Cranko. The film

21 May 2025. Screened at the German Film Festival, Palace Electric Cinemas, Canberra

Cranko is quite a long film, over two hours. But it has such an engrossing narrative, as well as being a superbly realised production, that those two and a bit hours absolutely raced along. The film held one’s attention from beginning to end.

Directed and written by Joachim Lang, Cranko is, to use the media description, a ‘biopic’ of John Cranko, South African-born dancer and choreographer who directed Stuttgart Ballet from 1961 until his premature death in 1973. We are given brief information about his early life and aspects of his pre-Stuttgart dance career in England, but the film centres on his career with Stuttgart Ballet, a career that sees him engage, as both director and choreographer and even friend, with the artists who created for the company, including not just dancers but administrative personnel, designers, composers and others.

The ‘engagement’ was filled with all kinds of behaviour from Cranko. His personality was quite varied: he shouted pretty much at the drop of a hat, for example; he ignored standard procedures like ‘no smoking’ signs; he loved and there were a number of aspects of loving for him; he drank to the extent of being an alcoholic; he was at times overcome by depression and we were made aware of his attempts at suicide; and more. But basically he cared about dance. We see it all and his personality is brilliantly portrayed by Sam Riley, the actor who plays Cranko.

A still from *Cranko* showing Sam Riley as Cranko.

The action largely takes place in the studios of Stuttgart Ballet and its surrounds although we are taken to New York and the Met on a number of occasions when the company had engagements there. The dance component is stunningly danced by artists of the present day Stuttgart Ballet and the dance happens on many occasions and at times in unexpected ways. There are several sections from Romeo and Juliet and Onegin and I was especially delighted to see excerpts, filmed outdoors on a park bench, from The Lady and the Fool, a ballet I haven’t seen for many years. Perhaps most outstanding of the dancers was Elisa Badenes who played the role of Marcia Haydée, a major star of Stuttgart Ballet during the Cranko era and beyond. But the dancing throughout was just superb from the entire dancing cast.

Elisa Badenes and Friedemann Vogel in a moment from *Onegin*. Photo: Roman Novitzky/Stuttgart Ballet.

Cranko’s death on board a plane returning Stuttgart Ballet personnel from the United States to Germany is perhaps the most frustrating part of the film. Cranko takes a sleeping pill but doesn’t wake up and is mourned by those on board and by the people who meet the plane when it lands. But we don’t really get any idea of what happened. Was it that pill?*

But there was a truly moving section at the end as the credits began. The original artists, whose life with Cranko was examined in the film, appeared (where that was possible) alongside the current dancers—Marcia Haydée stood next to Elisa Badenes for example. Just so moving.

Cranko is a spectacular film. I can’t wait to see it again—somehow.

Michelle Potter, 22 May 2025

Featured image: A still from Cranko showing Sam Riley as Cranko

* After a bit of research I found that the plane had been diverted and had landed in Dublin where hospital attempts (unsuccessful) were made to reverse the situation. Later a Dublin-based Coroner made the following statement: ‘Mr. Cranko had taken chloral hydrate, a drug prescribed by his phyiicians, and the amount he took was nowhere near a fatal dose. Death was due to asphyxia by stomach inhalation while under the hypnotic effect of the drug, the coroner said. “This was an accidental death,” he declared.’

Manon. The Australian Ballet (2025)

14 May 2025. Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Having just reread Different Drummer, Jann Parry’s 2009 biography of Kenneth MacMillan, choreographer of the ballet Manon, I was curious to see the Australian Ballet’s production of that work. Would the background that Parry provides in her biography open up the work for me. Well I wasn’t disappointed.

As a choreographer MacMillan is definitely a ‘different drummer’ and it was a particular treat to watch his pas de deux, the format with which, according to Parry, he loved to start work on each new initiative. Although I thought some of the pas de deux in Manon might be considered a little long (the final one in which Manon died in the arms of Lescaut for example), all were spectacular in terms of the connections, physical and emotional, that the choreography set up between whichever two characters were involved. Not only that I was fascinated to watch the tiny details MacMillan put into his choreography. The feet and the hands often took on surprising details, and the pirouettes and tours en l’air from the male dancers often ended in unusual ways that clearly required exceptional technical input. Then there was MacMillan’s handling of groups of dancers, including some quite beautiful moments of canon-style choreography. As a whole, the choreography of Manon is truly masterful.

But who staged the production I wondered? For the choreography to look as remarkable as it did, the work also needed to be staged well and with more than a passing understanding of what constitutes excellence in staging a narrative ballet. It turned out that this production was staged by Laura Morera and Gregory Mislin. Mislin is the Royal Ballet’s choreologist. Morera is a former Royal Ballet dancer whose work I have admired on many an occasion but who is now artistic supervisor for both the MacMillan and the Scarlett Estates. Morera was recently principal coach for Queensland Ballet’s production of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet, which was staged by Gary Harris. Both Harris and Morera did a magnificent job on that occasion. So I was not a bit surprised when I discovered Morera had staged the Australian Ballet’s Manon. The Australian Ballet’s Manon, like the Queensland Ballet Romeo and Juliet, was completely engaging as a story from beginning to end, as well of course as being fabulously danced by the impressive artists of the Australian Ballet.

At the mid-season matinee I attended I saw Jill Ogai as Manon and Marcus Morelli as Des Grieux, Manon’s (eventual and final) lover. Both danced well, perhaps especially Morelli who attacked the choreography with strength and commitment. But for me the standout dancers were Cameron Holmes as Lescaut (Manon’s brother) and Katherine Sonnekus as Lescaut’s mistress. They both have secure techniques, which allows plenty of freedom to develop characterisation. The acting from both of them was outstanding making it easy for the audience to engage with them. The absolute highlight was their pas de deux in Act II at the party given by Madame X (Gillian Revie) at which Lescaut had had one too many glasses (or bottles) of alcohol. His drunken stumbles, at which the audience fell about laughing, simply made his attack on MacMillan’s demands look even more brilliant. Sonnekus managed to handle beautifully the many incredible lifts that, cleverly, looked like the work of a drunken man but which were definitely MacMillan-esquely balletic.

The music by Jules Massenet was nicely played by Opera Australia Orchestra while Peter Farmer’s sets and costumes evoked well the period and the locations. With all aspects of the production working together so well, the story (which I have not gone into in detail here*) was clear and the two to three hours of dancing was an absolute delight.

I guess my one quibble is that this production really needs a bigger stage than that of the Joan Sutherland Theatre (a common issue of course). There were times, especially in Act I, when there was just too much happening on stage. The activities were being brilliantly handled but there were times when those activities were too close to the main action and were thus distracting from that action to too great an extent.

Despite the quibble, this production of Manon showed MacMillan’s brilliance. Huge compliments must go to Laura Morera and Gregory Mislin for their input in making that brilliance shine through, not forgetting that the dancing was splendid across the board from the dancers of the Australian Ballet.

Michelle Potter, 15 May 2025

Featured image: Artists of the Australian Ballet in the card scene from Act II of Manon, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

*For a synopsis of Manon see this link.

Garden. QL2 Dance

2 May 2025. Fitters’ Workshop, Kingston, Canberra

Garden took place in a very different venue from what we are used to for productions by QL2 Dance: the Fitters’ Workshop in the Canberra suburb of Kingston. I was somewhat taken aback when I first heard of this major change from the traditional theatre space in which the annual May production by QL2 has usually taken place. I’d never heard of the Fitters’ Workshop (despite having lived in Canberra for several decades). But, after doing some research into what and where it was, I was more than a little taken aback—it was a space with no stage, no dressing rooms, no seating, nothing of a theatrical nature really. It seemed like nothing more than an empty rectangular space.*

Well I needn’t have worried really as the space had been fitted out by QL2 with a portable stage that covered pretty much the length of the hall. The stage was raised off the floor and I assumed, therefore, that it was a sprung stage. Great! Cross lighting had been installed and three or so rows of tiered seating had been placed along one wall. There was a curtained off area at each end of the stage, one of which was used as a dressing area. Would the dance works be well accommodated in this area I wondered?

I am also assuming this set up was not permanent because the Fitters’ Workshop seems to be available for hire for other activities (at least it was, and perhaps still is?). Will QL2 continue to perform in this building?

Garden opened with Bloom choreographed by James Batchelor to a score by Batchelor’s frequent collaborator, Morgan Hickinbotham. Bloom continued Batchelor’s ongoing interest in the lineage of Ausdruckstanz, the expressive dance movement that had its beginnings with choreographers working in the early twentieth century in Germany and Austria. It began with a certain degree of simplicity in movement and groupings but slowly became more complex and developed greater connections between dancers when some duets as well as some solo work were introduced. There was an emphasis throughout on curved arm movements and ongoing fluidity. Every moment was beautifully performed by all the dancers whatever their age.

The shape of the performing space was wide rather than deep and Batchelor’s choreography seemed to take advantage of this with a constant and engrossing crossing of the wide area available. The idea behind Bloom was to indicate intergenerational connections and the growth of artists across time. It worked well.

Duet from Bloom. QL2 Dance, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner, O&J Wikner Photography

The second work on the program was the beginning is the end is the beginning with choreography by Alice Lee Holland and performed to sound by STREAMS, a ‘convergence’, as program notes tell us, between Malcolm McDowell and Stevie Smiles. In many respects the work seemed somewhat similar in choreographic content to Bloom especially in the continued emphasis on arms, the way in which the wide stage space was used, and in the juxtaposition of group and solo work. I wondered whether there had perhaps been too much emphasis on input from the dancers rather than from the choreographer?

The beginning is the end is the beginning was distinguished in my eyes, however, by the way the younger dancers performed. While all performers danced strikingly, with passion and commitment, the young dancers performed with a technique that defied their age. The work continued the overall theme of the program, that of artistic growth across time.

Costumes for both works were by Andrew Treloar, whose experience is broad-ranging across art forms and companies. They were quite loose fitting and thus eminently danceable costumes. They looked great too.

As a final comment, the Fitters’ Workshop worked quite well as a venue for this show, although I still wonder whether or not the young dancers are missing out on the experience of working in a traditional theatre space. A regular theatre is a somewhat different experience and is a space that many of them will find themselves working in should they go on to a professional career. Having said that, I have to say that the standard of the dancing in both works was a credit to all.

Michelle Potter, 7 May 2025

Featured image: Scene from Alice Lee Holland’s the beginning is the end is the beginning. QL2 Dance, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner, O&J Wikner Photography

*The current Fitters’ Workshop website gives the following historical information: ‘The Fitters’ Workshop is a heritage listed building and part of the Kingston Power House historic precinct. Constructed in 1916-1917 and designed by John Smith Murdoch, the Fitters’ Workshop formed a key part of a wider industrial complex that enabled maintenance of government plant and equipment, and construction work.’

A Book of Hours. Rubiks Collective

3 May 2025. National Film and Sound Archive, Canberra International Music Festival

My review of A Book of Hours was published by CityNews online on 4 May. Below is a slightly altered version of the review. For those of my readers who may not know the ‘bonang’, which is mentioned in the text, I have added some images at the end of this post. The review as in CityNews is at this link.

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The production A Book of Hours gives our ears a classical-contemporary score by Kate Neal, created with the concept of the medieval Book of Hours and its divisions of time as its focus. But the score is more a reimagining of those ideas and asks us look at how time is spent in the present day. The performance in Canberra was part of the Canberra International Music Festival and the score was played by the Rubiks Collective.

The Collective consists of four musicians performing on flute (of which there was more than one) played by Tamara Kohler, on keyboard with Jacob Abela, on cello from Gemma Kneale and on percussion by Kaylie Melville. The score had, to my ears, a strongly percussive overall sound. It made for interesting listening.

Our eyes were given much to take in. The music was played in front of video footage in various formats projected on to a screen at the back of the performing space. Those formats included various kinds of animation from visual artist Sal Cooper, as well as examples of human movement from choreographer Gerard van Dyck, who also performed the movement on film. It was often a fascinating watch especially those moments when van Dyck appeared to be continually falling from the sky.

In addition, much movement was generated onstage by the musicians. They interrupted moments of playing with various personal actions such as cleaning their teeth, combing their hair, adding underarm deodorant, and with various movements of the hands unrelated to the playing of an instrument.

But listening to the score and watching the playing of it, I was surprised to see the percussion section included an instrument that I thought was an Indonesian bonang, the well-known instrument that includes a collection of gongs on a wooden platform. The trouble is that in this case the gongs were of an assortment of different sizes and scattered randomly across the platform. Who knows what an Indonesian would think of it? I disliked the mess that was there given that the instrument is actually a beautifully arranged series of gongs in horizontal lines. Although I guess the mess fitted with the idea of the reimagining around which the overall work was made.

So, what of the hours themselves? They were represented on screen by a huge variety of images of clock faces, some even created from a circle of decorative biscuits. In addition to the biscuits there were speaking clocks, small and large images of all kinds of clocks, as well as digital expressions of time passing. Although it seemed at times that the clocks would never go away as there were so many of them coming and going, in many respects the variety of clocks shown on the screen was the most interesting aspect of the whole show.

A Book of Hours was, to my mind, a multi-media novelty item. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes interesting to hear and watch. But it was also sometimes over the top and do we listen or watch? It was hard to decide. I’d rather listen OR watch rather than being presented with the impossible decision the production asked us to make.

Michelle Potter, 5 May 2025

Featured image: A scene from A Book of Hours in Canberra showing an episode of tooth cleaning on the screen behind the musicians. Photo: © Peter Hislop

(left) A bonang from the Musical Instruments Museum in Phoenix, Arizona. Photo: ksblack99; (right) A section of a bonang (in the foreground)—Embassy of the Republic of Indonesia, Canberra, open day 2019. Photo: © Neville Potter

Dance diary. April 2025

April is the middle month of Autumn in the southern hemisphere. Spectacular colours abound in nature as dance for 2025 continues, despite a disheartening approach to funding for the art form.

The difficult financial situation that Queensland Ballet is facing, for example, is more than disheartening, although the exact changes that are being made to the company are yet to be fully revealed. To date, Brett Clark, Chair of QB Board, is reported as saying (amongst other remarks on the situation): Over the years, we have worked hard to leverage our base grants from State and Federal Governments and have unapologetically advocated loudly for parity of Federal funding to bring us in line with our peers in New South Wales and Victoria. To date we have been unsuccessful.

In 2025, to ensure our ongoing sustainability, we have made the difficult decision to re-vision our organisation across our Artistic and Business teams which will see us farewell some of our artists and arts workers.

It is also thoroughly frustrating that in the lead-up to the federal election in Australia on 3 May no political party appears to have made any mention of the arts.

New books

Elizabeth Dalman’s book, Nature moves, was launched in Canberra on 27 April 2025 with a short opening performance from Vivienne Rogis and Peng Hsaio-yin. The performance was followed by a launch speech from Cathy Adamek, executive director of Ausdance ACT.

The performance was danced on a lawn that fronts a particular shopping area in Canberra, and under a large and very old tree—appropriate of course given that Dalman’s book examines dance and nature. When the dance came to an end, the audience simply crossed the road for the launch function, which was held in, and sponsored by, the local bookshop, The Book Cow.

Vivienne Rogis (standing) and Peng Hsaio-yin dancing at the launch of *Nature Moves*, Canberra 2025. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Under the heading ‘Press for April 2025’ (see below) is my short article, which was published in CityNews on 28 April 2025, and which expands a little on how the launch unfolded.

Nature Moves is available from The Book Cow, via this link.

I also discovered, quite accidentally, news about the latest publication by Jill Rivers, whose generosity to reviewers I remember clearly from a period, some years ago now, when she was media director for the Australian Ballet. Her current publication, The Genius of Nijinsky, is an interesting read as Rivers had spent much time speaking to the present-day family of Vaslav Nijinsky. Her presence with, and thoughts about, those family members in a range of situations, sometimes quite personal, are embedded within the story.

The Genius of Nijinsky can be bought via a link to the site Art-full Living.

David Hallberg at Jacob’s Pillow, 2012

The latest playlist from Jacob’s Pillow has a short clip of David Hallberg, currently artistic director of the Australian Ballet, performing Nacho Duato’s Kaburias. Watch at this link.

A still showing David Hallberg in a moment from *Kaburias*, Jacob’s Pillow 2012

Just a year or two prior to the performance at Jacob’s Pillow, I had the pleasure of seeing Hallberg perform solo in New York in the series Kings of the Dance. Read my review here.

International Dance Day 2025

International Dance Day, 29 April, is always celebrated with a message from a major figure in the dance world. This year, 2025, the message came from Mikhail Baryshnikov whose comment read:

It’s often said that dance can express the unspeakable. Joy, grief, and despair become visible; embodied expressions of our shared fragility. In this, dance can awaken empathy, inspire kindness, and spark a desire to heal rather than harm.

Especially now—as hundreds of thousands endure war, navigate political upheaval, and rise in protest against injustice—honest reflection is vital. It’s a heavy burden to place on the body, on dance, on art. Yet art is still the best way to give form to the unspoken, and we can begin by asking ourselves: Where is my truth? How do I honor myself and my community? Whom do I answer to?

Latvian-born, Baryshnikov defected from the USSR in 1974. He has performed in Australia on various occasions, including in 1975 when he appeared with Ballet Victoria.

Mikhail Baryshnikov as Albrecht. *Giselle*, Act Ii. Ballet Victoria, 1975. Photo: © Walter Stringer/National Library of Australia

Press for April 2025

Dalman’s book looks at the creation of dance in nature

Michelle Potter, 30 April 2025