Chi Udaka. Lingalayam and TaikOz

19 October 2023. Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Chi Udaka was an outstanding collaborative venture between Lingalayam, a company directed by Australian-Indian dancer Anandavalli, and TaikOz, an Australian music group co-founded by Ian Cleworth and Riley Lee and currently directed by Cleworth. The show focused on Anandavalli’s interest in the two Indian classical dance styles of Bharata Natyam and Kuchipudi, and the intrinsic interest of TaikOz on drumming but with that interest extending to other instruments, especially the shakuhachi and, on this occasion, to the sounds of the cello of John Napier. Chi Udaka is not a new production but this 2023 presentation was part of the 50th anniversary celebrations of the Sydney Opera House. And the show itself was beautifully celebratory in its inspiring combination of music and dance.

‘Chi’ means earth in Japanese and ‘Udaka’ means water in Sanskrit so the production juxtaposed these two ideas with the story taking place within one day from early morning to late evening, although the focus was not really on a strong narrative structure but rather, at least for me, on artistic collaboration. Nevertheless, it began with a kind of meditation in the early light of morning, with a rare and welcome appearance by Anandavalli who introduced a rhythmic element with chanting and the playing of small hand held instruments, and who eventually rang a bell to announce the beginning of the day. It concluded with Anandavalli closing the show with a gathering together of the cast in a kind of closing communion, accompanied by singing from vocalist Aruna Parthiban.

Between these opening and closing moments the dancing and music were exceptional. The dancers, stunningly dressed in saris designed by Anandavalli, moved with close attention to the detailed movements of bodies, hands and feet of the classical Indian styles, and with extraordinary lyricism between individual movements. A highlight was a duet between one dancer and Riley Lee on the shakuhachi, but every combination of dancer and musician, and there were many different combinations, was transforming to watch and hear.

And can drummers dance? They certainly can. They were completely involved both in the very physical way they engaged with their instruments, and in their awareness that they were part of an overall production. They were just brilliant. But then so was Riley Lee with his shakuhachi and other flute-like instruments, as was John Napier with his cello.

A scene from *Chi Udaka*. Photo from the TaikOz website. Photographer not identified.

The overall ambience of the work was quite evocative of time and place, changing as the work progressed with a particularly strong contribution from lighting designer Karen Norris. It was in all a show that brought huge pleasure and a renewed interest in what dance and music can achieve together.

The complete work (from a 2016 production) is available on Vimeo at this link.

Michelle Potter, 23 October 2023

Featured Image: Promotional image for Chi Udaka from the Sydney Opera House website. Photographer not identified.

Douglas Wright. Many Happy Returns

14 October 2023. The Long Hall, Roseneath, Wellington
report by Jennifer Shennan

On Saturday 14 October, this past weekend, a gathering at The Long Hall in Roseneath marked the birthdate of Douglas Wright, arguably the most remarkable dance artist this country has ever known. Douglas died on 14 November 2018. Here is a link to my obituary.

If you google the name Douglas Wright, you find 92 million hits. They’re not all for our Douglas of course—though they could be, so prolific was his choreographic, literary and visual arts output.

Google cites: Douglas James Wright MNZM (14 October 1956–14 November 2018) was a New Zealand dancer and choreographer in the New Zealand arts establishment from 1980.

The arts establishment? It’s s surprise to read that since I doubt many, including Douglas, would see him as a member of The Establishment, whatever that means. (It sort of implies someone on salary in a sinecure job in arts administration, which Douglas certainly never was. All his work lurched from one project to another, and unbelievably his company was never offered secure funding. That was everybody’s loss).

Just as hard to fathom is an ACC listing (that’s Auckland City Council, not Accident Compensation Commission) of rooms for hire: ‘The Douglas Wright Room, which faces onto the carpark at the back of the building, can be booked in combination with the Leslie Comrie room.’

Who is Leslie Comrie, you ask. Born in Pukekohe 1893 (where Douglas was also born, 56 years later), Comrie, a University of Auckland graduate, became an astronomer and pioneering computer engineer. He died in London in 1950, 9 years before Douglas was born, I am not making this up. Perhaps we should hire both rooms for an Auckland party sometime to celebrate both Douglas-es?

The entries for others with the same name include an agricultural researcher, an American playwright, an experienced graduate architect with a passion for narrative design approaches, a commercial cleaner, a professor of medicine at Harvard specialising in Anaestheology and Perioperative Medicine. and a senior lecturer in Actuarial Science and Business Management in London. Perhaps the strangest of all is a 2009 listing in The Times of India ‘Douglas Wright, New Zealand dancer—a surprise seminar for teachers’ (I think the surprise would have been Douglas’), and the linked profile of someone appointed chief judge of a forthcoming Bollywood dance competition.

‘Enough’ I hear you cry. But the best of it is that Douglas would have been quite pleased to be listed alongside these illustrious others, since there’s a little bit of each of them in him, and the themes in his many works covered or referenced each of their callings, well, most of them.

Thanks to the kindness of Megan Adams, fastidious executor of Douglas’ choreographic legacy, we were able to watch video of The Kiss Inside, the last of his full-length works, made in 2015. Recognisable in it are many motifs referencing others of his choreographies so in a sense he is archiving himself as he goes,.

All the cast are knockouts—but Sarah-Jayne Howard, Craig Bary and Luke Hanna, all graduates of New Zealand School of Dance, were just as astonishing as we remember them eight years ago. The film is archival quality only, since there would not have been budget to make that broadcast quality. Here’s where the value of dance reviews come in—after the viewing we read Bernadette Rae’s very fine review from NZ Herald (it’s on line), and my own review at this link. You could also treat yourself to the astonishing photographs by Pippa Samaya of the work. (Two images from Pippa Samaya’s exceptional work are below.)

Sarah-Jayne Howard in two moments from The Kiss Inside, 2015. Photos: © Pippa Samaya

Leanne Pooley’s documentary, Haunting Douglas, (the word is verb, noun and adjective) is a fine record of Douglas’ life and work to 2003, when it was released. It’s up to us to remember the works made after that date. Black Milk, fortunately for us, is documented by Douglas in his book Terra Incognito, and also in the superb collection of photographs from the work, by the same name in a handsome edition by Potton Burton publishers.

Tessa Ayling-Guhl was smitten by seeing Black Milk as a youngster. Years later, when studying photography in Berlin, she was driven to request of Douglas that she might photograph him. He eventually agreed, and danced for her in the garden of his Mt Roskill home in 2015, the same year The Kiss Inside was made. The resulting images capture his body and his spirit. A set of these photographs were exhibited, as Geist Dance, in Hunters & Collectors shop gallery in Cuba Street, owned by Chrissie O, long-time friend of Douglas from the years before he became a dancer. Tessa’s photographs were again exhibited at The Long Hall so we felt Douglas’ presence at the gathering. We are inviting koha towards the purchase of one of the images for permanent display.

Robert Oliver (viola da gamba) Noelle Dannenbring (piano) and Lucas (violin) made special music, David Long and Prue (mother of Lisa) Densem spoke tributes, and messages were read from Roger Steele, Patricia Rianne, Raewyn Hill, Taiaroa Royal and Sean Macdonald.

It has been an easy decision that we should mark every 14 October from now on with a gathering to explore different aspects of Douglas’ choreographic legacy. We’ll call it Many Happy Returns, Douglas. Please save the date.

Jennifer Shennan, 17 October 2023

Featured image (detail): Douglas Wright, 2015. Photo: © Tessa Ayling-Guhl

Platinum. Royal New Zealand Ballet

13 October 2023. St. James Theatre, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Platinum is a dense, malleable, ductile, highly unreactive, precious, silverish-white transition metal. It has remarkable resistance to corrosion, even at high temperatures, and is therefore considered a noble metal. It is the traditional gift used to mark the 70 year anniversary of a relationship.

That makes Platinum a well-chosen title for this single performance in the Company’s home theatre of St. James, Wellington. The 70 year legacy of this intrepid little troupe of dancers reaches back to the legendary Poul Gnatt, and equally heroic Russell Kerr and Jon Trimmer, among many others. That mantle now falls on younger shoulders to maintain the morale, health and welfare of the dancers, as of us all, for the next 70 years.

The program comprised four group works, six pas de deux and two solos, each of which will have been somebody’s favourite.

The opening work, Te Ao Mārama, by Moss Patterson, on his whakapapa (lineage), seen in the Company’s recent Lightscapes program, maintains its integrity in a strong haka taparahi performance by the all-male cast. Later in the program an all-female cast performed Stand To Reason, Andrea Shermoly’s impressive tribute, as strong as any haka, to the Suffragette pioneers. Two male solos, Val Caniparoli’s Aria, a striking work to Handel, and Mark Baldwin’s Nobody Takes Me Seriously to the rhythmically lively song by Split Enz, were both stylishly performed.

(left) Joshua Douglas (a student at New Zealand School of Dance) in *Aria*; (right) Shaun James Kelly in *Nobody Takes Me Seriously*. *Platinum*, Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2023. Photos: © Stephen A’Court

There is real challenge for a pas de deux to capture the style and context of its full-length parent work, though the Don Quixote and Black Swan items did achieve this admirably. We saw Mayu Tanigaito in both, shining as a dancer of highest calibre, her fabulous technique always serving interpretation, never the other way around.

Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis *Black Swan*. *Platinum*, Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Sara Garbowski in the Act 2 excerpt from Giselle gave an exquisitely poetic performance with beautifully judged dynamics and phrasing of movement. This was from the celebrated production by Ethan Stiefel and Johan Kobborg in 2012, followed by the outstanding feature film directed by Toa Fraser—the best film the Company has ever produced of its repertoire. It’s worth noting that the recording here was by Orchestra Wellington conducted by Michael Lloyd, so the music’s calibre for dancing was guaranteed.

I will confess my concern at the poor amplification of the music accompaniment for several of the other items, however. Does the St. James Theatre need to invest in installation of a better quality sound system?

Unusually, none of the items carried a staging credit. The Bournonville works, Flower Festival in Genzano and La Sylphide, were challenged to capture the distinctive technique and vivacious style of the Danish heritage that this company inherited from Poul Gnatt all those decades ago.

Laurynas Véjalis (left) and Kirby Selchow in moments from *La Sylphide*. *Platinum*, Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2023. Photos: © Stephen A’Court

The final work, for full company, was a premiere—Prismatic, choreographed by Shaun James Kelly, a tribute to the Company’s landmark work, Prismatic Variations, made by Russell Kerr and Poul Gnatt in 1959. There was an attractive energy, personality and enthusiasm from this cast, with a spirited final image of a dancer poised aloft high above all the group, suggesting airborne hope. It was in considerable contrast to the original choreography, five couples in a work of abstract, astringent and timeless classicism, echoing the geometric design of backcloth by Raymond Boyce.

The music—Brahm’s Variations on Haydn’s St Anthony Chorale—always seemed to flood the auditorium with joy and elation. Here in a recording by the Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by Herbert von Karajan, you would expect no less, but again the theatre’s amplification seemed unable to offer the exhilaration we remember as an intrinsic part of the choreography.

It seemed a missed moment not to have brought on stage the incoming Artistic Director, Ty King-Wall, and the new Executive Director, Tobias Perkins, so we could welcome them—and also thank the outgoing Interim Artistic Director, David McAllister, for having stabilised the Company during its transition year.

Roses are the traditional flowers to mark 70 years and even one bouquet would have brought a sense of occasion and celebration to the stage full of talent. Instead, I came home and picked at midnight the single rose left in my windswept garden to place in a vase, as gratitude for seven decades of dancers who always gave and give their all.

Three talisman photos grace the printed program—Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis in Black Swan pas de deux; Patricia Rianne and Jon Trimmer in the 1978 production of The Sleeping Beauty; Russell Kerr and June Kerr in Prismatic Variations, 1960. Roses to them all.

Jennifer Shennan, 15 October 2023

Featured image: Scene from Shaun James Kelly’s Prismatic. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Yummy. The Chaos Project, QL2 Dance

13 October 2023. Canberra College Theatre

This review is a slightly expanded version of one that appeared in CBR City News, digital edition, 14 October 2023. The review published there is at this link.

Change is in the air at QL2 Dance, Canberra’s esteemed youth dance organisation. This year’s Chaos Project, an annual event bringing together dancers of various levels of experience, was largely managed by Alice Lee Holland. Holland is currently Associate Artistic Director at QL2 Dance and will take over as Artistic Director in 2024 when longstanding Director Ruth Osborne retires from the role, a position she has held since 1999.

Chaos 2023, produced by Emma Batchelor, had the overarching title of Yummy. It looked at five tastes that we all, or most of us, have experienced in our lives: salt, umami, bitter, acetic and sweet, with each taste represented by a separate segment created by a different choreographer. On the surface it seemed a conceptually difficult topic for dance. How does one dance bitter? Or acetic? But what seemed like a problem was nicely solved with a voice-over, spoken by Liz Lea, that introduced each taste.

Umami, choreographed by Holland, had an interesting spoken introduction that explained the origins of the term and its Japanese origins. But the most engrossing of these spoken sections was that for Acetic. It was highly technical in content and often scarcely understandable to a non-scientific ear. But, when the dancing began, the concept was clearly visible in the movement envisioned by choreographer Patricia Hayes Kavanagh, with the dancers giving their impressions of tasting an acidic item.

Scene from *Acetic* in *Yummy*. The Chaos Project QL2 Dance, 2023. Photo: © Lorna Sim

From the point of view of dance technique, the strongest section was Bitter choreographed by Ruth Osborne and performed by eight senior dancers. The use of the stage space was beautifully handled with at times small groups of dancers taking a prominent place, while at others all eight dancers spread across the space, dancing individually.

Scene from *Bitter* in *Yummy*. The Chaos Project QL2 Dance, 2023. Photo: © Lorna Sim

But every section had its high points from the very young dancers who made up most of the cast for A Pinch of Salt choreographed by Olivia Wikner, to the mixed-age group dressed variously in pinkish hues who occasionally drifted off to sleep from an overdose of sugar in Sweet choreographed by Jason Pearce. Sweet had a number of highlights including the sudden appearance of bright pink concentric circles of light that briefly transformed the stage floor (lighting design was by Alice Lee Holland and the choreographers). It also had engaging choreography that often highlighted younger dancers being lifted in various ways by older performers. With A Pinch of Salt I especially enjoyed those moments when a dancer stepped forward to tell us an important fact about salt!

Scene from *Sweet* in *Yummy*. The Chaos Project QL2 Dance, 2023. Photo: © Lorna Sim

But what of changes in the air? Musically Yummy sounded quite different from previous Chaos events. The diverse selection of music ranged from Vivaldi as recomposed by Max Richter to a selection from the avant-folk group, pigbaby. I also enjoyed the change from one segment to another, which was different on each occasion and included some unexpected moments when Acetic transitioned to Sweet. To my surprise, sugary dancers entered and physically removed acidy dancers from the stage. One such moment even drew a laugh (of surprise and pleasure) when a dancer ran quickly from one side of the stage towards the other and in a flash, almost as he reached the wings, picked up a young dancer, lifted him high into the air and carried him into the wings.

Aspects of the curtain calls were also somewhat new. For the closing moments, all the dancers were costumed alike rather than in the costumes worn for individual segments—costume coordination was by Natalie Wade. There was no issue at all when the dancers came forward in groups to take their bows— recognition of who had appeared in what was instantaneous. That must say something about the standard of the performance!

The Chaos Project has been a longstanding aspect of the QL2 Dance program. It looks set to continue as an event to enjoy as Alice Lee Holland begins her transition from Associate Artistic Director to the leader of QL2 Dance.

Michelle Potter, 14 October 2023

Swan Lake. The Australian Ballet (2023)

Digital screening, September–October (filmed on 29 September 2023 during the Melbourne season of Swan Lake)

I am not a huge fan of this latest production of Swan Lake from the Australian Ballet—a version directed by artistic director David Hallberg but based on the 1970s production by Anne Woolliams with dramaturgy and a little extra choreography from Lucas Jervies.

On a positive note, the corps de ballet of 26 swans danced as a group with exceptional precision. Whether they were making and holding a line, a circle, a V-shape as in the opening to Act IV, or any other shape for that matter, their groupings were beautifully precise. And their dancing was in unison to the extent that, for example, they usually managed to lift their legs in arabesque to the same height as each other, and execute other steps with amazing togetherness. The four little swans—Evie Ferris, Jill Ogai, Aya Watanabe and Yuumi Yamada—stood out with regard to this unison and precision. It was pure perfection.

Then there were the costumes by Mara Blumenfeld. They were exceptional in design, colour and cut. I especially admired the costumes for the character dances, and the very elegant black and white striped suit worn by von Rothbart in ACT III, befitting a Baron I thought.

But that’s about all the positivity I can muster.

I found the production quite lacking in emotional content. While in his between-acts spiel on this streaming platform Hallberg made much of the partnership between Benedicte Bemet as Odette/Odile and Joseph Caley as Prince Siegfried, and while technically they danced well both separately and together, I could not feel or see any passion, or even affection, between them. And there was certainly no changing emotion visible as the situation between them changed. Ballet is a wordless art but when there is a narrative, as there definitely is in Swan Lake, the story has to be clear and prominent enough in a physical sense for the audience to see and understand the narrative, even if, as in the case of Swan Lake, so many of us have seen it so many times that we have a clear idea already about the storyline. Clarity of narrative and the changing of emotions can be achieved by a simple movement of the head, a lift of the arm that is different from what went before, or something quite simple. But it has to be a physical change that we as the audience can notice and feel, not just a thought in the dancer’s head.

Then I was taken aback by the character dances in Act III. There were three (one each from Spain, Hungary and Italy) rather than the more usual four and they were danced largely without any of the passion that characterises national dancing. Everything seemed to be angled towards a perfect, balletic technique—mostly with the frame of the body held erect and little expression in a physical sense or even through facial expression. Character dances are full of physical expression and theatricality growing from a pride by the characters (as played by the dancers) in a particular heritage.

Perhaps my dislike of this Swan Lake reflects a remark made by Lucas Jervies when speaking to Hallberg and Livinia Nixon in the conversations between acts as part of the streaming. Jervies mentioned that Hallberg asked for the production to be ‘boiled down and refined’, and Hallberg confirmed that this was his aim. The ‘boiling down’ just took everything away. A strong (refined?) focus on technique and little else doesn’t make a theatrical production. At least not for me.

I have a subscription ticket to see this Swan Lake in Sydney towards the end of the season there. Perhaps I will feel differently then?

Michelle Potter, 2 October 2023