Coming in April from the Australian Ballet is a production of Carmen by Swedish choreographer Johan Inger. Recent discussions about the background to the work, which was first created in Madrid in 2015, always mention the appearance of a child as a character in the work. One British reviewer has written that the child ‘represents the wider fall out of abuse’. This Carmen, apparently, is dramatically sexual and has a focus on violence towards women. It is described by the same reviewer as ‘uncomfortable to watch’, although she admits that those words are not a reason to stay away from the show!
The work is set to Rodion Shchedrin’s 1967 Carmen Suite, an adaptation of Georges Bizet’s score for the opera Carmen. The Shchedrin score is also frequently mentioned in reviews, especially for its use of percussion instruments. But what especially struck home to me was that Shchedrin’s wife was the acclaimed ballerina Maya Plisetskaya. The score was written for her when she was preparing to dance a version of Carmen choreographed for her (at her request) by Alberto Alonso. The story of the creation of the score appears as a whole chapter in I, Maya Plisetskaya, Plisetskaya’s autobiography published in 2001 by Yale University Press.
It is worth noting too that the same score was used by Natalie Weir for her exceptional work Carmen Sweet, made in 2015 for her Brisbane-based Expressions Dance Company (now no longer in existence).
In the brief clip below, Inger talks about his Carmen, while behind him a rehearsal for a section of the production takes place in London. In addition to Inger’s words, the clip is interesting from the point of view of the choreography, which is classically based to a certain extent, but which has a powerful contemporary feel/look to it. Some dancers from the Australian Ballet also appear in the rehearsal, which was basically for English National Ballet’s performances, which began in February 2024 at Sadler’s Wells.
The Australian Ballet’s production of Inger’s Carmen plays in Sydney 10–24 April.
On dramaturgy
I recently received a private comment on my review for Canberra City News of Catapult’s show Awkward. The comment included the suggestion that the show might have been stronger had a dramaturg been employed to develop a more focused approach. Well, I couldn’t agree more. Even if a dramaturg might not always do a stellar job (as was also suggested in the comment), it’s worth making the effort. One of the most remarkable shows I have seen over the past several years has been Liz Lea’s production, RED. Lea employed Brian Lucas as dramaturg for the show and, while the content of RED was highly complex, it ended up being a brilliantly focused production.
A slightly expanded version of my City News review of Awkward is at this link.
Press for March 2024
‘Awkward performance dances on too long.’ City News (Canberra), 28 March 2024. Online at this link.
The paper below was meant to be given as a talk as part of the 2024 Russell Kerr Lecture series, which took place in Wellington on 25 February 2024. I had a misadventure with the plane that took me to Wellington (which ended up in Auckland) and in the end did not get to Wellington to deliver the talk in person. Here is a slightly altered version of what I planned to say.
Unlike many of you here I was not a close friend of, or fellow performer with Jon Trimmer. My connection came as a result of a book I was researching about designer Kristian Fredrikson, who was a New Zealander by birth and who designed a number of works for Royal New Zealand Ballet and other New Zealand-based companies. Kristian, of course, came into contact with Jonty over and over. I first met Jonty in 2018 and spent a remarkable hour or so drinking coffee and listening to his recollections of Kristian. (And I should add here that I am calling him Jonty because he said I could when we met.)
My talk today will focus on a few of the productions that Kristian designed and in which Jonty appeared. Given the short amount of time I have, it will only be a few I’m afraid. First up is Peter Pan, a work choreographed by none other than Russell Kerr. It premiered in 1999 and Jonty had the role of Captain Hook. The image below is a special study made by Kristian for Marjorie Head. Marjorie was an admired Australian milliner and worked closely with Kristian for many, many years. He made a number of special designs for her as gifts for various occasions and six of them are now in the collection of the National Library in Canberra. What you see is one of them.
Below are two action shots from a performance of Peter Pan. Jonty loved this role and during our conversation said the words you see on the left hand side of the image, ‘I adored it. I had lovely shoes with nice heels and big bows at the front. It was cabaret style stuff. If I could still do it I’d love to be in it again.’ (Jon Trimmer, 2018)
But what is clear in these two photographs is how strongly he entered into a role. You can see it in his body, whether he is leaning forward or throwing his arms upwards. Each expresses a different emotion through his body and, of course, in his facial expression.
Below are two more performance shots from Peter Pan and the same may be said of them. The slightly concerned look on his face on the left-hand image contrasts with the pirately involvement we see in the right-hand image. Oh, those eyes! And that mouth! You can read what Jonty said of his costume on the slide or here, ‘My Captain Hook jacket was so heavy. I had a lot of running around to do and after the first tour Kristian put together a lighter jacket. It looked the same but was just made out of lighter fabric.’ (Jon Trimmer, 2018)
***************************************
I’m moving on now to A Servant of Two Masters, a ballet choreographed by Gray Veredon based on a play of the same name by 18th century Venetian playwright Carlo Goldoni.
Jonty, whom you see on the right of the image, played the rich merchant Pantalone. This particular slide shows something of the set design and I found researching the set design quite interesting. No time here to go into it, other than to present what Cathy Goss, who danced in various roles in the show, had to say, ‘I remember the silks and I think we all had a love/hate relationship with them! There were quite complex sequences to get right each night and a fair bit of sitting holding them as they basically created the set at times.’ (Catherine Goss, 2018)
And above we see Jonty with Harry Haythorne as Dr Lombardi engaging in a somewhat dramatic moment. And notice the rather taken aback look on Jonty’s face and his curved body as he attempts to manage the somewhat dominant Lombardi. You can read what Jonty says about the costume in the text on the screen, and here, ‘I had long-johns on, bright red, quite tight, and a lovely jacket in multi colours. Harry had black long-johns, slightly baggier, and a long red and white striped scarf.’ (Jon Trimmer, 2018).
And just as an aside, I found on Wikipedia the small image at the corner of the slide. The image is from Frenchman Maurice Sand and shows Pantalone as he appeared as an Italian commedia dell arte figure. So, the red that Jonty talks about is clearly looking back to the original Pantalone.
*****************************************
So, I’m moving on now to Tell me a Tale, Gray Veredon’s work of 1989 in which Jonty played the Teller of Tales.
I was fascinated when I discovered the design you see on the screen – a very Australian coat, a Driza-Bone to give it its name, and Jonty refers the Teller of Tales as ‘A really outback character.’ I’m not sure if outback is also a New Zealand expression but it is very Australian referring to the land beyond the cities and the regional town areas. But if I had looked closely at the design, I would have perhaps noticed that there was a decorative element on the hat. Andrew Pfeiffer mentioned it in a talk I had with him in 2012. He said, ‘Jon was dressed in a Driza-Bone with a bit of silver fern wrapped through his hat and that emblem printed all over the top of his Driza-Bone.’ (Andrew Pfeiffer, 2012)
Andrew also summarised the story in a few words saying, ‘It was basically a storyteller telling a young boy the story of New Zealand in terms of the relationships between the Māori people and the colonists. Jonty was often just standing there with a young boy sitting at his feet. He was miming to the boy throughout the ballet with the ballet taking place on the side.’ (Andrew Pfeiffer, 2012)
And Gray tells the story of how it came to be called Tell Me a Tale.
I should add though that Gray starts by saying ‘Living there … ‘. ‘There’ refers to Katikati where he grew up.
Andrew Pfeiffer also helped me with something else, although I didn’t realise it until I was preparing this talk and I went back to the recording I had of our conversation in 2012. During my research I found a design in the National Library that was not identified. You can see it on the right of the screen. It was located in a box close to the costume designs for Tell Me a Tale and I wondered if it was a set design. In our interview, Andrew mentioned that Jonty was standing in front of some sails. So, with apologies to the photographer, I made some alterations to the image on the slide above – exposure, colour etc – and there they were, the sails. They are hard to see with the image transferred to this website but you can just make them out on the image below in the top right-hand corner.
But going back after that slight diversion, I think the main image on this slide shows Jonty again using all his body as he leans back and looks ahead at what will unfold. Elsewhere in the interview I did with Gray he says. ‘I wanted to look back to where I came from’ and I think we can definitely see that in Jonty’s posture and expression. And we can see a similar sense of seeking and searching in Kim Broad as the young boy.
****************************************
Going on now to Russell Kerr’s Swan Lake. I haven’t added a date to the heading for this slide as the work has been revived on a number of occasions. The premiere occurred in 1996 but the image I have of Jonty, as Wolfgang the tutor to Siegfried, comes from a performance in 2005. In the centre of the slide is Kristian Fredrikson’s design for Wolfgang’s costume.
And below is the full image from which the figure of Jonty in the slide above has been extracted. You can’t help but be taken aback somewhat by the magnificence of the costume for the Princess Mother of course but I love this photo of Jonty because he is the tutor, she is the Princess Mother and, while he is dressed to kill, I think you can see in his downcast eyes, his carefully folded arms and hands and his very erect posture that he knows his place in the scheme of things, and in the society in which ballet takes place.
That is all I have time for so I am back now with the first image I showed. What I set out to suggest in this talk is that Jonty did open the door for us and he kept us there with the way he performed. It was not just through his technique but also through his being able to enter into the characters he was taking on in other ways as well, through his physicality and his understanding that characterisation is enhanced by every aspect of movement.
24 March 2024. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
This dance work is choreographed by Jan Bolwell and performed by 35 members of Crows Feet Dance Collective, an ensemble of mature dancers, marking 25 years since the formation of the group in 1999.
‘Anyone can join Crows Feet—you just have to be a woman over 35. There are no auditions’ reads the program note. It’s a courageous undertaking to put trained former dancers together with others who have never performed professionally—never mind mid-30s, some are in their 70s and 80s. In today’s dance culture, which typically favours technical virtuosity and the prowess of youth, it is refreshing to see this dignified and measured yet impassioned meditation on the roles and rights of women in several parts of the world, focussing principally on Iranian and Kurdish societies.
The hour-long dance work is a vigil, a witnessing, a lament, a letter to the world. It plays against Gorecki’s Symphony of Sorrowful Songs, and incorporates text from a number of sources, including the utterly wonderful poem by Maya Angelou—A Brave and Startling Truth. There’s not meant to be a star in a show of this nature but, since her words address all of humankind, Angelou (who was herself a dancer of some note) is that star—or do I mean that Annie Ruth delivers her text with an empathy and luminous vocal quality that binds the performance together. The poem Home, by Warsan Shire, is equally memorably spoken.
Gorecki had Poland’s tragedies in mind—Angelou knew too well the violent savagery meted out to Black Americans—Shire is British-Somali—so the show’s telling of Iranian women’s struggles and resilience finds echo in many other times and places in the world. Processions resemble mediaeval basses danses, tableaux and groupings use lengths of cloth to double as hijab or the shrouded bodies of dead babies, a serpentine farandole of grief acts as a poroporoaki to farewell family and friends.
It’s sad and sobering, but finds a way to end with resilience and hope—which are words you can equally apply to Jan Bolwell herself, both in her life and her work. It’s a yes from me.
Below is a slightly expanded version of my review of Awkward published online by Canberra City News on 28 March 2024.
In just one performance in The B, a former Bicentennial Hall renovated to become a theatre space, the Newcastle-based Catapult Dance Choreographic Hub presented Awkward, a work with a focus on ‘The wit and wisdom of the socially awkward.’
In essence Awkward set out to be a multi-disciplinary work with a strong dance component but centering on a spoken narrative about an event to which six young people, unknown at first to each other, arrived to party together. Some were shy, others weren’t. Some made an effort to connect, others didn’t. A kind of compere, the seventh person in the story, explained to the arrivals how they should behave at such an event, what to do with the eyes when talking to someone new, for example. We watched as the young people slowly began to interact with each other. Sometimes the effort to interact worked, sometimes it didn’t, so there was much changing of relationships.
Interaction was most often expressed through dancing, which was performed to popular songs from around the 1980s and 1990s. The songs and the narrative were often closely connected in theme and the choreography, by Cadi McCarthy, a co-director of the Catapult company, was distinguished by some eye-catching lifts and partnering, and tumbles and turns in a grounded contemporary style. The performers, Jordan Bretherton, Cassidy Clarke, Alexandra Ford, Nicola Ford, Romain Hassanin, Remy Rochester, and Anna McCulla, all danced well and performed with strong stage presence. It was extremely frustrating, however, that. without a program or any images on show in the lobby of the theatre, it was not easy to identify which dancer was playing which role. The strongest dancer amongst the seven, at least for me, was the performer in the tartan costume in the left-front position in the featured image. Who is she? No idea. But I really enjoyed her dancing. She also appears in the image below standing across the two bars that make up part of the set.
The B provided an interesting space for the work. Two levels were used—a relatively small, raised stage became a living area on which the dancers engaged with each other, on and around several lounge chairs, while in front of the stage at ground level was the bar area and the dance floor. Steps on either side of the ground level space led up to the raised area and the dancers used both spaces equally and effectively. I wondered whether or not the Catapult group had used this kind of double performing space when performing this work in other venues? The company certainly looked very comfortable moving up and down, back and forth.
It was a shame, however, that the performance was as long as it was—it lasted around 75 minutes. After a while the choreography started to look repetitive and Awkward could have been 15 or 20 minutes shorter and saved itself from losing its power. The multi-disciplinary nature of the work was somewhat problematic too. While the ‘compere’ took a significant role in the early part of Awkward, the narrative disappeared somewhat as the work progressed and dance took over. I preferred the dance component to the narrative element, which often seemed not so much funny (although much of the audience laughed and laughed) as a little pathetic. But, more importantly, the loss, or lessening of the narrative meant that the intrinsic nature of the work as established at the beginning was lost.
Awkward began as a kind of ‘total work of art’ (Gesamtkunstwerk to use the early name for that idea). But slowly Awkward lost that quality, or the idea of totality was significantly lessened. As a result, and unfortunately the work was uneven in the way it was presented. And, again unfortunately, Awkward was too long. A shortened work and a more consistent approach would have added an ongoing strength to the work.
Michelle Potter, 28 March 2024
The version published by Canberra City News is at this link.
22 March 2024. St James Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Paradise Rumour, commissioned by Sharjah Festival in UAE (now that’s different), has toured in USA, and also performed in Auckland and Christchurch. This single performance in Wellington marks the end of its current season though further performances in Australia and the Pacific—Noumea? Suva? Honolulu? would make a lot of sense.
The Black Grace team is on top of their game—producing a printed program which contains Ieremia’s fine poem by way of libretto for the work, all the production info you need, and also folds out as a striking poster (see featured image above). It costs $3 and I shouldn’t think there’d be many copies headed for recycling any time soon.
This is dark and courageous choreography from Neil Ieremia in which he calls out the controlling power that missionaries historically claimed in 19th century Pacific, and Samoa in particular. Its message is one of resilience.
The work is strikingly staged with copious tropical vegetation on both sides of the stage, and lighting that follows sunrise through to dark night. This very effectively creates a Pacific Island locality, though be sure this is not anything to do with the Paradise of contemporary tourist attraction. Instead the work runs deep the into the complexity of interactions that missionaries historically required of their original converts, willing or otherwise, and the subsequent generations of migrants.
Paradise Rumour is layered, complex, enigmatic and elliptical, poignant and provocative. There are intriguing sculptural images of costumes or props that change before our eyes in a range of lighting variations. Quite often lately we have seen big shows where, although billed as dance, there’s a much reduced role for dancers to play as high tech audio-visuals move in to play the lead roles. Here there’s miles and miles of intrepid dancing, in fresh and unpredictable rhythms within a stunning score.
There are contrasting movement qualities among the six performers. Fuaao Tutulu Faith-Schuster, Demi-Jo Manaio, Rodney Tyrell—a lyrical woman, a female pocket rocket, a strong graceful male—are dancers who establish the emotional experiences. Three actor-musicians—Vincent Farane, Sione Fataua and Leki Jackson-Bourke—carry the story of the conflicted missionary forward. The rich soundscape by Faiumu Matthew Salapu underpins the whole show.
The dancers are running—and my, how they are running! Is that to get to somewhere or away from somewhere? The answer is yes, because they are running on the spot. Alchemy turns this dance show into powerful theatre which is more than the sum of its parts. Such qualities rank Black Grace with Bangarra Dance Theatre’s explorations of Australian indigenous experience, and that’s high praise from me.
The capacity audience left buzzing and smiling—not that the show was cheerful exactly, but because it’s about something, it’s a stunning achievement from every angle, and because its stamina is infectious. Folks on the bus home were still talking animatedly about it. That doesn’t happen often.
Jennifer Shennan, 24 March 2024
Featured image: Poster image for Paradise Rumour. Photo: Duncan Cole/Toaki Okano
