kind or another.

Three very different approaches! It made very clear how much of a person and his/her/their background is revealed in a publication. Now I have Isadora Duncan. Une Sculpture Vivante, to examine. Published in 2009, it an exhibition catalogue, with some essays, from the Musée Bourdelle in Paris.

My comments on Kurth’s book are in the dance diary for May at this link.

Press for June 2024

Bangarra’s ‘Horizon’. Dance Australia, 17 June 2024. Online at this link.
SDC ‘Momenta’. Dance Australia. 24 June 2024. Online at this link.

Michelle Potter, 30 June 2024

Featured image: Remi Wörtmeyer, 2024. Photo: © Jennifer Zmuda/BalletMet

The Dataset. Australian Dance Party

27 June 2024. The Vault, Dairy Road Precinct, Canberra

The Dataset took place in the Vault, an expansive, untheatrical space in the Dairy Road Precinct in Fyshwick, a largely industrial area in Canberra. The Vault has been used effectively before by Alison Plevey’s Australian Dance Party, in particular with From the Vault in 2019. But it needs an exceptional production to ensure that the characteristics of the space, especially its dark and unwelcoming environment, are used to advantage. The Dataset was unappealingly dark at the beginning, although it brightened up somewhat, at least in terms of lighting, as the work progressed.

Sara Black and Alison Plevey in an early moment from *The Dataset.* Australian Dance Party, 2024. Photo: © Lorna Sim

Indeed as the work progressed, the two dancers who formed the cast, Alison Plevey and Sara Black, who were wearing identical white outfits, were subjected to examination by a program in which every conceivable aspect of the dancers’ bodily and emotional characteristics were measured by what appeared to be an artificial intelligence program. We could see the program unfolding in words on the large back-screen in the performing space. Those words were also spoken aloud by an American voice. We watched as the dancers attempted to address the suggestions the AI program offered them.

Eventually, presumably because the AI program suggested that friendship was the next step, the dancers removed their short white jackets, under which they were wearing an individually distinct, decorative black and white top. They danced together with choreography that (perhaps unsurprisingly) was very much in the style we have come to expect from Australian Dance Party—lots of floor work, lifts with stretched limbs emerging out of the shapes formed, along with a variety of twisted poses.

Sara Black (at the back) and Alison Plevey (on the floor) in *The Dataset*. Australian Dance Party, 2024. Photo: © Lorna Sim

Slowly, however, the data on the screen began to fall apart, with words breaking up and lurching around. AI was no longer working well. In the end, darkness descended and the dancers made their way around the space using torches as they set up a kind of camp site to which they invited several audience members to join them. The work came to the end in this calm and very different environment.

Final moments in *The Dataset*. Australian Dance Party, 2024. Photo: © Lorna Sim

The Dataset falls within the Australian Dance Party’s focus on social and environmental aspects of the world in which we currently exist. Media material from the company explains that the work ‘imagines a world where we physicalise the data that forms us and interrogate its purpose and power. What happens when the system rules us? What happens when the system is broken? The Dataset highlights our adaptability as humans in the face of adversity.’ It is certainly an interesting concept to address and the collaborative elements were at times engrossing and entertaining, especially the ever-changing images that flashed across the back-screen as the dancers were developing their friendship.

But from the beginning of The Dataset my mind kept recalling Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (published 1932) and George Orwell’’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (published 1949). Both were dystopian novels that examined potential changes in society, and their effects on humanity, by developments in fields such as science, economics and the like. The Dataset had a similar narrative, although I wondered constantly whether dance could address such issues as effectively as the written word. In the case of The Dataset I think the answer is no. In this case the choreography, which is the heart of dance, seemed unnecessary as the work unfolded.

Michelle Potter, 29 June 2024

Featured image: Opening scene from The Dataset. Australian Dance Party, 2024. Photo: © Lorna Sim

Coppélia. Queensland Ballet

22 June 2024 (matinee). The Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane

I didn’t see Greg Horsman’s version of Coppélia, a joint production between Queensland Ballet and West Australian Ballet, when it was first performed back in 2014. But, having admired his reimagining of La Bayadère (despite efforts by some to remove it, and other productions of Bayadère, from the world-wide repertoire), I was looking forward to Queensland Ballet’s presentation of Horsman’s Coppélia. I was not disappointed.

Horsman has kept enough of the original storyline of Coppélia so that the work is recognisable to those of us who have been brought up on the traditional version. Dr Coppélius is bent on bringing a doll to life while the people of the town try to discover what is happening inside his house. And there is the usual love interest wending its way through the story. But Horsman has set this Coppélia in South Australia, in the small town of Hahndorf, which was the home in the early 1800s of German settlers.

But before Act I begins, with its presentation of the activities of the Hahndorf townsfolk, we are given some background in an outstanding prelude. It introduces us to Dr Coppélius and his daughter Coppélia as they prepare to set out on a journey to settle in Australia. The prelude contains a brief moment on stage and then some film (stills and footage) as the boat traverses the oceans. As the voyage continues we see Coppélia’s death and her burial at sea.

The scene then moves to Hahndorf and follows the story largely as we know it, with some exceptions and additions. A notable addition is a brief, moving moment when we see Dr Coppélius (D’Arcy Brazier) making the decision to try to return Coppélia to life. Then there are changes to how the music is used choreographically. The Mazurka from Act I becomes a celebration of a recent win by Hahndorf’s football team. Later, parts of the music for the Czardas in Act I become an accompaniment to a German-style dance with lots of slapping of the knees.

Artists of Queensland Ballet in Act I of *Coppélia*. Queensland Ballet, 2024. Photo: © David Kelly .

Act II keeps closely to the traditional production as Swanilda (Laura Tosar) and her friends discover the studio of Dr Coppélius, and Franz (Edison Manuel) climbs through a window in Dr Coppélius’ house to make his own discoveries. Act II ends as we might expect with Swanilda and Franz escaping while Dr Coppélius is left holding the doll he was hoping would be his daughter brought to life.

Artists of Queensland Ballet in Act III of *Coppélia*. Queensland Ballet, 2024. Photo: © David Kelly .

Act III adds some developments to the original story, including the appearance of an angry Dr Coppélius, who usually does not appear in this last Act, carrying his lifeless doll. But after a scuffle or two peace is reached between him and the townsfolk. Swanilda and Franz make plans for the future and the work ends happily.

I was at the second last performance of this Coppélia and, as often happens in such situations. it is not always principal artists who take on leading roles. In particular, I enjoyed immensely seeing company artist Edison Manuel dance Franz. He was engaging in his characterisation and displayed a nicely placed and developed technique. He is someone to watch over the coming years.

There was so much to like in Horsman’s Coppélia. It was appealing in design with lighting by Jon Buswell, set design by Hugh Colman, and costumes by Noelene Hill. But what I especially loved was the way Dr Coppélius had been transformed. Gone was the bumbling, eccentric pantomime-style character that we so often see in traditional productions. Horsman’s Dr Coppélius was a man whose life had been rocked by the death of his daughter and we could see in his every move that he was not the eccentric person of the traditional ballet but someone whose emotions are like our own.

Some of the best choreographers in Australia and overseas have reimagined old stories and made them more relevant in some way. Greg Horsman has joined them and created a thoroughly enjoyable ballet with a coherent, Australianised storyline.

Michelle Potter, 26 June 2024

Momenta. Sydney Dance Company

21 June 2024. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of momenta, originally published online by Dance Australia on 24 June 2024. A link to the Dance Australia version is at this link.

The word momenta is the plural form of momentum, a word that means ‘the product of the mass and velocity of an object’. Momenta is also the title of the latest work from Rafael Bonachela, current artistic director of Sydney Dance Company, and there have been several explanations of why Bonachela titled the work as he did. Some are quite complex and don’t help much with understanding what Bonachela was considering as he created the work. But no matter how we might discuss the word, Bonachela’s work momenta was certainly filled with mass and velocity with the ‘objects’ being the extraordinary dancers who make up the current composition of Sydney Dance Company.

The work began with some remarkable unison dancing and this is an aspect of Bonachela’s choreography that I have admired over several decades. He has a gift for grouping dancers in constantly changing arrangements, and for giving those dancers such a varied selection of movement, poses and uses of space within a unison component. The opening section of momenta often had the dancers working on the floor and using their lifted legs as a focus, which initially seemed somewhat unusual as a component of Bonachela’s approach to unison work. But no matter how or where the dancers were positioned, they responded with an input that took the breath away.

Those opening moments set the scene for what followed and as momenta progressed the large groupings broke down into solos, duets, trios and other arrangements of performers until we reached the end sections when the unison work began again. Momenta was very much an abstract work for me, but it was compositionally varied within that overall abstraction and as such the choreography never lost its engrossing quality.

An absolute highlight was a duet between Naiara de Matos and Piran Scott, while the work of Emily Seymour also stood out. But it is quite astonishing to watch the flexibility, the fluidity, the energy and the absolute attention to the tiniest choreographic detail from every single dancer in the current company, many of whom are relatively new performers of Bonachela’s work.

Naiara de Matos and Piran Scott in a duet from *momenta*. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

In terms of collaborative input, the highlight was the lighting from Damien Cooper. It was mostly relatively dark, although the colour of that darkness was not always the black we might have expected. As the work progressed, there were hints of dark green, sudden flashes of red, a burst of white cloud, at times a sudden brightness, and at others a mysterious hazy quality (especially, although not exclusively, when that white cloud began to dissipate). The lighting design was enhanced by the constant presence of a circular rig of 19 spotlights that moved up, down and around in the performing space and limited, at times, where the dancers could gather. The movement of the rig was beautifully controlled so that it appeared to be an essential part of the choreography.

The soundscape came from Nick Wales whose original, commissioned composition incorporated Distant Light by Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks. Costumes and set were by Elizabeth Gadsby with assistance from Emma White. The costumes were varied (a little) in style and colour but there was a minimalist quality to them in keeping with the overall abstract quality of the work. Their simplicity gave the dancers every opportunity to show that the focus of momenta was the body in motion.

The cast of *momenta*. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

The work closed with showers of small pieces of sparkling cellophane falling onto the stage and out into the auditorium. I’m not sure why this happened and it was perhaps the one aspect of momenta that seemed entirely unnecessary. But momenta was such an absorbing production that this odd addition could just be pushed aside and basically forgotten.

The work is a huge credit to the underlying approach to contemporary dance that we have come to expect from Bonachela in his leadership of Sydney Dance Company.

Michelle Potter, 25 June 2024

Postscript: There were some great production shots from momenta but they were not captioned with the names of dancers. Why? As a result I have limited myself to just three shots, one of which I was able to caption (hopefully correctly).

Horizon. Bangarra Dance Theatre

13 June 2024. Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Below is my slightly enlarged review of Horizon, originally published online by Dance Australia on 17 June 2024. A link to the Dance Australia version is at this link.

Horizon is a collaborative venture focusing on selected dance customs and activities in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand. It is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first mainstage, international collaborative initiative, a momentous and admirable undertaking. But the production was not without some issues.

Horizon was officially described as a double bill but there were three works on the program. Two were linked by the overarching title, The Light Inside, with one by former Bangarra senior artist Deborah Brown, the other by Māori choreographer and director of Auckland’s New Zealand Dance Company, Moss Patterson. Despite the linking by title, each displayed a quite different approach, especially in a choreographic sense. I’m not really sure why the two weren’t thought of as separate works. The coupling seemed to me to be just a convenient and non-dance way of making an association between two works on the program.

Horizon opened with a short work, Kulka, by Sani Townson, former Bangarra dancer and now Youth Programs Coordinator with the company. His focus was on nighttime and the fact that his specific Torres Strait Island society abounds in traditional songs and dances about constellations. Those songs and dances are guides to the totems and clans that make up the culture of the society.

Nine dancers performed Kulka to a percussive score by Amy Flannery. A strong, dominant role was taken by dancer Kassidy Waters. The choreography for Kulka was, however, a little repetitive especially in the beginning when Waters was constantly held upside down and carried across the stage in this position. But Townson later developed some interesting groupings of dancers and introduced us to a feature of Horizon that was repeated throughout each of the works: the dancers were mirrored in a structure that acted as a kind of backcloth in the case of Kulka, or later in the show as reflections in a watery foreground.

Callum Goolang, Kassidy Waters and Daniel Mateo in *Kulka* from *Horizon*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Deborah Brown’s contribution to The Light Inside was subtitled Salt Water. Opening with a magnificent solo from Daniel Mateo, Salt Water was performed to a score by Steve Francis and Brendon Boney. Brown’s choreography was beautifully fluid, mesmerising even, with all the dancers contributing to what was an outstanding performance. A particular highlight was a solo by Lillian Banks called Blue Star. This section told of a seasonal change when moisture in the air makes the stars twinkle and turn blue. This change becomes a guide for the daily work of the seafaring peoples of the Torres Strait Islands. Banks gave a clarity to every moment of the choreography.

Moss Patterson’s contribution, also performed to the score by Francis and Boney, had the subtitle Fresh Water reflecting Patterson’s background growing up in the area around Lake Taupo on the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand.

His choreography had overtones of the Māori haka and I couldn’t stop my mind moving out of the theatre to football matches between Australia and New Zealand, which inevitably contain a haka at the start of the match. But the work ended in a quieter fashion with the full ensemble dancing to suggest peace, with final moments proposing the meeting of salt and fresh water.

As is always the case with Bangarra productions, there were elements beyond the choreography that were standouts. In particular the costume designs by Clair Parker for Kulka and Jennifer Irwin for The Light Inside, were exceptional. At one stage Irwin’s costumes for Salt Water featured extended sleeves and similar additions to other parts of the costumes. These additions were manipulated by the dancers so that choreography and costume moved as extensions of each other.

Emily Flannery, Maddison Paluch and Courtney Redford in a scene from *Salt Water* in *The Light Inside*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

It is unfortunate, however, that the lighting design by Karen Norris was quite dark for much of the time, and the beautifully decorative elements of the costumes were only really clear via production images. Elizabeth Gadsby’s set design made quite clear the concept of the horizon around which the works were developed.

The evening was quite different from what we have been used to watching from Bangarra. ‘Quite different’ because the usual narrative-style approach we so often associate with works from Bangarra was missing, or at least the works were based on much more abstract ideas than has usually been the case. Hope and light across and within cultures, with water also a feature, were the themes I extracted from the production.

Michelle Potter, 17 June 2024