Fever/Dream. Ballet Collective Aotearoa

3 July 2026. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Fever/Dream is a program of five works performed by the current members of Ballet Collective Aotearoa. Turid Revfeim has for some years now established and directed this independent collective, offering regular classes and creating opportunities for free-lance dancers to perform and choreograph. Their work is of consistently high standard and brings much of interest to our stages.

(See my earlier reviews on On Dancing of their Subtle Dances with NZTrio musicians playing live on stage, touring nationally to many arts festivals on the circuit here; Bartok’s The Miraculous Mandarin with Orchestra Wellington; and most memorably Schoenberg’s Transfigures Night with NZ String Quartet in a Chamber Music NZ project). They do small-scale and local shows as well.

Effectively BCA is a private ballet company. It’s been a long time since Ida Rubinstein used her considerable fortune to set up one of those in Paris, and to commission choreographies in which she herself performed the central (if not too demanding) roles. Money talks but it doesn’t usually say much. But Revfeim is no Rubinstein. Quite how she keeps BCA going, with no Board and no budget is something of a mystery, probably as much to her as to the rest of us, but there it is, and we should salute them.

The opening work, Fever, choreographed by Lyndon Foley, is a small masterpiece, beautifully crafted. Remember his name and hope he can continue choreographing. A tight group of six dancers deliver a faultless phenomenon of a million movements many of them mechanical, a few of them poignant, without ever losing the central thrust. The piece echoes the themes in Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, and Gertrud Bodenwieser’s The Demon Machine — so of course also resonates with the AI scenario that hovers over our heads today. One dancer is a conscientious objector for about 30 seconds but we do not miss it. Later there’s a short-lived motif of someone down on the floor swimming — for dear life, I guess. Aren’t we all?

Then follows Fever to Dream, a video by Hanna Harris and Olivia Duncan. Four dancers are caught cavorting among the roses at the local Botanical Gardens, then In Lambton Quay, then at Oriental Bay so there was no doubt what city we were in. A skilled poem, one word to a line, ran down the side of the screen — Fever, Lever, Lover, Loves, Loses, Loser, Laser … and so on till the final line, reached by a single letter change from Dread to Dream. The poem was reproduced in the printed program (hooray that there was one) and gave a spine to all the other works on the program.

Paths Cross, directed by Turid Revfeim, grew from a beginning in improvisation. Contrasting dance styles from each performer gave the work an interesting and impressive texture. Grit-S a solo performed by Zoe White, accompanied by Jefferson Chen on stage singing and playing keyboard. Unfortunately in the performance I attended the volume was very loud, which made it difficult to hear and to follow the subtleties that were obviously present.

Zoe White in a moment from *Grit*. Ballet Collective Aotearoa, 2026. Photographer not identified

(D)rea(m)lity, choreographed by Zoe White, makęs a striking and dramatic final work, playing off awake and asleep states, a somewhat terrifying dream sequence, then an inspired lighting trick to assure us all is well. Then follows an ambiguous ending that could be seen as a challenge to that assurance. This is what theatre is for.

Postscript: Several of the pieces used a haze machine, which, next to strobe lighting, is my least favourite trick from the tech crew. If a hazy effect is required then choreograph it I say, don’t turn on a mindless machine as you risk at least some of the audience closing their eyes, which means they might miss really important and intelligent choreography.

Jennifer Shennan, 8 July 2026

Featured image: A moment from Fever. Ballet Collective Aotearoa, 2026. Photographer not identified

Engine. Sydney Dance Company

My review of Engine was published online by Canberra City News on 25 June 2026, following its opening performance in Sydney on 24 June. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the City News post. Follow this link to the City News review.

*********************

24 June 2026. Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Sydney Dance Company’s latest production, Engine, is a triple bill with works from Canberra-trained Melanie Lane, with a return of her acclaimed work Love Lock; Berlin-based, Spanish choreographer Fran Diaz, with the Australian premiere of The Mass Ornament; and Rafael Bonachela, artistic director of Sydney Dance Company, with a new work, The Journey Itself is Home.

The evening opened with Love Lock, which I first saw back in 2024 when it was part of Sydney Dance Company’s Twofold program. Then I was transfixed by the notion and nature of the love lock (a padlock that represents everlasting love), and its role in people’s connections with those who share their life. This time I was able to focus more on the choreography, which was like nothing I have seen from any other choreographer. Lane’s approach to movement was quite eccentric with its angularity from individual dancers set beside unity of groupings of bodies.

Costumes were by Akira Isogawa. He started out with plain black pants and tops in various lengths and shapes, but his exceptional additions made across the course of Love Lock eventually contributed to the individuality that characterised the work. A pounding score from [Chris] Clark, which he describes as ‘a dense collage of percussion/cello/synthesisers/voices/flutes’, and atmospheric lighting from Damien Cooper, also made exceptional contributions to the production.

Dancers from Sydney Dance Company in a scene from *Love Lock*, 2026. Photo: © Wendell Teodoro

After a brief pause while the stage was being reset, Fran Diaz’s The Mass Ornament, with very plain costumes in dark green satin-like material, also designed by Diaz, took us into a world that focused on a new look at, or changed approach to, popular music hall entertainment. With its relatively simplistic use of movement and groupings, it reflected a certain unison characteristic of early popular entertainment. But it nevertheless embodied an individuality from the dancers and suggested we look beyond superficiality at inherent emotional connections. The Mass Ornament was not my favourite work on the program, but was interesting as perhaps an example of an early German Expressionist approach to art? Then, after some thought, I accepted the title of the work, especially the Ornament aspect of that title, as being a subtle comment on the nature of popular entertainment.

Dancers from Sydney Dance Company in a scene from *The Mass Ornament*, 2026. Photo: © Wendell Teodoro

The evening concluded with Bonachela’s brand new The Journey Itself is Home danced to a score by Bryce Dessner and lit by Damien Cooper. Compared with the other two works, Bonachela’s choreography looked quite unusual, or at least more like Western contemporary dance as we tend to know it. The work certainly showed Bonachela’s choreographic fluidity and approach to connections between dancers. A section that was basically a series of duets, one duet replacing the previous one, was admirable.

Dancers from Sydney Dance Company in a duet from *The Journey Itself is Home*, 2026. Photo: © Wendell Teodoro

But what stood out for me in this work was the manner in which Bonachela had used unison dancing and had made it quite fast-paced. It carried the work forward in an unexpected manner.

Before the show began, I wondered why the program had the somewhat unusual title of Engine. It was quite clear, however, from Lane’s opening piece that the title referred to an intensity of movement seen in the full-on, engine-like physicality that characterised all three works. The triple bill format is always an intriguing arrangement and opens up a wealth of possibilities. This program opened up one very clear aspect of the evening’s presentation: the powerful manner in which dance can deliver its inherent physicality and connectivity.

But an engine-like visual effect was just one aspect of what we saw onstage. For a start, the dancers were breathtakingly brilliant in every work. Then the costumes and lighting were outstanding in the way in which they contributed to the different approaches of each of the three choreographers—from the idiosyncratic nature of Lane’s work, through the hard-core expression from Diaz, and on to the more gentle and predictable nature of Bonachela’s contribution.

Engine was a stunning show and well deserving of the standing ovation and loud cheers and exclamations that concluded the evening.

Michelle Potter, 28 June 2026

Featured image: Dancers from Sydney Dance Company in a scene from Love Lock, 2026, with a view of some of Akira Isolgawa’s additions to the costumes. Photo: © Wendell Teodoro

I was a guest of Sydney Dance Company at this performance.

The comment from Clark about the music for Love Lock comes his notes on the work as published in the program for Engine.

Kontakthof—Echoes of ’78.

7-11 April 2026. Sadler’s Wells Theatre London
reviewed by Sonia York-Pryce

Meryl Tankard—dancer, choreographer, filmmaker, and former dancer with Tanztheater Wuppertal—has recently offered her version of Pina Bausch’s Kontakthof, originally performed in 1978, giving it another unexpected life. Conceived and directed by Tankard, this production is accompanied by the archival film footage, set design and costumes of Bausch’s collaborator Rolf Borzik (1944–1980). Tankard’s restaging follows on from previous successful iterations, but this unique production brings together nine of the 20 original 1978 cast members.

This version, titled Kontakthof – Images of ’78, includes Australians Josephine Ann Endicott and Tankard with fellow cast members Elisabeth Clarke, Lutz Förster, John Giffin, Ed Kortlandt, Beatrice Libonati, Anne Martin, Arthur Rosenfeld, all aged between 70 and 80 years of age, and reprising their roles 45 years later. We are indeed seeing ‘age on stage’—living archives with intimate embodied knowledge of Bausch’s Kontakthof and her unique movement language and theatricality. This remarkable happening was not lost on the audiences. Over four nights at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, the performances were the hottest ticket in town, with many disappointed that seats were sold out. During the run, it was poignant to have Pina’s son Salomon Bausch in attendance at Sadler’s Wells.

My full review is below..

Sonia York-Pryce, 15 June 2026

Featured image: A moment from Kantakthof—’Echoes of ’78. Photo: © Ursula Kaufmann

Kontakthof—Echoes of ’78

In dance academia, Bausch’s Kontakthof is a signature work portraying desire and loneliness as it has lived many iterations. Among them were amateur seniors aged over 65 from Wuppertal, who delivered their own distinctive and highly successful interpretation in 2000; school students from Wuppertal aged over 14 in 2008; young dance students from Tanztheater in 2021; ballet dancers of the Paris Opéra in 2022; and now the re-staging with the original cast of the 1978 production. The fact that Kontakthof “continues to move people decades later is proof of its timeless aesthetic”, states Bausch’s biographer Marion Meyer. Endicott has been principal repetiteur of Kontakthof and other Bausch works, but had never imagined she would be reprising her varied roles in this seminal work as a 75-year-old dancer. In an interview at Sadler’s Wells between performances, Endicott told me:

It is magical. It is a kind of transformation that when you go on stage, I am dropping hopefully about 30 years of ageing just from the moment I open the curtain, and I can do that dance.

The brilliance of Tankard to incorporate Rolf Borzik’s archive film documentation cannot be overstated. It accomplishes a perfect juxtaposition of ‘youth versus ageing’, plus the merging of the present-day with the bygone. Tankard’s documentary film experience compounded with the vast Borzik Kontakthof film archive meant that edited footage could be used to mirror and illuminate the youthful 1978 cast, while giving precedence to those cast members no longer present. Tankard’s Kontakthof–Echoes of ’78 opens with the nine remaining performers reprising their roles, accompanied by Borzik’s archival black-and-white film projections of the cast from 1978. The projections are screened onto a vast gauze curtain by the proscenium, which acts like a palimpsest, intersecting the past with the present. The missing monochrome dancers—Arnaldo Alvarez, Fernando Cortizo, Gary Austin Crocker, Mari Di Lena, Silvia Kesselheim, Luis P Layag, Jan Minarík, Vivienne Newport, Monika Sagon, Heinz Samm and Christian Trouillas—loom like mythical giants, the antithesis of the seemingly minute but lifesized older dancers of today. The setting is haunting, with the passage of time illuminated. The scene is set with the nine performers seated on some of the numerous chairs skirting the sides of the dance hall, ready as a refuge for the weary, uninterested or the missing, and a piano. One by one, the dancers walk downstage and go through a series of movements, gestures, baring their teeth, adjusting their bodies, each performer making the motifs more bizarre. This is mirrored by the projections. We feel the presence and acknowledge the absence of the performers who are no longer alive or able to reinterpret their roles. Strangely, these vanished dancers make for greater poignancy to the original work, as there is an extreme sense of melancholy and loss as we watch the nine remaining perform alongside their monochrome youthful selves. The imagery is beautiful, emotive, and at times amusing. Could this production be considered a memento mori for Bausch, Borzik and the absent dancers? There were moments where I found myself close to tears and I noted that the production had a profound effect on others in the audience too.

These nine remaining performers are the last bodies of knowledge to breathe and regenerate life into Bausch’s Kontakthof, as they have lived and embodied the life experience of the roles. The evocative German songs of the 1920s/30s that accompanied by the performers swathed in elegant silk dresses and sharp suits give us an insight into a dance hall of the period, a place to make contacts, for couples to confront, and others to reach out.

Through the dancers in the ‘contact hall’, we experience the human condition, relationships that exhibit frustration, love, hate, sadness, loneliness, coyness, irritation, humour, despair, disruptions and curiosities that Bausch observed in her works. It’s a gathering for couples in a community space to dance, talk, observe, or fight. We view strained relationships, emotional expectations, and awkward situations. All reactions are present. The audience is placed as the voyeur, experiences that some can identify with, yet cannot look away. Bausch continues to confront us in death. The mere stamina of the cast is incredible and appears at odds with their current ages. Before the interval, the performers assemble centre stage, sit on chairs and introduce themselves one by one to the audience. It is an endearing and intimate moment, where the audience is invited to learn something about these wonderful performers.

The second half takes on more emotional tangents. Borzik’s archival footage is now projected more boldly onto the syce behind the performers; the imagery appears more prominent, almost like a portal into the past. Endicott embodies many roles, one that requires literal crying for about five minutes, then groaning ‘Aua’ into a microphone, comical but unsettling as it seems endless. Why? No one knows. Then Tankard and Endicott reappear as beguiling little girls—‘all frills and bows’—moving totally in synch with each other, mirrored against the archival footage of themselves behind them. They are intriguing to watch as both their youthful and mature bodies merge with hardly a hairs whisper in either duplication of movements. How is this possible? There is a section where the archival footage displays members of the original cast as slow dancing couples enveloped in tight embraces. We see one couple and Endicott alone holding an invisible/absent partner; it is a tender tragic moment and reminds us that we are all mere mortals. Ironically for those absent, the footage gives them an immortality, never to grow old. And so it goes on, more tragi-comic moments interspersed with men poking, groping and aggravating an expressionless Tankard. It is hard to watch. At times, the cast intersperse with wry knowing smiles, a juxtaposition to the emotional detritus scattered about the stage and screen.

These performers bring a whole new precedence and meaning to Kontakthof. To return to such an iconic work as older dancers enhanced with wisdom and longevity brings to reality a concept Bausch had once expressed to Tankard decades ago.

Sadly, Kontakthof – Echoes of ’78 will not be touring Australia.

Dancing through Time: Returning to Pina Bausch’s Kontakthof https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtFEAAIydWM

World Premiere
26.11.2024 Opernhaus Wuppertal Kontakthof Echoes of ‘78 is co-produced with Amare (The Hague), LAC Lugano Arte e Cultura, Festspielhaus St. Pölten, and China Shanghai International Arts Festival and supported as a contribution to the preparation of the Pina Bausch Centre with funds from the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, the Ministry of Culture and Science of the State of North Rhine-Westphalia and the City of Wuppertal.

Voyages. Royal New Zealand Ballet

29 May 2026. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Voyages was a stimulating new venture by RNZB—a program of seven short works, five of which were choreographed by Company dancers. In recent years these have been studio showings of similar programs of new or draft works, but here the chance to dance on a stage, albeit an intimate size in the Hannah Playhouse, with the added benefit of lighting, provided another welcome sign that the Company with every season is returning to its former strength and confident identity under the artistic directorship of Ty King-Wall. The happiness that engenders on both sides of the footlights is palpable. The return to a modest printed program including a cast list is more welcome to a reviewer than mere thanks can convey, and also honours those who make and deliver the dance. The record will thus stay in the archive forever, whereas digital files are not nearly so easily accessed after curtain down, let alone in years to come.

Each of the seven dance-makers offered fresh ideas and styles, and we can look forward to seeing more from each of them. Katherine Minor’s Marga’s Dance had a delightfully fresh quality as two couples ‘stopped their work, meeting a dance to fill the air’ … youthful friendship, in a fine choice to open the program.

Soloist Dane Head and Scholar Charlotte Willis In a moment from Katherine Minor’s *Marga’s Dance* from *Voyages*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stagebox Photography

Somewhere, by Branden Reiners, a duo of two men—’a memory of brotherhood and love’ was a charged yearning for intimacy impressively performed by Timothy Ching and Jake Gisby.

Who Came to Be, by Gretchen Steimle, had a large cast of ten dancers whose many entrances and exits, solos, duos and groups, very effectively served her theme—’Some of us grow into the spaces others leave behind’.

A scene from Gretchen Steimle’s *Who came to be* from *Voyages*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stagebox Photography

Phase II, by Breyah Takitimu, had another large cast of eight dancers who ‘explore the tension between the desire for control and the inevitability of change’, another very well-shaped work which included jokes about ballet technique given a sassy twist.

Weathered, by Joshua Douglas had six female dancers dressed in airy and soft grey, supporting his theme of emotional endurance ‘finding strength not through resistance but through continuation’. This was a thoughtfully shaped work.

Jeremy Beck as guest choreographer provided welcome humour in Soft Reset, a clever satire that showed the dancers might take their work but not necessarily themselves seriously. Comedy is harder to play than tragedy and this proved a hoot of a closing piece to a gem of a program.

The dancers all delivered impeccable performances, the more impressive as the audience were at very close range and any slip would have been apparent. There were no slips.

Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis in two moments from Shaun James Kelly’s *Swan Song*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stagebox Photography

A duet, Swan Song by Shaun James Kelly, inspired by Swan Lake, used Tchaikovsky’s music to explore the personal emotion within the roles. It was exquisitely danced by Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis and you could have heard a feather drop. This was all the more poignant as it marked Shaun’s retirement from performing after twelve years with the Company, though it’s not entirely farewell and thank you as he will continue as resident choreographer with the Company. Lucky us.

Jennifer Shennan, 5 June 2026

Featured image: Timothy Ching and Jake Gisby in Branden Reiner’s Somewhere from Voyages. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stagebox Photography

Opera Gala. Snow Concert Hall

My review of Opera Gala was published online by Limelight Magazine on 1 June 2026, following its opening performance in Canberra on 29 May. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the Limelight post. Follow this link to the Limelight review.

********************

For many, a gala is a large-scale event. Opera Gala, however, was a performance by just three artists, soprano Cathy-Di Zhang, mezzo-soprano Helen Sherman, and pianist Thomas Victor Johnson. It was curated and presented by Ana de la Vega, artistic director of Canberra’s relatively new, exceptionally designed Snow Concert Hall.

The program consisted of arias and duets from a range of operas including Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville, Rossini), Cosi fan tutte (Women are like that, Mozart), Madama Butterfly (Madame Butterfly, Puccini), Carmen (Bizet), Rusalka (Dvorak), and La clemenza di Tito (The clemency of Titus, Mozart). In addition, the aria fromMadama Butterfly was preceded by a short solo from the pianist. He played the Prelude to Act III of Madama Butterfly.

While Sherman and Zhang both sang beautifully throughout the evening, two items stood out for me. Zhang gave a moving rendition of ‘One Fine Day’ from Madame Butterfly. There was no extravagant acting as she sang, just a feeling of hope for the return of the man she loved, US Naval Officer Lieutenant Pinkerton, which we in the audience knew would not happen. It was an extremely poignant performance.

Secondly, I enjoyed the duet from Norma in which two female characters, Norma and Adalgisa, interact with each other when Norma learns she has been betrayed by her lover. But Norma and Adalgisa pledge solidarity with each other and there was strong interaction between the two women, which drew me into the story very easily.

I was also especially impressed with the work of pianist Thomas Victor Johnson. From his approach to the music of the first aria, Una voce poco fa from The Barber of Seville, to the final moments of the gala, an encore, his expressive playing filled the auditorium and added beautifully to the unfolding of the singing. He wasn’t simply an accompanist but a thrilling part of every aria and duet.

For those who were not familiar with the specific narratives that surrounded the arias and duets, Zhang and Sherman took turns in outlining the role played in each opera before performing each musical number. There was also a lovely moment following one of the arias from Cosi fan tutte when Zhang mentioned the reason why Mozart had given the aria such a wide pitch range. It had to do with Mozart’s interest in the way the singer, for whom the aria was originally created, moved her head in relation to varying sound. The audience loved the story! It was also interesting to see a different side of the singers as they explained what each song was about.

Over the four or so years of its existence the Snow Concert Hall, with its excellent acoustic properties, has become an exceptional Canberra performing venue. I can only say congratulations to Ana de la Vega for her magnificent ongoing curatorship, for which Opera Gala was a more than worthy item.

Michelle Potter, 1 June 2026

Featured image: Helen Sherman (left) and Cathy-Di Zhang with Thomas Johnson at the piano. Opera Gala, Snow Concert Hall, 2026. Photo: © Dalice Trost

Sheltering. Bangarra Dance Theatre

My review of Sheltering was published online by Limelight Magazine on 25 May 2026, following its opening performance in Canberra on 23 May. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the Limelight post. Follow this link to the Limelight review.

*******************

23 May 2026. Canberra Theatre, Canberra Theatre Centre

Sheltering, Bangarra Dance Theatre’s latest show, set out to present the audience with a reminder of the social and cultural issues that connect people and place. The three works that made up the program spanned just over ten years of Bangarra’s production history. The opening work, Keeping Grounded, with choreography by Glory Tuohy-Daniell, was first shown as part of a Dance Clan program in 2023; the middle piece, Brown Boys, a short film from Daniel Mateo, was also first shown in a Dance Clan program this time in 2024; and the final work, Frances Rings’ Sheoak, was first presented in 2015.

Keeping Grounded stood out largely as a result of the set by Shana O’Brien. It consisted of a large net, fishing-style, with a series of quite large holes scattered across its surface. The net hung from the flies but moved and spread itself out at times, and was manipulated in various ways by the cast of eight. There were moments when the dancers climbed onto the net and walked across it, and they often moved through the holes in an attempt to touch the floor area, which represented their need and efforts to stay grounded. The visual effect was powerful and added a clear understanding of the aim of this work.

The net from *Keeping Grounded*. Photo: © Daniel Boud. (Image from Dance Clan 2023)

The six minute film, Brown Boys, was performed by Daniel Mateo and co-directed by Mateo and Cass Mortimer Eipper. It focused on the stereotypes and stigma that often directed the feelings of acceptance, or non-acceptance, of First Nation’s male youth as they transited through life. It was somewhat confronting, although Mateo says in program notes that he was ‘offering [the work] as a gift to Brown Boys in the hope of supporting them on their journey of becoming.’ It was challenging nevertheless given some aspects of the film, in particular the strong, loud words spoken by Mateo and the close-up images that seemed to crowd out towards the audience as the film unfolded.

The final work, Sheoak from Frances Rings, represented the resilience of First Nation’s people as they engaged with the world in this 21st century. Rings used the symbolism of the endangered sheoak tree to examine the need to protect the culture of her people. Back in 2015, in a review of the program in which Sheoak was first presented, I wrote:

The sheoak tree, the grandmother tree in Indigenous lore, is endangered and, in the opening scene, we see pyramid of dancers gradually collapsing. The metaphor of the tree in Aboriginal society continues, and the keeper of the place in which the tree grows mourns its loss. Societal dysfunction results and the community faces the challenges of operating in a new environment.

A moment from *Sheoak* from its original presentation in 2015. Photo: © Jeff Tan

Sheoak also had a strong visual effect with dancers holding and wielding large sticks representing tree branches, and with its final moments depicting the birth of a spirit portraying hope for change and ongoing development. Jennifer Irwin’s costumes were arresting, especially in the final section when long, diaphanous skirts were decorated with quite intricate, rope-like elements.

Costumes by Jennifer Irwin for the final section of *Sheoak*. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But what continued to plague my thoughts throughout the show was the choreography. Bangarra has always had an exceptional collaborative aspect to its work and Sheltering was no exception given the powerful visual aspects of each of the works. But the choreography varied little from work to work. I began to wonder whether Bangarra had deliberately pursued the development of a particular Bangarra style similar to, say, the way some well-known contemporary choreographers had created a personal style to which they constantly moved: Martha Graham and Merce Cunningham for example. What I saw from Bangarra on this occasion, especially in the opening work, was movement that was highly grounded and filled with upturned feet and bent arms, often along with static or non-fluid moments. I have no objections to such a style but sometimes something more fluid or less angular and jerky would have worked well.

Sheltering was a program honouring David Page, whose contribution to the development of Bangarra was largely but not exclusively through his sound scores. The score for Sheoak was in fact from David Page. This Page brother died in 2016 and the presentation of Sheltering thus marked the tenth anniversary of his death. The printed program contained a double page spread outlining the extent of his contribution. Remarkable really.

David Page discussing his music for *Sheoak*, 2015. Photo: © Tiffany Parker

Michelle Potter, 26 May 2026

Featured image: Daniel Mateo in a moment from Brown Boys. Photo (still from the film): © Cass Mortimer Eipper

I was a guest of Bangarra Dance Theatre on this occasion.

Sphere. Australian Dance Party

My review of Sphere was published online by Canberra CityNews on 15 May 2026, following its opening performance in Canberra. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Follow this link to the CityNews review.

**************************

14 May 2026. The Vault, Dairy Road Precinct, Fyshwick ACT

The Vault is a concrete bunker that used to be a storage depot for coins and then beer kegs. It is a blank space, without windows, without pillars and without any decorative elements. It is located in Canberra’s Dairy Road Precinct on the edges of the industrial area of Fyshwick. It can perhaps be described as an example of Canberra’s brutalist architecture.

Sphere is a work, according to Alison Plevey founder of Australian Dance Party, that focuses on two meanings of the word ‘sphere’, that of aspects of the universe and, as well, the sphere of influence of dance. It was also created in celebration of Australian Dance Party’s tenth year of existence and, given its wide focus and its presentation in the Vault, which on the surface is not a hugely theatrical space, it is perhaps a little surprising that it was as immersive as it was.

On entering the space for the performance, it was noticeable that seating was spread out and arranged irregularly—no rows or tiers of seats, just a few simple benches and a few small rows of regular seating scattered across the area. There were spaces too for audience members to seat themselves on the floor. We were invited, as the production began, to move around the space as the work unfolded and, as the desire took us, to be closer to some aspects of the performance.

The overall production consisted of several sections. There were group moments, including the opening section led by Jahna Lugnan. This was followed by a very physical duet, a solo or two, including a powerful performance by one of the male dancers, and a few more group sections, all taking place in different areas of the Vault’s space.

A scene from one of the solos in *Sphere*. Australian Dance Party, 2026. Photo: © Michelle Potter

I am not sure whether Sphere was specifically choreographed or whether it was largely improvised movement. The character of the movement was, however, distinctive of the work of Australian Dance Party. There was a strong emphasis on fluidity of the upper body and, when working in groups, the dancers moved together often with bodies twisted around each other. Unusual shapes developed.

But what made the work so immersive, was the magnificent video imagery that covered the walls of the Vault as the dancing moved ahead. Created by videographer Liam Budge of Creswick Collective, the imagery was largely shot in a very Australian landscape of eucalyptus trees, with the vision including shots of dancers performing amongst the quite magnificent trees. One section, however, was shot to include graffiti images found in a more residential part of Canberra.

As it happened, the invitation to the audience to move through the space and get closer to some sections was not taken up to any great extent. I didn’t move around and to tell the truth I’m not really sure if moving around the space would have added to my feeling for the nature of Sphere. But I was fascinated by a quite young boy who did get up from his seat and try out a bit of dance for himself.

While immersive was the word that kept coming to mind as the work progressed, I also felt there was a calming quality to the overall production. Perhaps it was brought on by the lighting design, which was quite dark, apart from the changing, well-lit areas in which the dancing itself was taking place. It was at times difficult to distinguish the dancers from the audience as the performers, when not dancing, were sitting in various spots within the space rather than being hidden in the wings of a more usual performing space. It seemed to break down, in a positive way, differences between people.

Sphere, with original music from Sia Ahmad, was an exceptional and unusual tenth birthday event.

MIchelle Potter, 15 May 2025

I was a guest of Australian Dance Party for this performance.

Romeo and Juliet. The Australian Ballet (2026)

6 May 2026 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

The Australian Ballet’s 2026 presentation of John Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet is quite simply extraordinary! To put it bluntly I can’t remember, in decades of watching dance, ever being so involved in the unfolding of a narrative production.

The actual dancing, led at the performance I saw by Brett Chynoweth as Romeo and Yuumi Yamada as Juliet, was just brilliant. And it was not just the dancing but the acting as well, and that from across the entire cast, which held the show together. Every character, even those in the corps de ballet, appeared to have an individual personality. Not only did they demonstrate individuality in their every moment onstage, but their reactions with each other were also so exceptional and entertaining that the story just sped along and held one’s attention from beginning to end.

This production was staged by choreologist Mark Kay and Yseult Lendval, a former principal dancer with Stuttgart Ballet and currently ballet mistress in Stuttgart. I can only surmise that the extraordinary nature of the production was a result of this staging and in fact Lendval is well-known for her connections with Cranko’s works.

But in addition to the dancing and acting, I suspect that the beautiful look of the ballet had much to do with the lighting design by Jon Buswell. The lighting design moved from the outdoor brightness of the market-place scenes to the indoor evening event in which Juliet and Romeo meet and dance together for the first time, and in which the Capulet family and their guest give us those famous group dance moments. Then there is the romantic outdoor evening light in which the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet unfolds. Every moment is thrillingly lit and so well captured by Daniel Boud’s photography.

Romeo and Juliet connect with each other outside the Capulet residence. The Australian Ballet 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud

I suspect too that the costumes, designed way back in 1962 by Jürgen Rose, looked so spectacular in 2026 because of Buswell’s lighting (even though they may have been recently remade).

A scene from the Capulet Ball from *Romeo and Juliet*. The Australian Ballet 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud

I was also thrilled to note that the Sergei Prokofiev score for the ballet (played by the Opera Australia Orchestra) was being conducted by Nigel Gaynor, whose work I have long admired during his time (now over apparently) with Queensland Ballet.

The one slightly jarring moment for me was in Act 3 when Juliet’s friends (and bridesmaids in waiting?) came into her bedroom to wake her up. The dance they did (and always do) before specifically approaching her as she lies in bed has always seemed too long to me. It did again on this occasion. Let’s get on with the story!

But all in all what a tremendous afternoon of ballet it was. I have purposely not singled out any of the dancers (other than mentioning Yamada and Chynoweth as the leads) as quite honestly everyone gave an exceptional performance.

Michelle Potter, 10 May 2026

Featured image, A moment from the carnival scene from John Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet. The Australian Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud

I attended this performance as a member of the general public. My ticket cost $245

Invitation to the Dance. Salut! Baroque

My review of Invitation to the Dance was published online by Canberra CityNews on 25 April 2026, following its opening (and only) performance in Canberra. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Follow this link to the CityNews review.

**************************

It was a surprise to discover that the music ensemble Salut! Baroque, which has been performing music from the Baroque era for Australian audiences for over 30 years, was to present a program called Invitation to the Dance. Not only was the presentation to focus on music created with dance in mind, but it was to include a live performance from a dancer.

Musically the evening consisted of nine works, one each from Jean-Féry Rebel (Les caractères de la danse, 1715); Christoph Graupner (‘Le Desire’ from Overture in F Major (1731); Philipp Heinrich Erlebach (Trio Sonata No. 2 in E Minor, 1691); Georg Philpp Telemann (Overture Suite in B Flat Major, c. 1725); Henry Purcell (Instrumental Dances from The Fairy Queen, 1692); James Oswald (‘The Marvel of Peru’ from Airs for the Seasons, Autumn, 1755; Jean-Baptiste Lully (excerpts from Ballet des Saisons, 1661); Johan Helmich Roman (Golovinmusiken, 1728); and an anonymous composer with a Romani folk dance ‘Fa nyé mama’ from Collection Uhrovska, 1730). The dance component was performed by a Sydney-based specialist in Baroque dance, Aimee Brown.

My expectation was that Brown would perform in every, or at least almost every musical section. This was not the case. She danced for the whole of the opening piece, Rebel’s Les caractères de la danse. But for the rest of the evening Brown performed in just four of the items and then only for short moments from those four numbers.

Brown wore a 18th century-inspired, pale pink gown with three-quarter length sleeves ending in a frill, and with a few decorative elements as part of the gown. Her shoes were also pink and resembled ballet flats with a small heel attached. For the first item she wore a large, white feather in her hair.

There were slight changes of costume for each of her appearances, including changes to the headdress and additions to the costume including the addition to the dress of two side panels in a decorative Baroque design. In some items Brown also made use of what might be called props, including at one stage a chain of floral items and at another stage a fan.

Brown’s dancing was quite delicate with an emphasis on hand and arm movements along with footwork that consisted mostly of quite small steps that looked balletic but without the turnout that later came to characterise balletic movement. Her upper body was mostly held upright. Elegant is the descriptive word that comes to mind.

It was disappointing that Brown’s performance was not made more visible, but this seems to characterise those occasions where dance is included as part of a musical event. At a basic level, music is made to be heard but dance is made to be seen. When the dance is performed behind the orchestra, even when on a slightly higher level as was the case with the Salut! Baroque performance, the dance, especially what the feet are doing, is always largely hidden by the musicians. I had to stand up and move to the side of the hall to see Brown’s footwork, which showed a balletic quality but without the turnout that now characterises balletic movement. Then, and again this was the case with Invitation to the Dance, the audience is often not in a tiered seating arrangement. This hides much of the dance from almost everyone.

One very pleasurable aspect of the presentation was the very dance-like appearance of one of the musicians, John Ma. He played his Baroque violin not just with arms, hands and fingers, but with his whole body. As well as producing an outstanding sound, Ma moved his body according to the sound he was producing, up, down, sideways and so on. He was stunning to watch (and hear). A dancer-musician!

Michelle Potter, 28 April 2026

Please note that the dress worn by Brown in this image is not the one she was wearing in Invitation to the Dance. There appears to be no image from the Canberra presentation.

I was a guest of Salut! Baroque at this performance.

Aladdin. Victorian State Ballet

My review of Aladdin was published online by Canberra CityNews on 24 April 2026 following its opening on 23 April in the Canberra Theatre Centre’s Playhouse. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

**********************************

This is a surprising presentation of the story of Aladdin, a young man whose life is transformed by a magic lamp that he discovers when lured into a cave by a sorcerer.

The scenario is somewhat complicated and involves a lot of traditional mime by the leading characters—Aladdin (Michael Scott-Kahans); Jafar the Sorcerer (Tristan Gross); a Genie (Daniel Sierra), who obeys the demands of the holder of the magic lamp; Aladdin’s mother (Charlotte Jones); and Princess Jasmin (Elise Jacques), whom Aladdin eventually marries. Those mime gestures included ‘beautiful woman’, ‘to marry’, ‘to dance’ and others. I did wonder whether the narrative was clear to those whose knowledge did not include those gestures, which are rarely used and so probably little-known these days.

Nevertheless, the leading characters performed strongly both in terms of their dancing and in the development of the relationships between them. Scott-Kahans gave an exceptional performance as Aladdin. His dancing was filled with outstanding elevation and expressive partnering in which he always seemed to have a caring relationship with the woman he fell in love with. His fluid arms and upper body were just beautiful to watch and are characteristic of the work of Victorian State Ballet.

Gross maintained a certain mysterious quality as the Sorcerer until he managed to extract the magic lamp from Aladdin. After this the Sorcerer became a nasty individual who was eventually overcome.

Jacques danced beautifully throughout as Princess Jasmin. Her stage presence is remarkable and her technique is almost faultless.

Elise Jacques as Princess Jasmin. Photo: © Enpointe Productions, 2025

The only main character whose performance I thought needed a little more work was the Genie, danced by Sierra. I found his movement often quite static and his hands stiff and overly stretched. Sometimes, too, his partnering looked a little as though he was struggling to lift his partner. He was making a terrific effort to maintain, I think, a particular distance or difference from the human beings he was dealing with but somehow that interfered with his ability to dance smoothly.

Choreographic highlights came from the four duets representing the jewels that Aladdin found in the cave that he was lured into by the Sorcerer—emeralds, sapphires, rubies and diamonds. The dancers performing the duets were each accompanied by three dancers also dressed as those jewels. They filled the background during the duets and showed well the approach to using the space of the stage by the choreographers (Michelle Cassar de Sierra and Martin Sierra Robles).

The quite large corps de ballet (perhaps only seemingly large on the Playhouse stage?) also related well to each other when dancing, and when standing at the side of the activities while the story progressed. This kind of engagement seems to me to be a major strength of Victorian State Ballet.

The dancxers were costumed by Felicity Kerr, Jill Kerr and Jan Tredrea. Costumes were mainly Arabian-style outfits in a stunning array of colours and decorative elements, although they were replaced by tutus for the women in the closing section. That closing section included a section that looked back to an earlier period, that is it included a pas de deux by the leading couple followed by variations and a coda from them. Then followed a finale in which all the characters joined in the dancing.

Lighting was by Martin Sierra who (perhaps?) was also responsible for the imagery that took the place of a standard backcloth. Especially in Act II the backgrounds were remarkable visions of the palace in which Princess Jasmin lived.

The production took me back to some recent reading on the development of ballet in Russia in the late nineteenth century. It also made me realise how much dance has changed since that era. Although this production of Aladdin was a more than interesting watch, we have moved on from the nineteenth century and are used to a less fussy and certainly more minimalist approach to ballet from what Aladdin showed us. I wished for a slightly less jampacked (for want of a better word) production.

Michelle Potter, 24 April 2026.

Featured image: Dancers of Victorian State Ballet in a moment near the end of the company’s presentation of Aladdin. Photo: © Enpointe Productions, 2025.

I was a guest of Victorian State Ballet at this performance.