Don Quixote. The Australian Ballet (2023)

This post contains two reviews of the 2023 Don Quixote. The first and longer one is of the digital screening; the second, shorter one refers, with particular reference to one dancer, to a matinee performance I saw in Sydney towards the end of the season.

Digital screening, March 2023. (Filmed live on 24 March 2023, Arts Centre, Melbourne)

This production of Don Quixote is meant to pay homage to the 1973 Australian Ballet film of the work and, in fact, has been spoken of as being ‘transposed from screen to stage’, especially with regard to the set. The early film production was choreographed by Rudolf Nureyev and was directed by Nureyev in conjunction with Robert Helpmann. Helpmann played the role of the Don, Nureyev was Basilio and Lucette Aldous danced Kitri/Dulcinea. To tell the truth I’m not sure why the ‘screen to stage’ comment was necessary as the ballet stands by itself without any pretence that it is a transposition. The 1970s film is, however, worth watching, especially now that it has been restored and remastered in high definition. It contains some exceptional performances, especially from Lucette Aldous whose performance in my opinion outshines that of Nureyev.

But to the production of 2023. I found this staging beautifully paced and full of action from every performer. Ako Kondo and Chengwu Guo as the leading characters were just brilliant, both technically and in terms of the emotional and dramatic relationship they built up between them. They also dance so well as partners with bodies and limbs moving smoothly together and with complementary line through the two bodies always obvious. Then there were those amazing moments when Guo lifted Kondo into the air and held her there with one hand (as seen in the featured image). The music paused momentarily for us to have a good look! Spectacular.

Ako Kondo and Chengwu Guo in *Don Quixote* Act I. The Australian Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Rainee Lantry

Adam Bull was an impressive Don Quixote. He had worked on a particular portrayal of the Don and maintained the behaviour of his character from beginning to end. He was eccentric but introspective and contemplative, and I got the feeling he was lost in another world, a world where windmills can be monsters and dreams can become reality in his mind. What I liked was that his character was strong but without any overplay.

Adam Bull as Don Quixote in *Don Quixote*, Prologue. The Australian Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Rainee Lantry

Amy Harris as the Street Dancer performed nicely but I would have liked a little more colour in her characterisation. Sharni Spencer as the Queen of the Dryads managed her difficult variation skilfully and Yuumi Yamada was a charming Cupid. A highlight of the last act (apart from the grand pas de deux from Kondo and Guo) was an exciting Fandango danced by sixteen, magnificently dressed dancers led by Dana Stephensen and Nathan Brook.

Ludwig Minkus’ score was played by Orchestra Victoria conducted by Charles Barker, who was, I am assuming, visiting from New York. As with other conductors whom I admire, Barker ensured that the music and the dance worked beautifully as one. Then, as part of the curtain calls the dancers moved forward and, with a simple sweep of the arm, acknowledged the orchestra. It was a perfect, dancerly, elegant acknowledgement rather than the lengthy clapping by the dancers leaning towards, almost into, the pit that we have had to get used to over the past 20 years or so from the Australian Ballet.

The streaming also featured David Hallberg and Catherine Murphy discussing various aspects of the production with some segments featuring various artists associated with the production, including backstage staff.

Michelle Potter, 28 March 2023

22 April 2023 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Apart from the fact that there is ‘nothing like being there’ as the saying goes, most of my comments above from watching the streamed version of the Australian Ballet’s 2023 Don Quixote apply equally to the live performance I saw towards the end of the company’s Sydney season. The Australian Ballet is, in general, dancing beautifully, even stunningly at the moment. Apart from the technical standard being high, there seems to be an inherent joy emanating from the dancers. And what’s more I don’t feel the need to complain about the production looking squashed on the Sydney Opera House stage. For some reason (perhaps the joy mentioned above?), instead of looking squashed the production looked intimate. What a thrill!

But the highlight of the afternoon came from Yuumi Yamada dancing the leading female role of Kitri/Dulcinea. She isn’t a tall dancer, but then nor was Lucette Aldous in the Nureyev/Helpmann film made in 1972. As Kitri/Dulcinea Aldous gave Nureyev a run for his money. Yamada was, similarly, a deliciously feisty Kitri in Act I and was outstanding technically throughout. It was a performance that I feel privileged to have seen. Yamada was partnered by Brett Chynoweth as Basilio.

I also admired the dancing of Lilly Maskery as Cupid in Act II. She has a good presence onstage and gave the role a characterisation that attracted the eye, as well as dancing strongly. I look forward to seeing more of her work.

Unfortunately, I have no images of the cast from this matinee performance.

Michelle Potter, 25 April 2023

Featured image: Ako Kondo and Chengwu Guo in Don Quixote, ACT I. The Australian Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Rainee Lantry

Scored in Silence. Chisato Minamimura

11 March 2023. Spiegeltent, Aotea Square, Te Ahurei Toi o Tāmaki/Auckland Arts Festival
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This hour-long film screening had the creator and solo performer, Chisato Minamimura, present in the audience. It was followed by a discussion and q&a session with her, led by Shona McCullagh, artistic director of Auckland Arts Festival.

The film is poignant and moving in the extreme as it documents the experiences of deaf people who suffered yet somehow survived the bombing of Hiroshima in August 1945. You have to marvel at the message, be horrified at the scale of destruction, and wonder how you’ve never heard of ‘The Frank Report’ before. (That was a report submitted to the Truman government by a group of American scientists aghast at the planned bombing, and begging that the civilian population in Hiroshima be given advance warning to evacuate. Of course, the report was ignored and 140,000 people died. At Nagasaki, 70,000 died).

Minamimura, herself profoundly deaf, has an impressive record of dance training (Laban Trinity in London), and of creating and directing (she is a Work Place artist at The Place, London). The film uses signing, subtitles, Holo-Gauze (a projection material creating 3D holographic illusion), as well as sequences of Visual Vernacular, a more personalised mime-like dance-like form of expression. Post-war Japan included a program of compulsory sterilisation of deaf women in the attempt to eliminate ‘the deaf gene.’ Who knew?

The following discussion included an extremely competent signer and translator (from Platform Interpreting NZ) so the sizeable numbers of deaf community present in the audience could follow every syllable. In addition, from the program note: ‘At the heart of the show is cutting edge visual and vibration technology: Woojer straps worn by audience members offer a tactie vibrotactility of the haunting sound composition.’ Minamimura herself wears such a belt during the performance. How else would she know where she is up to in the music?

If the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not precisely in retaliation for Pearl Harbour, they were certainly part of the same hellbent war, and some say terrorism weighed in ahead of military strategy. Was Dresden bombed into annihilation in retaliation for the destruction of Warsaw where ‘not a brick must stay upon a brick?’ Nobody wins a war altogether, it’s just endless revenge that only stops when one side surrenders, or someone presses a button. Numerous countries now hold nuclear weapons. Think about that.

Scored in Silence was altogether an astonishing work, revealing what the deaf community have long told us—that 75% of human communication is non-verbal. Think about that.

*Scored in Silence* with performer Chisato Minamimura. Auckland Arts Festival, 2023. Photo: © Mark Pickthall

This was another tight and terrific show in Te Ahurei Toi O Tāmaki/Auckland Arts Festival. We were invited afterwards to place a hand and goodwill on the mauri stone, specially carved for the Festival by Ngāti Whātua, placed on a plinth in the Spiegeltent. Think about that.

Jennifer Shennan, 12 March 2023

Featured image: Scored in Silence with performer Chisato Minamimura. Auckland Arts Festival, 2023. Photo: © Mark Pickthall

Ascent. Sydney Dance Company

My review of the premiere of Ascent, the latest triple bill program from Sydney Dance Company, has been posted on Dance Australia. See this link.

Two of the three items in the program were world premieres. The third, Antony Hamilton’s Forever & Ever, was first staged by Sydney Dance Company in 2018. One of the most interesting features of Ascent was in fact seeing Forever & Ever once more. When I reviewed it earlier on this website—see this link—it was the extraordinary costuming that stood out for me. Seeing the work again I was prepared for the costumes, and the way they changed and changed over the course of the work. So this time there were other things to look into, in particular the pounding score by Julian Hamilton, and the remarkable choreography, especially that for the closing scene and how well it reflected that score (and vice versa).

Below are images from Rafael Bonachela’s I Am-ness, which opened the program, and from Marina Mascarell’s The Shell, a Ghost, the Host and a Lyrebird, which was the middle work. They complement the images available on the Dance Australia page.

Scene from Rafael Bonachela’s *I Am-Ness*. Sydney Dance Company, 2023. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Scene from Marina Mascarell’s *The Shell, a Ghost, the Host and a Lyrebird*. Sydney Dance Company, 2023. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Michelle Potter, 13 March 2023

Featured image: Jesse Scales meets a fellow dancer in Antony Hamilton’s Forever & Ever. Sydney Dance Company, 2023. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Revisor. Crystal Pite and Jonathon Young

9 March 2023. Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre, Aotea Centre. Te Ahurei Toi o Tamaki/Auckland Arts Festival,
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Revisor is created and directed by Crystal Pite and Jonathon Young, both highly original and hugely prolific theatre makers, movers and shakers, of Canadian provenance but now widely internationally acclaimed. The work is a knock-out tour-de-force of theatre, developed from Revizor, aka The Inspector General, the work of Russian playwright Gogol, which premiered in St. Petersburg in 1836.

The story goes that the five-act play was performed before the Czar who laughed and applauded throughout, not realising the play was satirical farce, ‘a comedy in disguise’. The Czar claimed to have ‘got it’, though one might add ‘in the neck’—it’s just that it took decades of Russian history for that to (continue to) reach dénouement. The play deals with themes of ambition for power, of greed and bribery, confidential lies and cover-ups that echo with painful relevance in many times, then and now, and places, there and here.

There’s a finely chiselled program essay from which I quote …

Since the 1830s, the play has been translated and adapted countless times. We approached the original text as a matrix for both voice and body, and found it to be malleable and resonant. Our quest has been to locate and portray a glimpse of the soul within this most unlikely frame: a well-worn farce about corruption and deceit.

Underneath the superficial subject of mistaken identity there were of course deeper subjects such as deceit, tyranny, greed and corruption; willful blindness and complicity; bureaucracy and officialdom; human suffering; the coming storm; the promise of change; imminent overthrow; salvation on the horizon; retribution at the corner; justice at the gate.

Ambitious incompetent individuals manipulate and bribe the bureaucracy while working their way into positions of political power and authority. Corruption, duplicity and control of propaganda are found at every turn, at every crossroad. Sound familiar? —think Putin and his treatment of Navalny, think Ceaucescu and wife, think Trump and Murdoch, think North Korea, think mediocre and ambitious bureaucrats everywhere. Think of all those who believe they live in a democracy which in truth is just rampant consumerism. It’s a long list.

Those who won’t go to the Ballet (capital B) because they ‘can’t hear the words’ would have ‘got’ this show because the playscript is pre-recorded and functions as the ‘music’ to which the ‘dance’ is performed. You know where you are because you ‘can hear the words’. The trouble is the script is deliberately riddled with clichés and double-entendres, lies, interrupted sentences and contradictions, so you actually haven’t a clue where you are—nor have the players—and therein lies the plot. The Inspector General is not actually The Inspector General, though some don’t know that, and those who do know are paid to shut up about it.

Pite and Young share their directors’ vision for the work so that boundaries between playscript, stage directions, deportment, gesture, mime, dance, plié and pause, gait and gavotte are seamlessly blurred throughout the 90 minute performance. The eight dancers make multiple entries and exits with superb timing and great aplomb, always using impeccable technique to serve the expressive needs of the dramatic action. [How refreshing to be spared the all too frequent conventions of balletic virtuosity that dancers are often required to display, thereby drowning out storyline and musical aesthetic. These are enormously skilled dancers but you won’t be seeing them in The Nutcracker any time soon.]

Renée Sigouin, Cindy Salgado, Rena Narumi, Tiffany Tregarthen, Matthew Peacock, Jermaine Spivey, David Raymond, and Doug Letheren in a scene from *Revisor*. Photo: © Michael Slobodian

Individual performers are all outstanding but Gregory Lau as the Revisor, and Rakeem Hardy as Postmaster Wieland deserve singular mention. A number of sculptured group sequences are testament to how well these players know each other’s work so can all move together as one. An enigmatic figure wearing deer antlers plays several ritualised prayerlike sequences with mystical effect. The lighting concept and design make breathtakingly beautiful imagery, ephemeral backlit smoke patterns that point to the enduring questions echoed in the script …’Why am I here? What does it mean?’

(left) A scene from *Revisor*. Photo: © Jinki Cambronero; (right) David Raymond in a scene from *Revisor*. Photo: © Michael Slobodian

Any dance educators who think ballet (lower case b) might not be ‘relevant to audiences within the changing demographic’ would do well to take their students to such a production as Revisor. The relevance of the choreography could not be more present or obvious. So why were there so many empty seats, or any empty seats at all? The audience barely breathed throughout the entire performance, stunned at the tight skills they were witnessing, and come the curtain call couldn’t wait to get to their feet for a prolonged standing ovation which carried a sense of appreciative urgency.

Auckland Arts Festival managed a coup in booking this act, following several years of its international touring. Those who saw Revisor here have witnessed the final season of the work. You should remember it, keep the program (a free handout—top marks again to the Festival), make notes, tell your grandchildren what you saw.

Jennifer Shennan, 12 March 2023

KING. Shaun Parker & Company

4 March 2023. Everest Theatre, Seymour Centre, Sydney (in association with Sydney WorldPride Arts)

KING begins with Bulgarian singer/songwriter Ivo Dimchev walking down an aisle of the auditorium and taking his place onstage in front of the still-lowered front curtain. With a keyboard in hand he starts singing in his mesmerising voice, at times as a bass, at others as a counter-tenor. As his song ends, the curtain rises to reveal a combination set—a jungle of green growth and a mini cabaret setting represented by a chandelier. Against this background stands an all-male cast of ten dancers dressed formally in black-tie dinner suits. They are ready to dance.

The early choreography was fast-paced and extremely acrobatic, almost circus-style with overtones of street dancing. It was also quite formalised with group shapes appearing and disappearing and hands and arms forming group patterns, sometimes still and picture perfect, sometimes in motion. It’s transfixing to watch and seems to say, ‘Look, this is how men can be and behave, and how we can connect with each other. We have power’

Scene from *KING* (Ivo Dimchev in the background), 2023. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But slowly individual contacts were made amongst the group, many with obvious sexual overtones. The dancers then removed their coats, ties and shirts and began a different kind of connection with each other. The way that identity and power showed themselves in the opening scenes was slowly changing into a kind of aggression and anger, and perhaps also resentment of a kind. Dimchev continued to sing and provoke the performers.

Scene from *KING*, 2023. Photo: © Prudence Upton

Choreographically there were changes too. The men started to look progressively more animal-like, less than human at times. There were even moments when the Faun from Vaslav Nijinsky’s Afternoon of a Faun flashed across my mind. Toby Derrick and Joel Fenton, as the two main protagonists, held one’s attention. Derrick by this stage was completely nude and Fenton, who was seen as too close to Derrick for the liking of the others, were set upon until both ended up on the floor, motionless and covered with leaves from the jungle. Slowly darkness brought the show to an end.

I was interested in the audience reaction as the work unfolded. In the beginning, as we watched moments that were sometimes playful, sometimes with sexual overtones, often spectacularly physical, and often showing a certain strength in uniformity, there were chuckles of pleasure from the audience as they sat back and watched in a relaxed manner. But as the connections between the dancers began to unravel somewhat, and become more aggressive, there was silence and many of the audience leaned forward in their seats wondering (perhaps anxiously) what was going to happen next. Were they surprised? Were they expecting what occurred or not?

When I spoke to Shaun Parker earlier this year he told me that KING was about ‘a different way of thinking about sexual identity and power and how they are linked.’ KING was not by any means a hagiography of the male sex, that is there was no undue reverence to, or idolising of the male. But then perhaps nor was there any suggestion of denunciation or disapproval of the changes that slowly took place. It seems to me that Parker was presenting us with a possible view of male identity and power rather than implying any positive or negative judgement.

This was an engrossing show from Shaun Parker & Company in terms of its choreography, its performance by all ten dancers, its musical background and input from Dimchev, and its visual elements.

Michelle Potter, 5 March 2023