Enigma Variations. The Royal Ballet (2019)

Via the ROH streaming platform

Frederick Ashton choreographed his ballet, Enigma Variations, to the similarly named score by Edward Elgar: Royal Ballet publicity describes the ballet as an ‘ode to the composer Edward Elgar’. The ballet depicts several of Elgar’s friends and family who are seen at Elgar’s home as he ponders the outcome of a request to conductor Hans Richter regarding input into the premiere performance of the Enigma score. Richter eventually sends a telegram to Elgar agreeing to the request to conduct, and Elgar and his friends gather as one to share Elgar’s pleasure (and relief?).

I had never previously seen the ballet, which received its premiere from the Royal Ballet in 1968, and I came to the streaming with pretty much no knowledge of what was happening, not even why the mysterious envelope that arrived at the end of the work caused the thrill that it did for the cast. But even without this knowledge it was a fascinating work choreographically and for the way the collection of people who danced the various and diverse roles were so strong in their characterisations. It is also exceptionally designed as a period piece by Julia Trevalyan Oman. After watching it this first time, my curiosity sent me on a research trip via the internet and via David Vaughan’s engrossing book Frederick Ashton and his Ballets. I watched the stream again.

Christopher Saunders performed the role of Elgar and did so with a strength that drew attention instantly and constantly. The opening moments in which Elgar’s wife, danced by Laura Morera, offered her support for her husband as he struggled to remain unworried by his situation set the scene beautifully. It looked calm and simple in many respects but it was choreographically quite complex especially in relation to the various lifts included.

Christopher Saunders as Elgar and Laura Morera as Elgar’s wife, with Bennet Gartside as music editor A. J. Jaeger, in *Enigma Variation*s. The Royal Ballet. Photo: © ROH/Tristram Kenton

Francesca Hayward gave a memorable performance as Dorabella, a young friend of Elgar. Dorabella suffers from a speech impediment and this aspect of her persona was recognised with fast moving and constantly changing choreography—including fast runs and little hops on pointe. But, in addition to this somewhat remarkable choreographic inclusion, Hayward projected a winning, unforgettable youthfulness.

Francesca Hayward as Dorabella in *Enigma Variation*s. The Royal Ballet. Photo: © ROH/Tristram Kenton

Another standout character was Arthur Troyte Griffith, an architect and a close male friend of Elgar, danced dramatically and exuberantly by Matthew Ball. But the entire cast performed with such skill and dramatic input that it is hard to single out individual performances. One aspect of the choreography that stood out for me was Ashton’s skill in creating movement that never looked as though it was specific to particular parts of the body. Movement just coursed through the entire body.

Matthew Ball as Troyte in *Enigma Variation*s. The Royal Ballet. Photo: © ROH/Tristram Kenton

The ballet is episodic in structure and crosses time. But it is just beautifully structured and performed and will stay in my mind for a long time to come.

Michelle Potter, 20 February 2025

Featured image: Artists of the Royal Ballet in the closing moments of Enigma Variations. The Royal Ballet. Photo: © ROH/Tristram Kenton

Voices of Spring. The Royal Ballet

Via the ROH streaming platform

Frederick Ashton was a choreographer who used classical ballet as his medium, which today it is not such a common method of producing a new work, not even within a ballet company (at least not in my mind). This is not a criticism of ballet today and I clearly recall my former ballet teacher, Valrene Tweedie, saying ‘ballet absorbs everything’! To its credit ballet has moved on and continues to do so. But Ashton was a choreographer whose work is thrilling to watch for the manner in which he uses movement that encompasses aspects of ballet that no longer appear to the same extent in today’s choreography.

A recent addition to the ROH streaming platform has been Ashton’s six-or-so minute pas de deux Voices of Spring. Ashton originally made the work, then called Frulingsstimmen, in 1977 for a New Year’s Eve performance of Die Fledermaus as performed by the Royal Opera. It appeared in a ball scene in Act II of the production along with another Ashton inclusion, Explosions-Polka.

Frulingsstimmen was first performed as a dance piece, independent of the opera, in September 1978 under the name Voices of Spring, the English translation of its German title, Frühlingsstimmen. Since then the pas de deux has been part of the Royal Ballet’s repertoire (although it seems to have been performed somewhat infrequently).

The version the company has added to its streaming platform is a performance from 2013 danced by Yuhui Choe and Alexander Campbell. Technically they make Ashton’s demanding choreography look just breathtaking (including his ‘signature’ walking through the air moments). Impressive from both dancers is the line of the body, the fluidity of the arms and indeed the fluidity of the entire body throughout the piece, along with the use of a beautifully stretched neck, especially from Choe, with the head balanced so impressively at the top of the spine.

But more than technical matters, the connection between the two dancers had been exceptionally thought through. Campbell presented Choe to the audience in true balletic tradition, while never forgetting that he was an individual as well. Then there was the absolute joy that coursed through the pas de deux and that reflected so beautifully the music, the Frulingsstimmen waltz from Johann Strauss II.

This pas de deux has been danced by others over the years, all well-known artists. But, from the excerpts available on YouTube,* no one else seems to have captured the nature of the work as Choe and Campbell have done, especially the exceptional fluidity and the inherent joy seen throughout the performance. I was blown away.

Michelle Potter, 9 February 2025

* The YouTube footage available does not include the Choe/Campbell performance, which is only available online via the ROH streaming platform

Featured image: Yuhui Choe and Alexander Campbell in Voices of Spring. The Royal Ballet, 2013. Photo: © Tristram Kenton

All In. Dance Makers Collective

22 January 2025, Parramatta Town Hall, Western Sydney

It is not easy to review All In. To tell the truth, in many decades of performing, teaching and reviewing and writing about dance, I have never really seen anything like it. Not only that, Dance Makers Collective (DMC) is a new organisation for me (even though it is more than 10 years old apparently). Based on Dharug country (Western Sydney), it is a collective-led dance company with a mission to build dance communities and it works with, and between, dance theatre, contemporary dance and social dance. It aims to connect and move people and to destigmatise dance.

Its co-director, Miranda Wheen, is well known in Canberra having performed, with exceptional results, for various Canberra-based groups, including those directed by Elizabeth Dalman and by Liz Lea. My interest in Wheen’s work is what encouraged me to accept the generous invitation to review the latest DMC show.

The show took place in a hall with an unraked floor with two rows of seats around the edges of the space. It began with an Indigenous section led by a remarkable performer singing and using a version of clapsticks (they were quite long) to develop the rhythm of the section. The Indigenous element moved into a second section, which began with a series of connections between the Indigenous dancers and dancers performing Western-style contemporary dance.

The Western section eventually took on a life of its own and, while I found this section somewhat lengthy, the choreography was fast-paced, varied in the groupings that formed and dissolved, and nicely danced by all.

What was for me the most interesting of the following sections began as a Spanish/Flamenco flavoured performance led by a committed artist (Pepa Molina?), whose flamenco skills were clearly exceptional, and who was accompanied by a small number of other dancers also demonstrating Spanish movement. A few minutes into this section, however, the Spanish dancers were joined by a young man dressed all in white, who at first seemed also to be performing Spanish-style movement. But it didn’t take long to realise that he was in fact a proponent of Indian movement. What was totally fascinating was the way he moved his fingers. While they were clearly Indian-style, and exceptionally clear, somehow they blended beautifully with the the leading Spanish dancer whose fingers moved as if playing castanets. Here was a terrific example of the joyous connections between dance forms.

But the culmination of the show really brought home the concept of ‘all in’. The show moved quite suddenly into its finale when the audience (and not just one or two audience members but pretty much the entire audience) rose from their seats and joined the dancers on the floor. Young and old, experienced and not so experienced, all were present moving together. There were some instructions on a screen at the end of the space ‘Go left’, Go right’, ‘Make a circle’, ‘Dance with the person next to you’, and so on. And they did!

Media for the show, which was part of the 2025 Sydney Festival, stated: ‘Dance exists on stages, at weddings, in clubs and at cultural gatherings. Why is it so universal? What are the boundaries between ballet and backyard parties? Can dance build bridges and ignite collective joy?’ Well All In certainly built bridges of various kinds, including between dance styles and between performers and audiences. And seeing the thrills and excitement that permeated the finale, dance clearly can ignite collective joy.

So, apart from the thrill of watching a performance that was mostly an outstanding show in terms of dance technique, what All In showed us is that dance is for everyone and that it exists beyond what might be called a mainstage show. It needs to tour. I can think of a number of Canberra venues in which All In might be presented, notably in Canberra Theatre Centre’s Courtyard Studio Theatre and in Gorman Arts Centre’s Main Hall. Let’s hope!

Michelle Potter, 24 January 2025

All photos: © Anya McKee

Featured image: A moment from the opening scenes of All In. Dance Makers Collective, 2025. Photo: © Anya McKee

As I am not familiar with the company and didn’t really know the names of the various dancers, below is the list of creatives from the online program:
Director & Choreographer Miranda Wheen
Assistant / Rehearsal Director Marnie Palomares
Producer Carl Sciberras
Composer Fiona Hill
Designer Anya McKee
Lighting Designer Benjamin Brockman
Creative Collaborators Vishnu Arunasalam, Azzam Mohamed, Pepa Molina, Peta Strachan
Co-Choreographers & Performers Samuel Beazley, Mitchell Christie, Eliza Cooper, Emma Harrison, Katina Olsen, Melanie Palomares, Emma Riches, Ella Watson-Heath
Co-Choreographers Jana Castillo, Tra Mi Dinh, Sophia Ndaba
Featuring Cameo Performances from Jannawi Dance Clan, Future Makers, Riddim Nation, Las Flamenkas, Pepa Molina, Vishnu Arunasalam, and Majdy and Seraj Jildah
Indian Percussion Pirashanna Thevarajah
DJ Krystel Diola
Music Mix Bob Scott
Additional Choreography (Jannawi Dance Clan) Peta Strachan
Additional Music (Jannawi Dance Clan) Steve Francis (Composer) and Matthew Doyle (Vocals)
Additional Choreography (Las Flamenkas) Pepa Molina
Additional Music (Las Flamenkas) Manuel Barco
Stage Managers Tom Kelly and William Phillips

Yugen. The Royal Ballet

Via the ROH streaming platform

I was really surprised to discover (belatedly) that the Royal Ballet’s repertoire included a work called Yugen, choreographed by Wayne McGregor and presented in 2018. Australians of a certain age will remember Robert Helpmann’s narrative ballet Yugen, which he created for the Australian Ballet in 1965. Helpmann’s Yugen was freely adapted from the Japanese Noh play Hageromo. It told the story of Tsukiyomo the Moon Goddess and, in essence, focused on the outcome of an event one night when Tsukiyomo came down to earth to bathe in a lagoon but had her wings stolen by a local fisherman, Hakuryo, who believed they were rare shells.

Alan Alder as Hakuyro the Fisherman in Robert Helpmann’s *Yugen*. The Australian Ballet, 1965. Photo: © National Library of Australia/Walter Stringer

‘Yugen’ is a Zen Buddhist term and was defined by Helpmann in program notes to his ballet as ‘the most gracefully refined expression of beauty; beauty which is felt—as the shadow of a cloud momentarily before the moon’.

McGregor’s Yugen couldn’t be more different. His interpretation of the word ‘yugen’ is of course similar to that of Helpmann. In an ‘extra’ to the ROH stream, McGregor says the word means ‘mysterious or profound grace, something that has a mercurial beauty’. But there is no specific narrative line in McGregor’s production, although when watching it one is tempted to create a story in one’s mind as the work progresses. This is especially so with the relationship that seems to evolve between and beyond the leading dancers, Calvin Richardson, Sarah Lamb and Federico Bonelli, along with Joseph Sissens who takes a significant role as the work moves to an end. And also in that ‘extra’ to the stream, McGregor mentions that in his Yugen there is no obvious storyline, but goes on to say that he believes there is no such thing as a non-narrative ballet as audiences tend to imagine their own story (as indeed I did).

Choreographically, whether we see/imagine a narrative or not, McGregor’s work for eleven dancers is quite stunning. Danced to Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms and presented as part of Bernstein’s centenary celebrations, the work begins dramatically in front of Edmund de Waal’s set of rectangular structures of different heights and depths.

Scene from *Yugen* showing Edmund de Waal’s set. Photo: © ROH/Andrej Uspenski

From there the work proceeds through duets, solos and other combinations of dancers. A highlight is a solo from Richardson in which he seems to puzzle over his existence or state of being. Sarah Lamb performs McGregor’s demanding movements calmly and with amazing skill and it is such a pleasure seeing her look into the face of Bonelli who partners her through the work. They are clearly connected, emotionally or otherwise.

McGregor’s choreography is filled with exceptionally lyrical movements of the arms and upper body. And, as ever, he uses the space of the stage in unusual and thought-provoking ways. Watching is a moving and often surprising experience. It’s a waiting game too as one waits to see what will happen next in terms of how the body can move. Costumes by Shirin Guild allow McGregor’s diverse and fluid movements to be seen at their best

But perhaps the most deeply involving moments come as the work concludes. In a duet, with no one else on stage, and with the lighting (from Lucy Carter) progressively darkening, Sissens leads Richardson into the blackness. Is it to his death?

Calvin Richardson and Joseph Sissens in a moment from *Yugen*. Photo: © ROH/Andrej Uspenski

I probably need to relate the choreography of McGregor’s work more closely to the various psalms that are sung during the work. Perhaps another viewing? On this first viewing I am simply enjoying the fascination of two productions called Yugen—both so different in approach to the word, or aesthetic concept, that gave birth to them. And of course I enjoyed the spectacular dancing of the eleven Royal Ballet dancers who performed this second (for me) Yugen.

Michelle Potter, 5 January 2025

Featured image: Sarah Lamb in Wayne McGregor’s Yugen, 2018. Photo: © ROH/Andrej Uspenski

Postscript: McGregor’s Yugen was a co-production with the Dutch National Ballet.

The Lady of the Camellias. Shanghai Ballet

5 December 2024. Lyric Theatre, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane

I have had the good fortune over the years of seeing two spectacular productions with choreography by Derek Deane—Strictly Gershwin in two presentations from Queensland Ballet, one in 2016 and the second in 2023; and an English National Ballet production of Deane’s Swan Lake in 2011. Both left me staggered and wanting more. I wish I could say the same about The Lady of the Camellias danced by Shanghai Ballet and presented in a Brisbane exclusive by Queensland Ballet.

On a positive note, the design of both costumes and sets from Adam Nee was exceptional—a real visual treat. There was one scene in Act I that took place in a theatre and the curtained backcloth was just stunning and made this particular aspect of the narrative not only obvious but breathtaking. Then there were the several backcloths showing slightly abstract floral designs (camellias?), which also attracted one’s attention. In addition, the dancing was outstanding from all the Shanghai dancers. It was a thrill to watch their lyricism, especially in the beautiful use of the arms and upper body, the elevation of both men and women, and the perfection in the execution of the choreography. Unfortunately, however, even though the physicality was there, I didn’t always feel a strong emotional involvement between the dancers in what is a very emotional story.

With one or two exceptions, in particular a lovely pas de deux between the two main characters, Marguerite and Armand, while on holidays beachside, I found Deane’s choreography on this occasion somewhat unimaginative—it reminded me of the 1950s or 60s. Such a shame given that we have been used to seeing some quite outstanding contemporary ballet here recently from choreographers such as Christopher Wheeldon with Oscar for the Australian Ballet and, for Queensland Ballet, Coco Chanel, from Annabelle Lopez Ochoa. And this is not to mention recent work from Alice Topp, Loughlan Prior and others.

Wu Husheng as Armand Duval and Qi Bingxue as Marguerite Gautier in *The Lady of the Camellias*, Shanghai Ballet, 2024.

Then there is the storytelling aspect of The Lady of the Camellias. The Deane production looked at the society in which the story unfolded as well as the connections between the main characters. But there were times when it was not easy to tell who was who and what exactly the relationships between the various characters were as more and more people filled the stage. Perhaps, in order to be swept away by the Deane production, we are (or I am) too used to Frederick Ashton’s Marguerite and Armand, with the story stripped back to its basic elements, which thus more easily exposes a deep emotional content.

For me The Lady of the Camellias was something of a disappointment.

Michelle Potter, 7 December 2024

Featured image: Dancers of Shanghai Ballet in a scene from The Lady of the Camellias, 2024

New Zealand School of Dance performance season, 2024

20 November 2024. Te Whaea theatre, Wellington
Season runs until 30 November

reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This end-of-year performance season is dedicated to the memory of New Zealand’s celebrated ballet dancer Rowena Jackson, who died earlier this year aged 99. Rowena was Director of New Zealand School of Dance (then National School of Ballet) in the 1970s when her husband Philip Chatfield was artistic director of (later the Royal) New Zealand Ballet. That partnership ensured a close rapport between School and Company, echoed later in 1980s when Anne Rowse and Harry Haythorne were respective directors. After some years it is heartening that Garry Trinder, director of the School, is again renewing that rapport with the Company’s artistic director, Ty King-Wall. Artists, teachers, students and audiences are all going to benefit from that mutual trust as it develops even closer.

This season includes three premieres, and alternates classical and contemporary works, which gives a welcome opportunity to see the strengths of the School’s two parallel programs. It opens with a piece to the Waltz from The Sleeping Beauty. The cast of 15 dancers, drawn from all three years’ classes, dance with enthusiasm and commitment.

Showpony! by Matte Roffe, an alumnus of NZSD, begins with a fancy-dress comic line-up of characters with voice-over, that then segues into energised abstract dance. “Using the ‘show pony’ metaphor, the work questions if the cost of constantly chasing approval is worth it, urging the audience to reflect on the toll this pursuit takes on authenticity and wellbeing.”

Gabriella Arnold in *Showpony!* Photo: © Stephen A’Court

(S)even, by the late Jenna Lavin, to a piano sonata by Franz Schubert, was staged by Tara Mora—and brings a fresh clean style of classical alignment especially in port de bras. [The School employs three of the best dance accompanists in town, so how wonderful it would be to have at least one work danced to live accompaniment?]

Taane Mete, a graduate from NZSD in 1980s, choreographed All Eyes Open, to commissioned music by Eden Mulholland, a highly experienced composer for dance. It proved the masterpiece of the evening in its maturity of concept, contemporary relevance, construction, staging, style, dedication and performance. I’d have thought the work could go straight into RNZB repertoire, as in every way it evokes the works from José Limon and Doris Humphrey company legacy (which used to be an intrinsic part of NZSD curriculum and repertoire.) Clearly in Taane’s case that early inspiration, since his days at the School in 1980s, has proved lifelong.

A moment from *All Eyes Open*. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

His program note, a model of clarity, reads: This work is a humanitarian response to the occupation in Gaza. The all-female cast morph and oscillate in solidarity in a confined area. The work explores each individual pathway in relation to the ensemble group moving en masse like a hypnotic force. I couldn’t have reviewed it better myself. If ever the NZSD Board can see ahead to forming a touring company, giving graduates a year of performance experience, they would have in All Eyes Open a timeless work, and a premiere ready to go.

It’s Not Me, It’s Me, by Zoë Dunwoodie to music by David Jones, is a lively work suiting the young dancers searching their identity. It is inspired by a painting by Dutch artist Jan Toorop who is known for Javanese themes throughout his works, though this dance takes a different path. It extends the dancers’ movement range in many new directions.

Aylish Marshall and dancers in *It’s Not Me, It’s Me*. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

The final work Forte, by Tim Podesta, premiered earlier this year in Wellington. It is a sophisticated classical work, albeit in flat shoes, and the cast of five dancers deliver performances of electric quality throughout. Three students are from the First Year class so it is clear they have reached the school already highly trained and skilled performers. There are four separate pieces of music, with applause from audience following each section. If it were possible perhaps to connect each section with a minimal choreographic thread, that would allow the work to build the full momentum and denoument it certainly deserves.

Hui Yo-Hin, Liezel Herrera, Lin Yi-Xuan in *Forte*. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

We assume it is the Third Year students who are graduating, and we wish them all a fruitful and rewarding lifetime in dance.

Jennifer Shennan, 22 November 2024

Featured image: Mia Mangano and Trinity Maydon in All Eyes Open. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

A Stellar Lineup, 2024. Liz Lea Dance

My review of A Stellar Lineup from Liz Lea working with a range of community companies was published online on 23 November 2024 by CBR CityNews. Read it at this link. Below is a slightly enlarged version of the review.

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22 November 2024. Belconnen Arts Centre, Canberra

The dance scene in Canberra has long had a strong community focus, with representation from multicultural communities, groups of senior artists, people living with physical issues, groups focusing on a distinct form of dance, youth organisations, and many other specific groups. Everyone wants to feel what dance can offer and what dance can express.

Canberra’s Liz Lea, director of A Stellar Lineup, has so often been at the forefront of developing and presenting community dance in Canberra. The 2024 presentation of A Stellar Lineup is, in fact, the third iteration of a production that brings together groups of dancers representing the range and strength of this community focus.

The 2024 presentation focused on the Olympic Games, and not just on the relatively recent 2024 Paris events. We were told through dance, with a background of film, still photographs and spoken and printed words projected onto a backcloth, of events that have stood out, often focusing on Canberra-based stars across the history of the Games, and sometimes on Olympic funding issues.

Groups represented in the 2024 Lineup included the Indian community with several turbaned Sikh members of that community standing out; the now well-known GOLD Company of senior dancers; Fresh Funk representing breakdancing, which was included as a sport for the first time in the 2024 Paris Games; The Deaf Butterflies; ZEST Dance for Wellbeing; the Chamaeleon Collective, Lea’s relatively recent addition to Canberra’s community groups; a large gathering of very young dancers (including two babies carried in slings) from Project Dust, a First Nations’ contemporary dance group led by Emma Laverty; and various other organisations.

The dancing itself was, unsurprisingly, varied in terms of performance strength. For me the breakdancing from Fresh Funk stood out. Their section, Moment 4 Life, was fast-paced, and filled with energy and surprising moments of spectacular movement. Every single dancer gave his or her very vibrant best and, despite a few predictions, or perhaps suspicions, by colleagues before the show opened, as far as I could see there wasn’t a reference to Raygun and her controversial input in Paris. The Raygun performance was the last thing on my mind as I watched Fresh Funk performing.

Dancers from Fresh Funk in ‘Moment 4 Life’ from *A Stellar Lineup.* Photo: © Jen Brown

The GOLD dancers also showed their strength, especially in their ability to engage the audience with their physical and emotional engagement with the choreography. They are now an experienced and well trained group and are always worth watching.

Dancers from the GOLDs in ‘Game, Set, Match’ from *A Stellar Lineup.* Photo: © Jen Brown

I was also impressed by Rachel Hilton, who paid homage to her mother, Daphne Hilton, with a simple, but beautifully lyrical solo. Daphne Hilton was a Canberran and Australia’s first female Paralympian to medal. Then there was a homage to the legally blind cyclist Lindy Hou, and then to Louise Ellery a Paralympian in the track and field area. Towards the end of the show there was an engaging performance, The Silent Spirit of Deaf Sports!, from The Deaf Butterflies, which had the audience using deaf applause. And more…

An Acknowledgment of Country opened the evening and was also a highlight given that it was a choreographed acknowledgment from a stage filled with performers of various abilities. Indigenous input into the Games was also strongly acknowledged with an amusing section from Project Dust with appearances from some of the youngest performers of the evening, including those two babies carried in slings. It featured an Aboriginal flag, whose colours were matched by the red, black and yellow costumes of the performers.

Dancers from Project Dust including the babies in slings in ‘Eye of the Tiger’ from *A Stellar Lineup.* Photo: © Jen Brown

We can but admire Liz Lea’s determination to present community dance to Canberra audiences. Similarly, the strength and determination of members of the community groups that have developed over the years is also admirable, and a strong and definite addition to dance in Canberra. Dance is for everyone.

Michelle Potter, 23 November 2024

Featured image: Dancers from ZEST Dance for Wellbeing in ‘I used to Run a Marathon’ from A Stellar Lineup. Photo: © Jen Brown

Oscar. The Australian Ballet

13 November 2024 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

I have to admit that I have not always been a fan of works from Christopher Wheeldon who is choreographer of Oscar, the latest production from the Australian Ballet. But Oscar, which focuses on the life of Oscar Wilde, is an exceptional work from many points of view.

In a narrative sense, Oscar has two main acts preceded by a Prologue and closing with an Epilogue. It blends Wilde’s daily life and his art, with a particular focus on two of his written works, The Nightingale and the Rose and The Picture of Dorian Gray. It begins with Wilde’s trial and imprisonment for his sexual activities with men and then goes back to his early life including his meetings with male lovers. It moves on to scenes of his thoughts and recollections during his imprisonment, and finishes with the end of his time in prison and his eventual death. Wilde lived a very full and drama-filled life and a huge range of emotions colour the story.

I was impressed with Wheeldon’s choreography, which was diverse, demanding and danced strongly throughout. Curved, smooth and lyrical movements contrasted with sharp, geometrical and quite two-dimensional moments, and the relationships between characters was made clear choreographically, no matter what was the nature of those relationships. The Act II duet between Wilde and his long-standing sexual partner Bosie was a real highlight, although there were so many moments of exceptional and quite descriptive choreography.

I did not see the opening night cast (who feature in most of the images available) and so have no images of the dancers I saw performing at the matinee of 13 November. But of the cast I saw, in addition to a strong performance by Brodie James as Oscar, Jill Ogai stood out as the Nightingale and Bryce Latham and Thomas Gannon were thoroughly engaging as the sons (Cyril and Vyvyan) of Oscar and his wife Constance. The family picnic scene early on in the work, in which Cyril and Vyvyan sat with their father as he read to them, was especially entertaining.

Some very engaging moments occurred towards the end of Act I when Oscar’s close friend, Robbie, introduced Oscar to a gay bar. In addition to showing moments of sexual attraction between those in the bar, two characters named Harri (Yichuan Wang) and Zella (Jake Mangakahia) gave a brilliant show of acting and dancing as drag queens. The second act had, however, a very different feel to it. A degraded Oscar struggled to manage his life in confinement, and the remembered pleasures of his early life took on a kind of desperation. This difference in the emotional impact of the work was clear not just choreographically, but also in the score by Joby Talbot, which was more brash in its sound during Act I.

Set and costume design was by Jean-Marc Puissant and his set in particular was quite spectacular in the way the setting, while retaining the major structure of a building, was able to change to reflect different moments and aspects of the narrative, often assisted by exceptional input from lighting designer Mark Henderson.

My one less-than-positive comment is that perhaps too many of the characters that were part of Wilde’s flamboyant life were also part of this production. There were times when it was not at all easy to understand exactly what the situation was and who the characters were. Perhaps fewer events and characters would have made the work easier to follow while still being indicative of the varied range of people and events that characterised the life of Wilde. But having said that, Oscar was engaging pretty much from beginning to end. And just amazingly danced.

Michelle Potter, 15 November 2024

Featured image: Christopher Wheeldon rehearsing dancers of the Australian Ballet for Oscar. Photo: © Christopher Rodgers-Wilson

Waru— journey of the small turtle. Bangarra Dance Theatre

My review of Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Waru— journey of the small turtle was published online on 7 November 2024 by CBR CityNews. Read it at this link. Below is a slightly enlarged version of the review.

7 November 2024. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

Waru—journey of the small turtle is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first work made for children, and specifically for children aged 3 to 7, although adults can certainly enjoy it too. Drawing inspiration from Torres Strait Islander culture, Waru tells the story of Migi, a turtle who, after birth on an island in the Torres Strait, navigates her way out to sea with others born at the same time, and who then returns to the island to give birth to her own baby turtle. The idea for, and the creation of the work, came from Bangarra’s former artistic director, Stephen Page, and his son, Hunter Page-Lochard who wrote the storyline. There is creative input from various Bangarra dancers and in particular from Torres Strait Islander woman, Elma Kris. Kris takes on the leading role of Aka Malu (loosely translated as grandmother) in Waru. She is the storyteller and works hard (and effectively) to engage the young audience, and to convince everyone to participate in her storytelling actions.

Elma Kris as Aka Malu. Photo: © Daniel Boud

The cast is tiny. Elma Kris is joined by one other performer who plays a range of roles throughout the production, including the two turtles (the mother and a grown-up Migi), and a lizard who likes to eat turtle eggs before they hatch. But the story mostly flows beautifully and, beyond the narrative relating to these particular turtles, there is a wider story of the cycle of life and the need to protect the planet. Set and costume design by Jacob Nash and lighting by Matt Cox add a strong visual element to the production, while the music comes from Steve Francis and the late David Page.

The one slight flaw for me was a loss of vibrancy in the middle of the work, in those moments while we were waiting for Migi to return to lay her egg on the island, the egg from which her own child-turtle will be born. At this point we are told of the need take care that we do not drop our rubbish into the ocean. Kris makes the point as she removes various items of plastic from the water surrounding the island, and from the body of a sea animal who has become entangled with discarded rubbish.

Elma Kris removing rubbish from a sea creature. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Kris stuffs the collected rubbish in a bag and puts it to one side in order to have it recycled. But after the early excitement of the birth of Migi and the aid the audience was asked to give in helping the new-born turtles make their way out to sea, these following moments seemed quite passive, despite their importance and their relationship to climate change

In what is quite a short work, there is just a small amount of dancing although it includes a beautiful traditionally-focused dance, Kasa Kab, choreographed by Peggy Misi and Stephen Page. In many respects Waru reminds me of an old-style pantomime with the children in the audience joining in the action. They become increasingly involved towards the end, when Kris the storyteller is looking for that evil lizard who has appeared onstage for a second time and is seeking to eat Migi’s newly laid egg. Of course, Kris pretends she can’t find where exactly the lizard is located and the audience shouts and shouts telling her where to look. Of course, she looks everywhere but where the shouting directs her. It takes me back to those wonderful pantomime days! There is much to enjoy in Waru, for both children and adults.

Michelle Potter 8 November 2024

Elemental. The Chaos Project 2024, QL2 Dance

My review of the latest Chaos Project from QL2 Dance was published online on 19 October by CBR CityNews. Read it at this link. Below is a slightly enlarged version of the review.

The Chaos Project from QL2 Dance has become an annual event on Canberra’s youth and community dance scene: an event that gives young, aspiring dancers an opportunity to experience dance in a theatrical environment and to celebrate dancing on stage with colleagues.

Elemental, the 2024 project, was, however, a little different from previous productions. It was the first Chaos Project directed by Alice Lee Holland, who just recently has taken over the reins of QL2 Dance from Ruth Osborne. Elemental consisted of five separate works. They explored the elements of fire, space, air, earth and water, with each created by a different choreographer, or choreographers in the case of the final work.

The standout work by far was Earth choreographed by Alice Lee Holland. Although, as is the case with all five sections, the cast (of ten dancers in the case of Earth) was acknowledged as contributing to the choreography, it was Holland’s compositional input that really made the work the standout. Her extensive and varied use of the performing space, and the way she used groupings of dancers and had them interact with each other, meant that the work was always interesting to watch. In addition, her clear and dedicated development of the choreography gave the dancers a strong structure in which to work. Every one of them used their emerging performance skills with admirable courage and power.

The other four works, Fire from Jahna Lugnan, Space from Max Burgess, Air from Jason Pearce, and Water from Lugnan, Burgess and Pearce working together, did not to my mind have the same choreographic strength. All seemed to focus on movement of the arms and hands to the detriment of use of the whole body, and in some cases groupings of dancers seemed somewhat muddled. This was especially noticeable in the final work, Water, which had the largest cast and seemed not to have a strongly focused structure (as a result of having three choreographers working together perhaps?).

Pearce’s Air was something of an exception given that his aim was to explore the role of air on the body and how that aspect of the element can be expressed as a cohesive whole. Arm movements thus, rightly, played a major role, as did the gathering of the dancers in a single group for much of the work. Costumes for Air were quite exceptional. All the performers wore white to reflect an Arctic landscape and, while the colour was unvaried, the actual designs were all different and quite beautiful to look at. Their strength and beauty was, however, best seen without the blue-ish lighting that occasionally flooded over them.

Dancers from QL2 in a moment from *Air*. Photo: Olivia Wikner, O&J Photography

Lighting for Elemental was designed by the individual choreographers. Costume coordination was by Natalie Wade, although it is not clear who actually designed the costumes.

The major difference from previous Chaos Projects was the ending. Gone was a fully choreographed finale as we have become used to seeing—one of Ruth Osborne’s signature additions over the years of her directorship. The production finished, as most dance performances do, with the cast simply taking a curtain call. But, being used to a choreographed finale, I guess a simple curtain call was more of a shock than anything.

It will be interesting to see how the Chaos Project develops in future years under the direction of Alice Lee Holland. Personally, I hope the future may bring stronger choreographic input across the entire production.

On a closing note, I loved the image on the back of the printed program, which I think was created by Millie Eaton. She is acknowledged in the program’s list of the ‘creative & production team’ as doing ‘Program illustrations’. She also appeared in Fire, the work for the youngest members (aged about 8) of Elemental. The image indicated a complete involvement in the production, which is a feature, or certainly the aim, of every Chaos Project.

Michelle Potter, 20 October 2024

Featured image: Dancers from QL2 in a moment from Earth. Photo: Olivia Wikner, O&J Photography