Messa da Requiem. Queensland Ballet

27 March 2026. Glasshouse Theatre, Brisbane

’I don’t say we’re doing a ballet. I say we’re doing a production.’ Ivan Gil-Ortega giving his thoughts on Messa da Requiem

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Messa da Requiem was created by Giuseppe Verdi in 1874. It was, as program notes tell us, a work that ‘transforms the traditional Catholic funeral mass into a gripping human drama’. The current production, with choreography by German-born and trained artist, Christian Spuck, was Queensland Ballet’s first production for 2026 as part of its annual season of (usually) four strongly balletic productions.

Having Messa da Requiem as part of the annual season repertoire was something of an error of judgement, I thought, since for me Messa da Requiem was an operatic production with a bit of dancing added. Even the choreographer, Christian Spuck, says in his program notes, ‘The structure and the emotions are led and set by the music and singers.’ I would much prefer that such a production had been included as a special extra on the Queensland Ballet repertoire list rather than as part of the regular annual season format. This was even more of an issue since, for me, the highlight of the production was certainly not the choreography itself.

I was especially impressed with the way the artists (over 100 dancers and singers—mostly singers) were arranged onstage throughout the work. I’m not sure exactly who was responsible for the structural arrangement of bodies. Perhaps it was Spuck? Perhaps it was the stagers, of which there were three? Perhaps it was the set designer Christian Schmidt (although probably not)? At times when all or most of the performers were onstage together, they were grouped in two sections with one group on each side of the stage, or sometimes in a semi-circle around the whole stage area. Apart from those arrangements and depending on the music and the ideas being presented, there were moments when one singer might be seated on a chair or standing centre stage.

Singer Cassandra Seidemann in *Messa da Requiem*. Queensland Ballet, 2026. Photo: © David Kelly

There was always something of interest to see in these structures. In one early moment the performers, who were grouped on either side of the stage at this point, suddenly changed sides by running from one side to the other. It was always a pleasure, and sometimes a surprise, to see a new arrangement appear.

As for the choreography, there were one or two moments that were instantly eye catching, especially when the dancers appeared on stage without the singers, sometimes in quite small groups.

Dancers of Queensland Ballet in a moment from *Messa da Requiem*, 2026. Photo: © David Kelly

There were also two dancers whose roles were something of a mystery to me but whose performance was exceptional and in which the choreography was dramatic. Perhaps they had some connection to Judgment Day, which is one of the messages in Verdi’s music?

Clayton Forsyth and Frederick Montgomery in *Messa da Requiem*, Queensland Ballet, 2026. Photo: © DavidKelly

But mostly the choreography was expressing the notion of death and dying with the women being lifted or lowered in a prone position. Some were already dead it seemed. While this was clearly an area that related to the fact that Mess da Requiem is/was a Catholic funeral mass, it became a little tiresome, even though the dancers performed beautifully. The dancers on opening night were led by Lucy Green, Libby-Rose Niederer, Ines Hargreaves, Vito Bernasconi, and Joshua Ostermman.

Lucy Green and Vito Bernasconi in *Messa da Requiem*, Queensland Ballet, 2026. © David Kelly

Messa da Requiem generated strong and excited audience involvement. The singers were members of the Brisbane Chorale and Canticum Chamber Choir and the music was played by Queensland Symphony Orchestra. But going back to Ivan Gil-Ortega’s remark about the work not being a ballet but a production, all I can say is that there is such a thing as a ballet production with strong collaborative elements. I am thinking especially of Derek Deane’s Strictly Gershwin, and of course there have been others over recent years.

Looking at the printed program (and thankfully there was one) it was a surprise to see that the composition of Queensland Ballet, in terms of its dancers, has changed somewhat. I got the feeling that many dancers from an earlier period are no longer part of the company. I wondered why!

Michelle Potter, 29 March 2026

Featured image: A moment from Messa da Requiem, Queensland Ballet, 2026. Photo: © David Kelly

I was a guest of Queensland Ballet at this performance.

Swan? Lauren Brady

My review of Swan? was published online by Canberra CityNews on 26 March 2026. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

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25 March 2026. The B, Queanbeyan

First staged in Moscow in 1877, Swan Lake is one of the oldest ballets in the current theatrical repertoire. It is also perhaps the ballet that has been meddled with more than any other over the years. Some tinkerings have been simply changes to the storyline—venue, era, characters and the like. Think of Graeme Murphy’s exceptional production for the Australian Ballet, for example. Others have taken excerpts from the choreography and/or storyline and turned them into jokes or odd comments of some kind. Remember the Dance of the Little Swans from the all-male company Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo? Swan?, from Bad Knees Studios, falls into the latter category. Danced as a solo performance by Lauren Brady, it has been described as ‘a dark comedy/clowning piece’.

Before the show began, we were asked to answer a question on a slip of paper that said, ‘What would your dream hero be like?’. When we entered the theatre, Brady, dressed in a quite beautiful blue and white tutu (not sure about the make-up though), was there collecting our responses and making quacking noises as she did so. At that stage she was also sporting an orange swan-like beak attached to her nose. She chatted to us for a while before launching into an abbreviated explanation of the storyline of Swan Lake, focusing on the events that had changed the life of Odette, the White Swan of the original story. Her words centred frequently on her thoughts about love and life in contemporary society. The contemporary focus was highlighted by Brady’s use of a vape, which she picked up, used and put down throughout the 70 minutes of the presentation.

There were two occasions when she selected male members of the audience to come forward and engaged in an onstage conversation with them, which also involved a box in which our answers to the dream hero question had been stored. Slowly the production unfolded, with some kind of emphasis on the role of love in life and with occasional sexual overtones, until Brady closed the show.

I cannot count Swan? as one of my favourite productions but I was probably in the minority. The audience involvement throughout was strong and loud. Full of enthusiasm whenever Brady danced some very simple choreography, audience members hummed one of the main musical themes from Tchaikovsky’s 1877 composition, which (perhaps surprisingly?) pretty much everyone knew. Everyone also joined in imitating Brady’s duck-like quacks that permeated the piece, and there was much laughing from across the audience.

The show may have been more enjoyable for me had I actually been able to see more of what was happening. Brady’s performance took place at floor level in front of a grouping of several tables and chairs, which were occupied by enthusiastic audience members. Other seating consisted of regular tiered rows behind the tables and chairs. But when Brady lay or spread out in some way on the floor, which occurred often, it was impossible to see what was happening since the view from the tiered seating was obstructed by the tables and chairs and their occupants. Moreover, in that situation Brady’s voice was not always clear enough to hear exactly what she was talking about.

I’m really not sure what the point of Swan? was and I was relieved when the show finished. Other members of the audience clearly had a great night out.

Michelle Potter, 26 March 2026

Featured image: Lauren Brady in Swan? Photo: © Marc J Chalifoux

I was a guest of Queanbeyan Performing Arts Centre for this production.

Gloria—a triple bill. Co3 Contemporary Dance Australia & New Zealand Dance Company

13 March 2026. St. James Theatre, Wellington, Aotearoa New Zealand Festival of the Arts
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

The program opens with Lament, by Moss Te Ururangi Patterson, performed by New Zealand Dance Company. Shayne Carter’s music has fragments of the traditional chant, E Pã Tõ Hau, commemorating an historic battle between Maori and British forces. during mid-19th century Land Wars. The dance movement alludes to Maori haka, not as narrative but in a relentless pace throughout, conveying the fear involved in that notorious encounter—less a slow lament, more a shared panic and remembered grief.

A Moving Portrait is by Raewyn Hill, celebrated New Zealand dancer now artistic director of Co3 dance company in Perth. The dance achieves a perfect symbiosis with the music of Arvo Pärt—mesmerising, mysterious, dream-like, slow-motion movement, unceasing in the passing of time, unfolding, retreating, descending, recoiling, ascending, ageing, supporting, accepting, sharing—sympathetic, empathetic. The meditative work weaves a deliciously spooky spell inviting the audience to feel as though they are part of the cast. It’s sculpture on the move, finally finding the deep strings of double bass as if coming home, or moving on.

A moment from Raewyn Hill’s *A Moving Portrait*. Aotearoa New Zealand Festival of the Arts, 2026. Photo: © John McDermott

Gloria was choreographed in 1990 by Douglas Wright. He died in 2018 but will always be remembered as New Zealand’s leading and visionary dance-maker. From his extensive repertoire of full-length and one-act works, Gloria is rated the masterpiece. How fitting then that the country’s finest musicians—the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and Voices New Zealand, are performing Vivaldi’s sacred and soaring music. The conductor is Joseph Nolan.

The opening, in silence, sees a set of dancers lit in a warm rose light, holding hands in a perfect circle upstage centre, in a prayer-like invocation. Their soft flowing tunics only lightly cover the body’s lines. They move calmly forward into two clean straight lifelines, slowly kneel then lie face down, arms widespread. Suddenly Vivaldi bursts them awake, dancers rise and run, they dash across the stage, they leap for life, they embrace, climb up, over and down the bodies of fellow performers, make chains of flying leaps, astonishing skipping ropes of dancers tossed and caught. Images of Matisse, Picasso, Bruegel and da Vinci are fleetingly evoked. Glory and ecstasy, heady and heavenly, sacred and now playful, cheeky, boisterous, then so deeply beautifully erotic. Life in which spirit and body are one. Heaven must be close.

Two scenes from Douglas Wright’s *Gloria*. Aotearoa New Zealand Festival of the Arts, 2026. Photos: © John McDermott

Douglas’ program note:

In moving the body IS, the mind IS—our whole being participates to make something that wasn’t there before, and this is something larger than us. This “something” is what we’re dancing with, for and in, holding our death in our bodies like a sleeping child—careful as we move not to wake it.

Deirdre Mummery, Douglas’ friend, died young. This is no elegy for her death but an exhilarating affirmation and celebration of her life. If you can defy gravity you can beat death. To Domine Deus, Rex Caelestis, exquisitely sung by Pepe Becker soprano, with Donald Armstrong on legato violin, Francesca Fenton dances a loving solo that brings Deirdre momentarily back to life. Miracles happen if you let them.

Top honours to Raewyn Hill for embracing this Festival commission, bringing her own exceptionally interesting company and inviting NZDC to join them. Likewise to Megan Adams and Ann Dewey in restaging the radiant Gloria. and for involving many dancers from the original and other early casts in the life-affirming revival of this sublime choreography.

While in Wellington Raewyn presented the Russell Kerr Lecture in Ballet & Related Arts, tracing her illustrious career in New Zealand, Australia, Paris, Moscow, New York, Japan, and back to Australia. Archives of Humanity, her hugely moving full-length work for Co3 that managed to survive, even thrive, through the Covid crisis, was viewed in video, and brought many of those watching close to tears. An articulate philosopher of dance can do that.

So, a great weekend for New Zealand dance, both new and legacy works, and vision from the Festival directors in making this Gloria season such a triumphant success.

Jennifer Shennan, 16 March 2026

Featured image: A scene from Douglas Wright’s Gloria with (left to right) ‘Isope ‘Akau’ola, Ella-Rose Trew, Francesca Fenton and Anya Down. Aotearoa New Zealand Festival of the Arts, 2026. Photo: © John McDermott

Impulse. Australian Dance Party

My review of Impulse was published online by Canberra CityNews on 15 March 2026. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

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Australian Dance Party, Canberra’s professional dance company, is never one to perform in what we might call a conventional performance space. I don’t recall, for example, ever seeing the company dance in a proscenium-style theatre. The company’s most recent presentation, Impulse, sits centre-stage in that performance model. It is a free show incorporating the creation and improvisation of music, dance and visual arts, with its opening show taking place outdoors in the Woden Town Square on a beautiful, cloudless Canberra autumn day.

The dancers (there were six of them) performed on what looked like a Tarkett flooring of grass (synthetic I assume), and were surrounded by a mixed audience of dance fans and photographers and artists recording the performance in their own unique manner. Two musicians sat on a raised platform, each on a separate side of the performing space, working with a variety of electronic resources to produce a soundscape.

An opening moment from *Impulse*. Australian Dance Party, 2026. Photo: © Michelle Potter

The show began with a single dancer creating a fluid but grounded series of movements, often with her back towards what appeared to be the front of the performing area. Slowly five other dancers joined her at various times, sometimes dancing separately, sometimes as a group. At times they seemed to be copying each other’s steps, working in unison or cascading out from each other. Sometimes one dancer would take a rest. Sometimes two or three dancers would separate themselves from the others and create a quite different set of movements. There were times too when the dancers performed using stretches of tape to join bodies or to stretch bodies into varied shapes.

All performers, both dancers and musicians, were a pleasure to watch, especially as the show progressed and as a certain nervousness dissolved at what was the first performance of an unusual work. But for me it was Jahna Lugnan who really stood out. Her freedom of movement and absolute involvement in the performance was exceptional. And she scarcely stopped to rest.

Costumes were a mix of styles but there was a certain unity with three main colours being represented—orange, pink and black. It was Lugnan who wore the most interesting looking costume—beautifully cut orange shorts and a very attractively designed top in pink and orange. None of this is surprising given that Lugnan’s career to date has included modelling at an international level.

The soundscape was dramatic and had a definite contemporary feel. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of sound production happened when two dancers joined one of the musicians and used a microphone attached in some manner to the musician’s equipment. Each dancer took a turn in speaking into the microphone. It was not clear what they actually said but somehow whatever they muttered or whispered was translated into a loud non-human sound.

Dancers making music with a microphone. *Impulse*, Australian Dance Party, 2026. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Impulse, which celebrates Australian Dance Party’s tenth year of existence, was quite fascinating in many ways. It lasted for almost an hour, but the time just sped along.

A final show will take place on March 21 at the Gungahlin Town Square as part of the Gungahlin Festival. A pop-up exhibition is also being arranged in the future to feature the work created by the photographers and visual artists, which emerged as their reaction to Impulse.

A visual artist painting her thoughts about *Impulse*. Australian Dance Party, 2026. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Michelle Potter, 15 March 2026

Corybantic Games. The Royal Ballet (2018)

via the ROH streaming platform

I have to admit that I was bewildered by the name of Christopher Wheeldon’s 2018 work Corybantic Games. What did Corybantic actually mean and did it relate (as some reports or reviews suggest) to England’s hosting of the Olympic Games in 2012? Well, some research and a discussion with a colleague with a strong background in Ancient Greek language and history gave me a bit of understanding about the Corybants. As Wikipedia tells us they were ‘mythical, armed, and crested dancers who worshipped the Phrygian goddess Cybele (and often Rhea) with wild, frenzied dancing, drumming, and clashing armor’. My colleague mentioned that there was also a strong sexual element to their activities.

But a YouTube interview with Wheeldon, recorded by the Paris Opera Ballet, casts a Wheeldon-esque light on the name. Wheeldon used Leonard Bernstein’s composition, Serenade, for his Corybantic Games and apparently heard the word used in a symposium in which he heard Bernstein referred to as conducting Serenade with ‘Corybantic ecstasy’. For Wheeldon, the word therefore conjured up the concept of physicality but also the first Olympic Games in Greece. Thinking in that way made gave me a quite different way of looking at the ballet.

With its five sections, Corybantic Games follows the five movement structure of Serenade. Choreographically the sections are quite different with some danced by the full cast of 21 dancers but with others using different groupings. The Royal Ballet dancers performed Wheeldon’s detailed choreography with exceptional skill and emotional input, and there were many moments when I greatly admired the sense of fluidity Wheeldon created with his movement. But I thoroughly disliked the twists and turns of the hands and the frequency with which a foot was flexed upwards. These sharp and twisted movements were grating on the eyes and took away the smooth line of the body that was so clear from the major part of the choreography.

Then there were the costumes designed by Erdem Moralioglu, especially those for the female dancers. In the opening scenes the women wore long, delicately pleated skirts in white translucent fabric with a ring of blue/black around the bottom of the skirt. It had the look of a traditional Grecian garment.

Lauren Cuthbertson and Yasmine Naghdi in a moment from *Corybantic Games*. The Royal Ballet, 2018. Photographer not identified

But unfortunately the skirt was removed shortly afterwards and we were forced to look at a white bra and underpants that to my eyes could have come from a department store of the 1950s. These items took away the grace and dignity of the work, even though the 1950s look probably refers to the decade in which Bernstein’s Serenade was composed.

Luckily the set design by Jean-Marc Puissant was elegant in its architectural simplicity and in the admirable way in which it changed slightly throughout the work. In addition the lighting by Peter Mumford added a further elegance.

I’m not sure why Wheeldon used the word ‘Corybantic’ (apart from the reason above relating to the manner in which Bernstein conducted). From my research into the meaning of the word, its use by Wheeldon seemed nothing more than a somewhat pretentious name for a non-narrative ballet. To my mind there was nothing wild and frenzied about it, but there was some beautiful dancing.

Michelle Potter, 15 March 2026

Featured image: Yasmine Naghdi and Beatriz Stix-Brunell in a moment from Corybantic Games. The Royal Ballet, 2018. Photographer not identified