Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet. Repertoire and performance schedule for 1934–1935 tour

The following schedules and lists from the 1934–1935 tour by the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet are taken from my article ‘The Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet 1934–1935: Australia and beyond’ published in Dance Research (Edinburgh University Press), 29:1 Summer 2011.

The information has been gathered from various sources including newspapers (advertisements and reviews) and programs. In particular the following newspapers provided useful information, The Argus (Melbourne), Cape Times (Cape Town), The Courier-Mail (Brisbane), De Locomotief (Semarang), The Star (Johannesburg), The Straits Times (Singapore), The Sydney Morning Herald, The Times of India (Bombay), and The West Australian (Perth). The letters and 1935 clipping books of Harcourt Algeranoff (MS 2376, National Library of Australia) also provided some useful material, particularly about Ceylon, India and Egypt, as did the personal archive of Anna Northcote (Severskaya).

'Carnaval', Dandre-Levitoff Russian Ballet
Dancers of the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet in Carnaval, 1934 or 1935. Anna Northcote (centre), Travis Kemp as Pierrot. Personal archive of Anna Northcote (Severskaya). Private collection

I have standardised spellings of names of works in the repertoire using what I think is the most commonly used form today. The material contained in these appendices should not be considered as necessarily complete or definitive at this stage.

APPENDIX A: REPERTOIRE and PERFORMANCE SCHEDULE

SOUTH AFRICA [1934]

Cape Town: Cape Town Opera House

Program 1 (18-26 May)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2 (28 May-2 June)Carnaval, Visions, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 3 (4-9 June)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements

Durban: Theatre Royal

Program 1 (13-17 June)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2 (18-20 June)Carnaval, Visions, Divertissements
Program 3 (21-23? June)Unknown repertoire *

* A third program is mentioned in an undated newspaper clipping in the Anna Northcote archive although no specific details are given.

Pietermaritzburg 24-26 June; Pretoria 27-30 June

No evidence has yet emerged of performances in these two cities. That the company stayed for several days in each city suggests, however, that at least one program may have been scheduled in each city.

Johannesburg: His Majesty‘s Theatre

Program 1 (2-7 July)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2 (9-14 July)Visions, Carnaval, Divertissements
Program 3 (16-21 July)Les Sylphides, The Magic Flute, Divertissements
Program 4 (23-28 July)Egyptian Ballet, Swan Lake (Act II), Divertissements

Lourenço Marques (Maputo) : Teatro Varieta

Program 1 (3 August)La Fille mal gardée, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements

SINGAPORE [1934]

Capitol Theatre

Program 1 (2-4 September)Swan Lake (Act II), La Fille mal gardée, Divertissements
Program 2 (5-6 September)Les Sylphides, The Magic Flute, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements

INDONESIA [1934]

Batavia (Jakarta): theatre unknown

Batavia (Jakarta) (12-16 September)La Fille mal gardée (complete repertoire unknown)

Bandoeng (Bandung): theatre unknown

Program 1 (18-19 September)Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia (complete repertoire unknown)

Soerabaia (Surabaya): theatre unknown

Program 1: 22-23 SeptemberLa Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Divertissements
Program 2: 24-? SeptemberRepertoire unknown

AUSTRALIA [1934–1935]

Brisbane: His Majesty‘s Theatre

Program 1 (10-12 October)Swan Lake (Act II), La Fille mal gardée, Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2  (13, 15-16 October)Visions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 3 (17-19 October)Les Sylphides, The Magic Flute, Divertissements
Program 4 (20 October) matinee and evening showsSwan Lake (Act II), Egyptian Ballet, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 5 (22-23 October)Les Sylphides, Egyptian Ballet, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements

Sydney: Theatre Royal

Program 1 (27 October-2 November)Swan Lake (Act II), La Fille mal gardée, Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2 (3- 9 November)Les Sylphides, The Magic Flute, Promenade (Old Vienna),  Divertissements
Program 3  (10-16 November)Visions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 4 (17- 23 November)Raymonda, Egyptian Ballet, Venusberg, Divertissements
Program 5 (24 November)Swan Lake (Act II), La Fille mal gardée, Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 6 (26- 27 November)Les Sylphides, The Magic Flute, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 7 (28 November)Carnaval, Venusberg, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements

Melbourne: Kings Theatre (transferring to the Comedy on 24 December)

Program 1 (1-7 December)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 2 (8-14 December)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 3 (15-22 December)Egyptian Ballet, Raymonda, Venusberg, Divertissements
Program 4 (22-28 DecemberVisions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 5 (29-31 December)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements

Perth: His Majesty‘s Theatre

Program 1 (8-12 January)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 2 (14-16 January)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 3 (17-19 January)Visions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements

CEYLON [1935]

Colombo: Regal Theatre

Program 1 (31 January)Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 2 (1 February)Repertoire unknown

INDIA [1935]

Madras

May or may not have performed in Madras

Calcutta: Theatre unknown

9-23 February: Repertoire unknown

Delhi: Theatre unknown

Dates and repertoire unknown

Bombay: Excelsior Theatre

Program 1 (2-5 March)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Pogram 2 (6-8 March)Visions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 3 (9-12 March)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 4 (13-15 March)Egyptian Ballet, Les Sylphides, Venusberg, Divertissements

EGYPT [1935]

Cairo: Alhambra Theatre

Program 1 (27-29 March)La Fille mal gardée, Swan Lake (Act II), Polovtsian Dances, Divertissements
Program 2 (30 March-2 April)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements
Program 3 (3-5 April)Visions, Carnaval, Suite from Coppélia, Divertissements
Program 4 (9-11 April)Egyptian Ballet, Swan Lake (Act II), Venusberg, Divertissements

Alexandria: Alhambra Theatre

Program 1 (13 April?-?)Repertoire unknown
Program 2 (16 April-?)The Magic Flute, Les Sylphides, Promenade (Old Vienna), Divertissements

Port Said: Theatre unknown

24-25 April: Repertoire unknown

Two further appendices (B: Australian Divertissements and C: Dancers appearing in Australia) are contained in the full article but are not reproduced here. All textual material contained in these appendices and in the article is the intellectual property of The Society for Dance Research and should not be reproduced without permission. Full bibliographic details.

Michelle Potter, 22 June 2011

Featured image: Dancers of the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet in La Fille mal gardée, 1934 or 1935. Tzigane group left to right: Vera Sevna, Eileen Keegan, Anna Northcote, Molly Lake. Personal archive of Anna Northcote (Severskaya). Private collection.

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Rain (Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker). Paris Opera Ballet

Most publicity related to the recent Paris Opera Ballet season of Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker’s Rain comments that the Belgian choreographer thought long and hard about having her work enter the repertoire of the Paris Opera Ballet. Would she or would she not agree to Brigitte Lefèvre’s request? Her vocabulary is just so different from that at the heart of the Paris Opera Ballet.

Reading these comments I thought about Merce Cunningham’s exquisite Summerspace entering the repertoire of New York City Ballet in 1966 and recalled that some Cunningham dancers say they sat in the theatre on opening night and cried as they watched it. I have never seen de Keersmaeker’s own company dancers perform Rain so I have no idea whether what I saw by the astonishing dancers of the Paris Opera Ballet would have induced tears in others. However, I know what reactions it elicited in me. Probably for the first time in my dance going career I felt that there was a real and palpable cross fertilisation between music and dance and that the design also contributed in its own way, all components advancing for me the simple idea of there being detail in detail.

Rain is danced to a score by Steve Reich, Music for eighteen musicians, pour ensemble avec voix, written in 1976, and the activity in the pit (and I had a seat close enough to have an excellent view of the musicians) was almost as good as what was happening on stage. The musicians of Ensemble Ictus and Synergy Vocals worked relentlessly to produce the sound just as the dancers worked relentlessly to put the choreography before us. Some, like the violinist, played pretty much constantly for the entire 70 minute piece, others occasionally changed positions in the pit or moved to play a different instrument. It looked as choreographed as the dance it accompanied.

From a dance point of view the work was full of the runs and falls, the off-centre leaning, the kicks of the legs, the pivots that we might expect of de Keersmaeker’s brand of dance. But the whole was beautifully arranged. Take the off-centre leans. They featured early in the piece but were picked up again towards the end of the work and repeated with arms lifted high rather than by the side. Devices of this kind featured throughout and gave the work a strong and logically organised internal structure within a seemingly random array of  individualistic dance moves. The ten dancers, three men and seven women, demonstrated the innate ability that the Paris Opera Ballet dancers have to articulate movement in different parts of the body. Just as every note of music and every small change could be heard clearly, every minute change of movement had the essential clarity needed to make de Keersmaeker’s choreography detailed rather than seemingly repetitive

Danced within a large semi-circle of suspended ropes designed and lit by Jan Versweyveld, the work began and finished theatrically with the dancers appearing first and last to us as shadows behind the rope circle. At times throughout the piece they moved to the front of the stage and smiled out to us, inviting us to share what seemed to be a joyous experience.

Costumes by Dries van Noten were made of light fabric initially in honey shades. They moved freely and consisted of simple skirts and tops or shift-style dresses for the women and pants and shirts for then men. Like the music and the choreography they too underwent small changes. A light honey brown skirt was changed to a rose one; a pale T shirt became a fuschia coloured one; a light dress became magenta; until at the end all changes had changed again back to the honey shades of the beginning.

It was done without fuss and without excess. And it was simply beautiful.

Michelle Potter, 11 June 2011

Olga Spessivtseva. Her contract for Java and Australia

What treasures are still to be found in archival repositories around the world! Still on the trail of Olga Spessivtseva in Australia, I went through the process of gaining access to the archives of the museum and library of the Paris Opera, now part of the National Library of France. With formalities completed, I discovered, to my absolute delight, a folder of contracts for various of Spessivtseva’s engagements. Ít included a collection of documents relating to her engagement by Victor Dandré for the Javanese and Australian component of the 1934–1935 world tour by the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet.

Several versions of the contract have been preserved, including some early versions heavily annotated in more than one hand. The earliest version indicates that Dandré began with the standard contract issued by Alexander Levitoff to other dancers in the company and altered that contract to suit Spessivtseva’s (and his own) requirements. Although no signed version exists in the collection, several copies of what appears to be the final version are intact. This version makes clear that the contract was a personal one between Dandré and Spessivtseva.

According to this final version, which is undated but from other contextual information in the Paris collection was probably written in June 1934, Spessivtseva was to leave Europe no later than 20 July 1934 to be in Batavia—present day Jakarta—before 15 August. Her contract was to begin on 15 August and was for a period of 20 weeks until 2 January 1935. It was to cover Java and Australia, or if required other countries (with the exception of Europe). The management reserved the right to extend the contract for a period of not more than 3 months, not including the return to Europe. This of course turned out to be a non-issue as Spessivtseva did not dance with the company after the Sydney season, which concluded on 28 November. She returned to Europe on the London-bound R. M. S. Orama, sailing from Sydney on 22 December.

Spessivtseva’s monthly payment under this contract was 15,000 francs (or the equivalent in foreign currency) payable fortnightly. While I have not yet been able adequately to compare this seemingly large figure with any average earnings in France in 1934, I found some evidence that in 1930 a French university professor was earning a monthly salary of around 4,000 francs. In addition, all Spessivtseva’s travel was to be in first class cabins, or sleeping compartments if travel was by train.

One has to imagine that Dandré cancelled Spessivtseva’s contract after Sydney, although there is as yet no evidence to support this. The Paris document stipulates, however, that the management reserved the right to terminate the contract if illness prevented the artist from taking part in performances for more than one week.

While much of the mystery of Spessivtseva’s Australian interlude still remains, this contract fills in a few more details of the puzzle.

© Michelle Potter, 8 June 2011

For related posts see the Spessivtseva and Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet tags. See also my extended article on the tour by the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet published in Dance Research, Vol. 29, No 1, Summer 2011.

Ballo della regina, Live fire exercise, DGV. The Royal Ballet

10 May 2011, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden

Every time I visit London and am lucky enough to see a performance by the Royal Ballet I am bowled over. The recent mixed bill of Balanchine’s Ballo della regina, Wayne McGregor’s brand-new Live fire exercise and Christopher Wheeldon’s DGV (Danse à grande vitesse) simply reinforced my view that the Royal is at a high point in its career—so many dancers of star quality or star potential, a coaching team that appears to work on developing a clear understanding of what lies behind each work and great programming.

Balanchine’s Ballo della regina opened this program. On the night I went, leading roles were danced by Lauren Cuthbertson and Sergei Polunin. It was especially rewarding to see Cuthbertson take command of a role so closely associated with that great American ballerina Merrill Ashley, who created the leading female role in 1978. On stage Ashley always looked as American as apple pie, you might say, with her glowingly healthy face, her forthright (and fabulous) technique, and a kind of no holds barred, no nonsense approach. Cuthbertson, however, had a different approach. Ashley showed the steps, and how she showed them. Cuthbertson, with a lighter frame than Ashley, seemed to emphasis not so much individual moments but an overall fluidity. This is not to say that her dancing lacked highlights. Her ability to alter direction suddenly and to move with unexpected changes of speed was a real delight. And there was not a moment when she faltered. It was a great performance.

As for Polunin he had nothing to live up to as Robert Weiss, who partnered Ashley in 1978, never in my opinion really made the role his own. Polunin knocked me for six with his ability to cover space—the extension of the front leg in movements like grands jetés en avant was like an arrow speeding forward on a perfect course. And then there was the clarity of his beats and the perfection of his turns.

Four soloists—Melissa Hamilton stood out in particular—and a beautifully rehearsed corps de ballet made this Ballo a special treat.

Wayne McGregor’s Live fire exercise, made in collaboration with artist John Gerrard, on the surface could hardly have been more different. The starting point was a US army exercise in the Djibouti desert, a detonation designed to prepare troops for the physical effects of the mortar rounds or road side bombings they may encounter. A screen occupied a large part of the upstage area. On it was a projection of a desert scene and over time we saw the arrival of trucks and other machinery, a blast and the subsequent plume of fire and its smoky aftermath. In front of this video installation three men and three women performed McGregor’s demanding, highly physical choreography. In the background Michael Tippet’s Fantasia concertante on a theme of Corelli provided, almost as a juxtaposition, a kind of pastoral accompaniment.

McGregor’s choreography in Live fire exercise, showed his signature extensions with the dancers’ legs pushed high into positions that destroy the usual line of classical ballet, along with his approach to partnering with its emphasis on curved, twisted and folded bodies, and with his use of extreme falls. At one point Sarah Lamb performed a promenade in attitude on a bent supporting leg. She was supported in this by Eric Underwood who, once the circle of the promenade had been completed, swiftly lifted her and with a swirl threw her through the air. She travelled through the air, looking light as a feather with a perfectly held body, into the arms of another dancer. For me this moment put McGregor in a new light and his ability to use the classical vocabulary, and then to manipulate it became clear.

Overall, and almost unbelievably, the choreography seemed quite calm and considered. Throughout the piece single dancers occasionally stood quietly beside the video installation. They were lit so as to appear shadowy, isolated human beings figures against the plume of fire or smoke. They drew our attention from the choreography back to the footage and also served to remind us of the content of this footage and its underlying political message. Live fire exercise is the most personal of the works of McGregor that I have seen to date

In addition to Lamb and Underwood the cast comprised Cuthbertson, Polunin, Akane Takada, Federico Bonelli and Ricardo Cervera.

Closing the evening, Wheeldon’s DGV was something of a letdown. DGV is set to a score by Michael Nyman, MGV (Musique à grande vitesse), and draws inspiration from the idea of a journey with the French very fast train (TGV) the source of both Nyman’s and Wheeldon’s title. The work is essentially a series of four pas de deux with a corps to ballet of another eighteen dancers who often also work in pairs. It shows Wheeldon’s exceptional ability to create mesmerisng duets and his capacity to move large groups of people around the stage to create strong visual imagery. It was beautifully danced, especially by the corps and without a perfect corps the patterns falls apart, which they certainly didn’t on this occasion.

But I found the work a little repetitive and somewhat soporific. Maybe it was simply that it came after the McGregor with its underlying message of the politics of war? McGregor pushes his audience, Wheeldon doesn’t, or didn’t with DGV. Nevertheless DGV completed a wonderfully diverse and fabulously performed evening of dance.

Michelle Potter, 27 May 2011

Hélène Kirsova. Some problems with costumes

Back in 1995 I wrote an article on Hélène Kirsova for Dance Research. During the course of writing that article I came across a clipping in the Kirsova Archive held by the National Gallery of Australia, in which it was reported that Kirsova had had to postpone a Sydney season planned for September 1944 because she was unable to obtain the ration permit she needed to buy materials to make costumes. The article caused something of a stir and a rejoinder was published the following day from the deputy director of rationing, a Mr Hudson, who reported that Kirsova had in fact been given costume material far in excess of that given to any other similar company in Australia.

Recently a file held by the National Archives of Australia, Melbourne branch, in which the events are more fully spelled out became available and was brought to my attention. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the correspondence contained in this file emerges from letters between Kirsova and the director of rationing, a Mr J. B. Cumming, written largely during August and September 1944. Cumming wrote to Kirsova early in August explaining that his advice was that the Kirsova Ballet was a non-commercial concern, similar in nature to the Borovansky Ballet and the National Theatre Ballet. Such companies, he noted, gave performances for charitable, educational or cultural purposes and as such had a maximum allowance of material imposed upon them. The correspondence pointed out that Kirsova donated the proceeds of her performances to a charity, as indeed she did. Kirsova had set up a charity to provide playgrounds for children in depressed inner city suburbs in Sydney.

Kirsova was, however, not impressed with the designation ‘non-commercial’ and she replied that the Kirsova Ballet ‘has been conducted on an entirely professional basis from its very inception and my dancers and all other artists are paid by me in accordance with existing Awards.’ She was at unhappy being classed with the Borovansky Ballet, which, she suggested, until the season sponsored by the J. C. Williamson organisation in 1944 had ‘never before toured or appeared outside Melbourne’ and had been conducted ‘on an entirely amateur basis, confining itself to an occasional presentation of a few performances and studio club concerts.’ Kirsova intimated that if she were unable to obtain the necessary permit her company would have to close down and in fact this is what happened. Although Kirsova was invited to submit a proposal for material required for the following year, in the end (after appeals to the Prime Minister on her behalf and further discussion about what constituted a professional company) the last performance by the Kirsova Ballet was the one that had taken place in Brisbane in May 1944.

There has always been speculation about why the Kirsova Ballet disbanded and this new correspondence adds fuel to the speculation that Kirsova was a determined woman and  not one to compromise. To be classed as an amateur company and to be put into the same category as the Borovansky Ballet was for her simply beyond the pale.

Hélène Kirsova in Revolution of the Umbrellas, 1944. Photograph by The Telegraph (Brisbane). National Library of Australia. Reproduced with permission

My original article, ‘A strong personality and a gift for leadership: Hélène Kirsova in Australia’, was published in Dance Research, Vol 13 (No. 2, Winter 1995), pp.  62–76.

See also ‘Permits for Kirsova Ballet Company’, National Archives of Australia, Series no. B5661.

© Michelle Potter, 19 May 2011.

British Liaisons. The Australian Ballet

14 May 2011, Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House

This triple bill program, designed to highlight the strong links between British ballet and the growth of ballet in Australia, produced some moments that were absolute show stoppers.

None of those show stopping moments came, however, in Checkmate. Choreographed in 1937 by Dame Ninette de Valois as a battle between love and death played out on a chessboard, it opened the program. While for the most part it was adequately danced, it lacked any sustained suspense, which pretty much made a mockery of the whole thing. There is no doubt that Checkmate is an old fashioned work, highly stylised in its narrative and choreography. But some stronger characterisation, especially from Lucinda Dunn as the Black Queen, the seductress who ultimately brings about the downfall of the Red King, would have helped to make the work more enticing and anchored it in some kind of reality. Only Amy Harris as the Red Queen made anything of her role, a relatively minor one too, as she ushered in the Red King with kindness and concern. But without any strength of purpose from the other characters, Colin Peasley as the Red King had an uphill battle to make anything of his very important part.

But Christopher Wheeldon’s After the Rain, programmed as the middle piece, made up for the disappointments of Checkmate. The first section was strongly danced by Lana Jones, Amy Harris and Miwako Kubota partnered by Adam Bull, Andrew Killian and Brett Simon respectively. But it was the second section, the seductively beautiful pas de deux danced by Jones and Bull, that was the show stopper. Jones in particular captured the inner calm of this duet— ‘at the still point, there the dance is’ wrote T. S Eliot. Not only was Jones able capture the elusive quality of stillness and repose even as she moved or was moved by her partner, but with each lift one could only gasp at the curving line of her body as it cut through space until it reached the high point of the movement . There  it settled into its final, classically perfect shape. Bull partnered her with care and the tenderness that befits the emotional underpinning of the duet, but nothing could match the star quality of Jones.

Jones appeared again as the leading dancer in the first movement of Kenneth MacMillan’s Concerto, which closed the program. Here she showed another side of her technique, her clear, precise footwork and her ability to turn—especially her ability to turn as she executed a faultless series of chaîné turns across the stage from one downstage corner to the other. She also imbued her dancing in this movement with a beautifully pert quality bringing the audience into her ambit with smiling eyes and a sparkle to her every move. It made me long to see her dance the lead in Balanchine’s Rubies.

Concerto needed, however, a little more precision of technique from the corps de ballet to do justice to MacMillan’s spatial arrangements, which any straggly lines instantly destroy. And they were destroyed on more than one occasion. Juliet Burnett, however, made a strong impression with a beautifully controlled performance in the pas de deux that comprises the second movement. She was partnered by Andrew Killian who almost stole the limelight from her with his deliciously unexpected changes of expression and mood.

Company pianist Stuart Macklin deserves accolades too for his solo piano performances, first in Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel to which the pas de deux in After the Rain is performed, and then as soloist in the Shostakovich second piano concerto to which Concerto is danced.

At last, a few moments of excitement from an Australian Ballet performance. Oh that there could be more!

Michelle Potter, 16 May 2011

Bolero. Meryl Tankard & Régis Lansac

Bolero, by that remarkable duo Meryl Tankard and Régis Lansac, will have another European outing in April 2012. It will appear on a triple bill program by the Lyon Opera Ballet along with works by William Forsythe and Jiri Kylian. Is there any other Australian choreographer whose work can, over and over again, stand alongside those who are considered by most to be choreographic giants?

Bolero shows off Tankard’s capacity to create a vision of an ever-changing body in movement. It grows from earlier experiments with shadow play, which can be traced at least back to works made in Canberra—works such as Banshee and Nuti.

Bolero was first staged on commission from the Lyon Opera Ballet in 1998 shortly after Tankard had been dismissed as artistic director of Australian Dance Theatre. Its opening scene recalls a Javanese shadow play. Shadows in profile, delicately costumed in bell-shaped skirts with fretted designs are images of real dancers who are hidden behind a screen. As these dancers move across the stage space, they hold their arms in a way that casts two dimensional shapes onto the screen. They move jerkily through images of shadowy columns and disappear behind what appears to be the narrowest of slits between two architectural columns. They then re-emerge from this slim, vertical strip of light, and pursue their crossing of the space.

However, as the work proceeds—and it is performed entirely as a shadow play—the feeling of artificiality disappears. A feeling that this is a real world emerges, even though the audience is still involved in watching bodies behaving in mysterious ways. At one stage a man and a woman engage in a romantic interlude that changes emotional direction and ends with her being pushed to the ground. As she falls to the ground the floor swallows her up. The shadow of her body simply disappears from view. Further into the piece a Spanish dancer is joined by a headless woman and they dance alongside each other.

Set to the driving rhythms of Ravel’s Bolero, the dance gathers momentum along with the music. As both music and dance move to an inevitable climax, shadowy figures change size and shape and position. Some scurry across the space, some move with relentless slowness. There are multiple manifestations of the one figure. Frenzy and control. It is a technical tour de force for Lansac and a work in which the collaboration between Tankard and Lansac reaches a high point. The work was restaged in 2003 in Sweden by the GöteborgsOperans Balett but has never been seen in full in Australia.

© Michelle Potter, 25 April 2011

Featured image: a moment from Bolero. Photo: © Régis Lansac

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Madame Butterfly. The Australian Ballet

What impressed me most about this revival of Stanton Welch’s 1995 work Madame Butterfly was Welch’s ability to create a strong, dramatic effect by the simple, yet strategic placement of characters on the stage. It was especially, but not exclusively, noticeable towards the end of the work when Pinkerton returns to Nagasaki with is American wife Kate. It is then, with Sharpless, Suzuki, Butterfly and Sorrow also onstage, that the drama of what has occurred is fully realised. While various of the characters are the centre of attention at particular points during the unfolding of this part of the saga, the placement of the characters across the stage, and their attention—demanding stillness when the action is not especially focused on them—is powerfully moving. The girlish scenes between Butterfly and Suzuki are also memorable. Again it is often the placement of the two onstage in relation to the rest of the action that gives the scenes their strength, although the recurring motif of wiping away each other’s tears is also a strong device.

But despite the above, I find it hard to see a major artistic reason to justify the revival of Madame Butterfly. I can of course see that it attracts an audience and so can only imagine that the artistic team sees money as the main reason for staging a production. But no one looked comfortable in those shuffling ‘Japanese’ walking movements, heel leading in so obvious a manner. And how illogical it seems when shuffling and obsequious bowing are followed by full-on contemporary ballet, as in that long and demanding wedding night pas de deux for example. And how can one shuffle to the top of a flight of steps and then extend a beautifully arched foot, clad in a pointe shoe, and descend the stairs in balletic style. It looked just silly to me.

Madeleine Eastoe danced brilliantly as Butterfly. What a secure, fluid technique she has now. But she lacked the vulnerability needed for the role and quite honestly, with that soaringly beautiful technique, she is just not cut out to be a fifteen year old Japanese Geisha sublimating herself to a man the likes of Pinkerton. Juliet (about the same age) yes, but Butterfly—not in my opinion. But then again, maybe it’s the double-edged choreography that’s the problem?

The strongest performances to my mind came from Daniel Gaudiello as Sharpless and Reiko Hombo as Suzuki. Gaudiello had the advantage of playing a European character (the US Consul in Nagasaki) and so was not burdened by the fake Japanese movements. But that aside, his performance was impressive for the manner in which he created a distinctive character, often not so much through dancing but though small mannerisms such as the twist of a cuff or a slight movement of the head, all of which indicated a certain awkwardness at the situations in which he found himself.

Hombo as Suzuki was perfectly cast. She was ever attentive to Butterfly, sad when Butterfly was sad, happy and excited when Butterfly felt those emotions. Technically pretty much flawless too. A great job.

Sheree da Costa also gave a strong performance in the cameo role of Butterfly’s mother. But how I wish the Australian Ballet would delve into its extensive repertoire and give us some programming that is truly stimulating and forward looking. As the recent (traditional) production of Swan Lake by the English National Ballet showed, ballet isn’t dead. But sometimes it seems like it is.

Michelle Potter, 19 April 2011

Ludmilla Schollar in Australia

In his memoir Ballet mystique, George Zoritch remarks that Ludmilla Schollar accompanied her husband, Anatole Vilzak, to Australia on the 1934–1935 tour by the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet. Vilzak was the leading male dancer for a major part of that tour performing main roles in Java, Australia, Ceylon, India and Egypt. In Australia he partnered Olga Spessivtseva in Brisbane and Sydney, and then, following Spessivtseva’s departure, Natasha Bojkovich in Melbourne and Perth. But Schollar?

Schollar was a dancer of renown in her own right having graduated from the Imperial Theatre School in St Petersburg in 1906. She had danced at the Maryinsky Theatre and with Diaghilev and later with Ida Rubinstein’s company and with Bronislava Nijinska.

Ludmilla Schollar and Anatole Vilzak in ‘Carnaval’, postcard ca. 1920 National Library of Australia. Published with permission

There is no record, however, of her having performed in Australia or elsewhere on the Dandré-Levitoff tour. Other than Zoritch’s comments, the only mention of Schollar in relation to the tour that I had been able to find was on a passenger list in the issue of 27 September 1934 of the Dutch newspaper De Locomotief (published in Semarang, Java). A ‘Mrs Anatole Vilzak’  is listed as being on board the ship that was taking the Dandré-Levitoff company from Surabaya to Brisbane.

However, two photographs in the personal archive of Anna Northcote were recently brought to my attention. Neither photograph has any form of identification associated with it but they appear to show Schollar with others from the Dandré-Levitoff company. The photographs may have been taken in Australia in Melbourne or Perth. The dancers in Swan Lake costume in the line-up on stage are, I think, Vilzak and Bojkovich, which suggests that the photographs probably post-date Sydney where it was usually Spessivtseva who danced Odette. My identification of those in the photos is tentative at this stage and I would welcome any further information or comments.

l-r: Vladimir Launitz (conductor and musical director), Anatole Vilzak, Ludmilla Schollar, Natasha Bojkovich, unidentified gentleman. Personal archive, Anna Northcote (Severskaya). Private collection
Ludmilla Schollar with Vladimir Launitz standing behind her. Personal archive, Anna Northcote (Severskaya). Private collection

My extended article on the full 1934–1935 tour by the Dandré-Levitoff Russian Ballet will be published shortly in Dance Research, Vol. 29 (No. 1, Summer 2011) pp. 61–96.

Michelle Potter, 14 April 2011

Rachel Cameron Parker (1924-2011)

Rachel Cameron Parker, dancer and dance teacher who has died in London just a few weeks short of her 87th birthday, worked all her life to maintain the classical basis of ballet.

Rachel Cameron adjusting her ballet shoe, 1940s. Geoffrey Ingram Archive of Australian Ballet. With permission of the National Library of Australia. Photo by S. Alston Pearl [?]

On a trip to Australia in 1976 Cameron told oral historian Hazel de Berg:

‘I want the pure classical basis of the ballet to continue. I want it to continue in England, the whole of Europe, America, and Australia, so that we can extend and continue to build on this basis. I feel that out of 200 pupils maybe only one will grasp the real significance of this basic work. But out of 200 or 300, one person is enough for it to be handed down to future generations. I don’t want it to be lost.’

Cameron was born in Brisbane but spent her early childhood in Townsville in northern Queensland before moving to Sydney aged about 5 or 6. In Sydney she began dancing lessons with Muriel Sievers who had studied in London with Phyllis Bedells and who taught the syllabus of the Royal Academy of Dancing, as it was then called. It was with Sievers that Cameron first began teaching as Sievers quickly had her helping teach the youngest classes on Saturday morning. Sievers also insisted that Cameron take piano lessons and also lent her Tamara Karsavina’s book Theatre Street.

In the early 1940s Cameron danced with the Borovansky Australian Ballet Company, which later became the professional Borovansky Ballet and then with the Kirsova Ballet in Sydney, a company led by former star of the Monte Carlo Russian Ballet, Hélène Kirsova. There were also opportunities for Cameron to develop her teaching skills in Kirsova’s school, which was firmly grounded in what Kirsova referred to as the ‘Russian method’.

Cameron was given major roles in a number of Kirsova’s works including Revolution of the Umbrellas, Faust, A Dream…and a Fairy Tale, Harlequin, and Hansel and Gretel. She has recalled that her happiest days as a dancer were with Kirsova:

‘She was a woman who tried to mould her company in the Diaghilev tradition where music, the scenery, the dancers became part of one whole, and there it was I think that the true beginnings of Australian ballet lie.’

Moving to England with her husband Keith Parker, Cameron danced in Song of Norway and in a company directed by Molly Lake. She also studied in Paris with former stars of the Russian Imperial Ballet, Lubov Egorova and Olga Preobrajenska, and with many notable English teachers including Anna Northcote.

By her own admission one of the most exciting periods of her life came when she was asked to demonstrate for two great teachers and former ballerinas—Lydia Sokolova and Tamara Karsavina. With Karsavina she also developed a teaching syllabus for the Royal Academy of Dance.

‘Sokolova was absolutely marvellous,’ Cameron once recalled. ‘She was not content with near being good enough, it had to be exact or else.’

Of Karasavina, she has recalled: ‘I found for the first time that what I had always dreamed of was true, and that’s why, now, I am such a stickler for perfection of technique.’

Cameron was guest teacher for many companies around the world including the Australian Ballet. In December 2010 she was awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Coronation Award for a lifetime of services to dance. Rachel Cameron is survived by her brother Alister and nieces Alison, Fiona and Christine.

Rachel Cameron Parker: born 27 March 1924, died 6 March 2011

Michelle Potter, 13 April 2011

Postscript: One of the images of Cameron that has fascinated me, as much for its 1940s glamour as anything else, is that of her with her colleagues from the Kirsova Ballet, Peggy Sager and Strelsa Heckelman, posing outdoors at Taylor’s Bay close to Kirsova’s home on the northern shores of Sydney Harbour.

Clockwise from top: Peggy Sager, Strelsa Heckelman, Rachel Cameron, Taylor’s Bay, Sydney, 1943. With permission of the National Library of Australia.

Added 28 April 2011: Maina Gielgud studied with Rachel Cameron at various points in her life and they remained close friends until the end of Rachel’s life. Maina  shared this recollection:

Memories of Rachel from when she gave me private lessons when I was nine years old:   Passionate, outspoken, knowledgeable. I believe she was an excellent dancer with lots of personality and mammoth technique.

I always remember her coming to see me in Newcastle (UK) performing Swan Lake with Festival Ballet. I thought I was dancing quite well (for once!)—she said nothing, but wrote me a long letter which quite disillusioned me, but certainly made me rethink what I was up to and how I went about my work and my dancing…

She knew I knew that she only bothered because she thought I was worth it…