Vismaya—Amazement. Mudra Dance Company with visiting musicians

choreography Vivek Kinra
auspices of Chamber Music New Zealand
29 June 2024. Q Theatre, Auckland
30 June 2024. Meteor Theatre, Hamilton
2 July 2024. Little Theatre, Lower Hutt
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Vismaya is Sanskrit for Amazement and proved the perfect title for this highly enterprising project of Bharata Natyam, South Indian classical dance, in performances and workshops on a national tour to five centres—Auckland, Hamilton, Wellington, Nelson, Christchurch.

In an inspired move, Chamber Music New Zealand (CMNZ) invited four highly skilled Indian musicians to visit and team up with six dancers from the Wellington-based Mudra Dance Company. Vivek Kinra has directed his Bharata Natyam academy and company here since 1990, but the calibre of his work has always been international rather than merely local, so we expect to be thrilled, and we are, by this performance of enriched chamber music.

Musicians (l-r} Sri Adyar Gopinath (mridangam), Ranjani Ganesan Ramesh (vocals), Jaishri Suresh (Veena), and Tiruchy L. Saravanan (flute). Photo: © Gerry Keating

Vocalist and director of music, Ranjani Ganesan Ramesh, sings with full expressive effect, reining in the ensemble with layers of melody and arcs of harmony. Sri Adyar Gopinath is a consummate player of mridangam/drum, his hands declaiming authority then fluttering and diving like hummingbirds, in mesmerising rhythmic embellishments on the steady beat within the music. Both these artists have had long association with the renowned Kalakshetra school in Chennai where Vivek had trained for many years, so they each know the other’s art as their own, and the dancers are galvanised into brilliance as a result.

Tiruchy L. Saravanan plays flute with great skill, evoking songbirds on the wing, and his solo piece, Nagumomu, is a particular delight of flight. The deeper string tones of the veena, beautifully played by Jaishri Suresh, offer a balm and solace that seems to embrace the listener. This ensemble could have played until dawn and no-one from the audience would have left early.

As for the dancers, we saw something quite sublime. I have attended Mudra performances since 1990, including a number of arangetram, (the two-hour solo graduation recital of a pupil who has attained the required standard). Each of those seasons has carried its own high quality but never before have we witnessed such an explosion of joy and total commitment from the six dancers in this production.

All the choreography by Kinra is new, in a wonderful blend that honours tradition but weaves in many contemporary references. He stands on stage before each work to perform the gestures and motifs of the work we are about to see. These are luminous miniatures and reveal the exquisite qualities he has always brought to his stage presence. The opening Pushpanjali, offering of flowers, is followed by Shyamala Dandakam in which a mysterious Tantric goddess is portrayed, and complete rapport is established between musicians and dancers.

(left) Shrinidhi Bharadwaj and Banu Siva, (right) Shrinidhi Bharadwaj—in the varnam, Navarasa: Nine Emotions. Photos: © Gerry Keating

The major work, a varnam—Navarasa: Nine Emotions—is a tour-de-force. Each dancer has an assured technique with stunning geometric precision in arm and leg movements, intricately detailed mudra (hand gestures), beguiling facial expressions, powerful dramatic timing in sustained narratives, and the range of emotions from love and ecstasy, hope and curiosity, pride and envy, fear and loathing, to peace and serenity. Comedy is also there—for example when Siva disguises himself as an old man and makes approaches to the young devotee to test her love and loyalty. Her disgust is palpable and she passes the test.

Varshini Suresh in *Navarasa*. Photo: © Gerry Keating

There are solo passages, and other times where two dancers move at great speed but in perfect unison (harder to do than it sounds, but no effort is shown). Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Banu Siva and Varshini Suresh are hugely effective in portraying the emotions of the drama.

There is a distinctive quality to the dancers’ elevation as they anticipate on the upbeat, a leap that flies them free of gravity, to then land, of course, precisely on the beat. The effect on us is kinaesthetic—we feel we have been flying too.

In the final Thillana there is much to celebrate—glorious arcs of dancers curving and intersecting in lines across the stage, in a particularly joyous denouement of a performance that nobody wanted to end. The dancers—Varshini Suresh, Banu Siva, Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Esther McCreadie, Deepika Sundar and Rhea Homroy—will be long remembered.

Each of the performances I attended, in Auckland, Hamilton and Wellington, had appreciative audiences, but the Lower Hutt’s Little Theatre experience was a particular triumph with the audience on their feet acknowledging the performance of a lifetime.

There were workshops, open to all, offered the day before a performance, and these too were memorable and informative—for example: ‘What skin is the mridangam drumhead made of?’—’Oh, I had to replace the leather with a quality plastic for this tour because New Zealand biosecurity measures are very strict and we could not afford to have this drum impounded for a three-week fumigation. We’d have been back in India by the time it was released.’ Each musician spoke to their instrument but had to be paused after 15 minutes by Kinra, who knows that the sacred and Sanskrit history of this art has to be contained somehow, or we would all have missed the following night’s performance. It’s a considerable art in itself to compress so much into the time available, but we catch all of it. We go home through a wild Wellington storm that had hours earlier almost prevented our planes from the north from landing, but the elements, let’s call them the gods, were with us all the way.

The idea for this project was initially proposed by Rose Campbell, a former trustee of CMNZ, and has proved an exceptional achievement for everyone concerned. There have been some voices raised in complaint that CMNZ is departing from its original charter in including dance and ethnic arts in its programming. I’d have thought everything is ethnic therefore nothing is ethnic … that dance is not the opposite of music but that each art can mutually enhance and inspire the other, so entwined as to be one and the same art. Vismaya was chamber music of the highest calibre, expressed through dancing of mesmerising yet accessible quality.

Heartfelt thanks are due to those whose vision brought us this truly amazing production, to all the performers, and to Vivek Kinra who at the end of the performance thanks us all for coming. That’s the only thing he got wrong all evening. It’s we who are to thank him.

Jennifer Shennan, 4 July 2024

Featured image: Members of Mudra Dance Company (from left) Esther McCreadie, Banu Siva, Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Varshini Suresh, Deepika Sundar. Photo: © Gerry Keating

Dance diary. June 2024

Remi Wörtmeyer

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

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

For mentions of Wörtmeyer on this website see this tag.

News from Queensland Ballet

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

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

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

Isadora Duncan

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

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

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

Press for June 2024

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

Michelle Potter, 30 June 2024

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

The Dataset. Australian Dance Party

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 29 June 2024

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

Coppélia. Queensland Ballet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 26 June 2024

Momenta. Sydney Dance Company

21 June 2024. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 25 June 2024

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