The Nutcracker. Royal New Zealand Ballet

30 October 2025. St. James Theatre, Wellington
with New Zealand Symphony Orchestra
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Royal New Zealand Ballet’s Artistic Director, Ty King-Wall, has created a new production of The Nutcracker, a fun-filled frolicking entertainment set among images of New Zealand landscape, flora and fauna, childhood summer holidays in the bach, games on the beach, with sweets and treats for a major sugar rush and lashings of nostalgia.

The choreography is more than that though, and stitches in themes and sequences from the traditional story and productions as it traces the family context for the coming of age of Clara, the young girl growing to sense and glimpse the adult world. There are poignant undertones as the present is braided with an older family member’s memory of the past, the younger one’s glimpse of the future, and parents’ moment of danger when a child goes missing.

A key figure is Aunt Drosselmeyer, a famous dancer who returns from abroad with mysterious powers plus gifts for the family, including a Nutcracker doll for Clara, and a snow globe for brother Fritz. She also brings a film projector to show the children a cameo of a Commedia dell’Arte performance, which opens a door away from the everyday and into the faraway, wherever a child’s imagination will take us. The power and colour of Tchaikovsky’s large scale orchestral score, conducted by the invincible Hamish McKeich, feeds these forces and fills the theatre with atmosphere.

Inventive design by Tracy Grant-Lord and POW studios begins with the overture—a front curtain of a 1950s postcard (you possibly still have one in the attic?) a painting of native flowers and trees—kōwhai, mānuka, pōhutukawa, rātā, harakeke, tī and ponga. But wait, that kōwhai blossom moves in the gentlest of breezes, and then a mānuka flower shimmers. Now from behind a bush, a creature, part honey-bee part buzzy-bee, emerges in search of nectar. Better keep an eye on that as later in the ballet it will become a ski-plane to transport you to a mountainous kingdom of snow in our very own Southern Alps. It’s an inspired visual effect to show the country’s landscape from the plane’s windows as we travel.

There are numerous other design transformations—small tree grows into a giant forest, complete with red-eyed predators, possums, stoats and weasels to be exterminated. Smart soldiers from the Nutcracker army need additional help from Clara as she fires a weapon that exterminates the biggest bully Mouse King (I’d have called him a Rat as he falls into the foundations of the ballroom he was planning to build).

A ruru sounds a convincing call of warning, and gives me the shivers.

Catarina-Estevez-Collins in *The Nutcracker*. Royal New Zealand Ballet 2025. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

There are a number of standout performances on opening night, though it’s noteworthy that several alternative soloist casts are billed for the extended Wellington season and following national tour—testament to the company’s strengths. Caterina Estevez-Collins plays a charming and sensitive Clara. Laurynas Vejalis as the Nutcracker-turned-Prince dances with remarkable virtuosic technique but is able to overlay that with a lyricism that rides the music with meaning. Mayu Tanigaito as the Sugar Plum Fairy makes a most welcome return to the stage, and the pas de deux she and Vejalis dance is of rich quality and harmony, an act of love, and the highpoint of the evening.

Mayu-Tanigaito and Laurynas Vejalis in *The Nutcracker*. Royal New Zealand Ballet 2025. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

Character roles include Kirby Selchow as Aunt Drosselmeyer, carrying that with great style. Shaun James Kelly as a drunken kereru makes an amusing mess of trying to fly. Kihiro Kusukami as the powerful Storm Master dances up an impressive wind in the Land of Snow.

I have recently read The Dreaming Land—a memoir by Martin Edmond of his childhood in Ohakune in the 1950s. He writes of ‘the existence of a world of Maoridom about which most Pakeha knew nothing … there was simply no awareness among the people I knew that we lived cheek by jowl with a strong, coherent and richly complex culture. It is a lack I profoundly regret.’ This new choreography poignantly encompasses that notion by including the small but noteworthy role of Koro, the Maori grandfather of Clara, with Moana Nepia and Taiaroa Royal alternating in the part. Koro gifts a blanket to his granddaughter, and comforts her when she needs that. He dances for a fleeting moment with the memory of his late wife, a kind of ghost of Christmases past.

There is much energy in the band of children, and the ensembles of snowflakes, flowers and somewhat over-dressed confectionery, to make this a production that will draw enthusiastic crowds as it tours the country. Haere rā to them all.

Jennifer Shennan, 1 November 2025

Featured image: Characters from The Nutcracker. Royal New Zealand Ballet 2025. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

Main Character Energy. The Chaos Project 2025, QL2 Dance

24 October 2025. Belconnen Arts Centre, Canberra

It is interesting to watch QL2 Dance as it evolves under new director Alice Lee Holland. Productions take place in different spaces now. There seem, too, to be fewer dancers than previously, although I could be imagining that. Costumes seem to be more complex and differ more from work to work, although there is less visual background design. But the structure of the Chaos Projects, a long-standing aspect of annual programming by Ql2 Dance, has remained pretty much the same with several short works by professional choreographers making up an hour-long program. The situation is moving along.

For Chaos 2025 the focus was on what to me is a concept, or at least a word (set of words), that is not all that well known—‘main character energy’. The artistic director’s editorial message (yes, there was a printed program) tells us that ‘main character energy’ is a phrase that emerged in 2020 from social media trends (which is probably why it isn’t well known to me!). It means ‘dramatic self-confidence, obtrusive self-importance.’ Mmm … I know one young dancer who was not impressed with using ‘main character energy’ as a topic and decided not to continue with performing in this year’s project.

The evening opened with a march across the stage area by the younger dancers. They were full of energy and that energy continued as the opening work unfolded.

Young dancers performing in *Main Character Energy*. The Chaos Project, QL2 Dance, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

The opening and closing scenes, and one other section called Like Water, were choreographed by Alice Lee Holland. Other sections were choreographed by Ruby Ballantyne, Jack Ziesing and Olivia Wikner. The full program consisted of seven separate sections.

The standout section for me was Jack Ziesing’s Goblin Market made for the older students. It set out to show the darkness that might be part of the personality of a human being. But what I especially admired was Ziesing’s choreographic approach. He knew how to establish a choreographic order that made the most of the available space. That allowed the emerging young artists to work within their capabilities, but with an exceptional understanding of the structure that he was aiming to set up. The dancers looked quite professional and I suspect that Ziesing had also been firm with his coaching of the dancers as well as structuring Goblin Market so well. The work was a pleasure to watch and appreciate

QL2 dancers in Jack Ziesing’s *Goblin Market*. The Chaos Project, QL2 Dance, 2025. Photographer not identified.

While it is always good to see the annual Chaos Project, especially watching young people in a dance environment, I am hoping that future projects will focus on topics that do not rely on audiences (and perhaps some of the dancers) being social media addicts. Dance is more than that.

Michelle Potter, 28 October 2025

Featured image: Cover for Main Character Energy program. QL2 Dance Chaos Project, 2025.

I was a guest of QL2 Dance at this performance.

ECDysis. Mirramu Dance Company and guests from Taiwan

My review of ECDysis was published online by Canberra CityNews on 26 October 2025. 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 October 2025. Courtyard Studio. Canberra Theatre Centre

ECDysis celebrates Elizabeth Cameron Dalman’s decades of dance creation and performance. Dalman founded Adelaide-based Australian Dance Theatre (ADT) 60 years ago. She directed the company for 10 years before moving elsewhere. She is now based at Weereewa (Lake George) near Bungendore in New South Wales, where she established Mirramu Creative Arts Centre and Mirramu Dance Company (MDC).

The works on the ECDysis program were performed by members of Dalman’s current company along with colleagues from Taiwan. The program was diverse and comprised not only choreographed works but also film clips from across Dalman’s career including some recent discussion of her current interests. There were also words of introduction and explanation spoken before each dance work, given sometimes by Dalman herself, sometimes by Vivienne Rogis currently assistant director of MDC. Especially interesting was one section in which Dalman discussed her connections with Taiwan, whose dance culture has become an intrinsic part of her career.

(left) Elizabeth Dalman in *Welcome Dance*; (right) Vivienne Rogis in *Spiritual*. *ECDysis,* 2025. Photo: © Sigo Tseng

The dance aspect of the program began with Welcome Dance, created in 2025 by Dalman. It was relatively simple choreographically but was a charming introduction to what followed and quite moving given that, despite having been dancing for decades, Dalman has lost little of her stage presence.

The first half of the program focused on early works made for ADT in the 1960s and 1970s. Especially engrossing were excerpts from This Train, created in 1965 and danced to songs by Peter, Paul and Mary. It demonstrated the basic elements of Dalman’s choreography, which have stayed with her but which she has developed over the years: beautifully shaped and placed arms, movement that is carried through the whole body, and the exceptional projection of an emotional response to movement. The dancer that stood out for me in demonstrating those elements was Miranda Wheen, although everyone involved in This Train gave a moving demonstration of Dalman’s early approach.

After interval the program focused largely on the years Dalman has spent at Weereewa, and the development of her connections with Taiwanese dancers. This second section included not only works created by Dalman but also some by her colleagues including Vivienne Rogis, Miranda Wheen and Peng Hsiao-yin (Grace).

A standout item on the second half was Broken Umbrella from a longer work, Tango Lament, and was made in 2008 by Miranda Wheen. Danced in large part by Wheen with what was indeed a very broken umbrella, it was created in response to the closure of a university dance program. Wheen’s choreography had moments of fast-paced movement juxtaposed with slower sections and her dancing was technically outstanding and conveyed an engrossing involvement with the topic.

In addition, the second half contained some exceptional visual elements in the 2005 work ‘Mountain Skirts’ from Bride in the Desert choreographed and performed by Wheen, Rogis and Amanda Tutalo. The costumes (designer not given) lent themselves to visions of billowing cloth.

Throughout the program it was particularly interesting to see some of the aspects of life and culture that have inspired Dalman’s work. Homage to Botticelli from 1969 was inspired by a visit to Florence and Dalman made a surprising link between the Renaissance era of Botticelli and aspects of life in the 1960s.

Silk from 2002, danced to music by Andreas Dalman, was inspired by the creation of silken fabric from its beginnings to its use as a fashion item. It had an outstanding performance from Christopher Chu (as a silkworm?). Refugee (Flight for Life—Destroyed) from 2018 was commissioned by the Taiwanese Youth Foundation and was performed by Amanda Tutalo and Fu-rong Chen. It examined difficulties, including death, faced by those fleeing certain cultures.

ECDysis closed with a new work, Family Tree, newly choreographed by the members of the ECDysis creative team to music by Sigur Ros. The evening, danced against a simple drop cloth lit in different colours for each work, was an exceptional example of creativity and cross-cultural connections.

Elizabeth Dalman (centre) and Mirramu Dance Company dancers in a moment from *Family Tree*. *ECDysis,* 2025. Photo: © Sigo Tseng

Michelle Potter, 26 October 2025.

Featured image: A moment from Mountain Skirts. ECDysis, 2025. Photo: © Sigo Tseng

I was a guest of Elizabeth Cameron and Friends/Canberra Theatre Centre at this performance.

Continuum. Sydney Dance Company

22 October 2025. Roslyn Packer Theatre, Walsh Bay (Sydney)

I loved the title of Sydney Dance Company’s latest production—Continuum. It was a triple bill of works from three choreographers, Stephen Page, Rafael Bonachela and Tra Mi Dinh and It encouraged me to think on the development (and continuation) of the choreographic and dancerly art that has characterised Sydney Dance Company over the several decades of its existence. Page danced with the company in its earliest days before going on to direct Bangarra Dance Theatre; Rafael Bonachela is the company’s current director; and Tra Mi Dinh, the youngest of the three, was the recipient of the Keir Choreographic Award in 2022, which resulted in a commission to her from Sydney Dance Company.

The evening opened with Bonachela’s Spell, a work he says was inspired by singer Alice Smith and her cover presentation of I put a spell on you. Along with this cover, extra music included a choral arrangement by Olafur Arnalds, and a suite of three songs for solo violin from composer Bryce Dessner. In his program notes Bonachela commented on the impetus he derived from the music and noted that he was aiming to build ‘elements of compression and release within the choreography to build a series of dances that are spells.’

Although I’m not sure that the notion of spells came across strongly enough, the work clearly showed the movement style we have come to expect from Bonachela—powerful movement that was filled with surprising lifts and twisting bodies. But there were quite a number of sections that took place in strong darkness and I have never really understood why this is such a common occurrence these days. Having said that, a spectacular sequence occurred towards the end when the colour red dominated, not just in costumes (Kelsey Lee) but in lighting (Damien Cooper) and in a haze of red that continued to descend from the upper part of the space.

A moment from Rafaela Bonachela’s *Spell* in *Continuum*. Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But for me the highlight of Spell was a section early in in the piece when two groups of four dancers engaged in unison work, sometimes together, at other times as two separate groups, and in much brighter lighting. I have always admired Bonachela’s ability to create unison movement, and the dancers responded beautifully to the changing structural groupings, as they always do.

After a brief pause the second work, Tra Mi Dinh’s Somewhere between ten and fourteen, took the stage. The opening few minutes consisted of a flurry of artists dancing together. The audience loved the opening and cheered as the curtain went up and the dancing was on show. The opening sequence also opened up Dinh’s choreographic style to those of us who were seeing her work for the first time. Pretty much every part of the body came into play, but there was strong emphasis on arms—lifting, bending, dropping, linking. And as a whole the choreography was fast, complex and fascinating to watch.

Somewhere between ten and fourteen is, we are told, ‘a study on dusk’ and the ‘transient yet expansive moments between day and night’. The variety of blue colour in the costumes (Aleisa Jelbart) recognised this as did, I believe, the fast-changing nature of the choreography. I felt exhausted, but thrilled, at the end of the work and I look forward to seeing more of Dinh’s work.

The third work, Unungkati Yantatja: one with the other, which centred on the notion of ‘the universality of breath’, came from Stephen Page working with an onstage group of musicians including William Barton on yidaki (Barton also sang) and the Omega Ensemble. In an unusual creative move (unusual for Page) the work began with examining the ‘story’ behind the music, which was already written (Page noted in the program that he had only rarely worked with existing music). But for me the major fascination of the work was that it was a major collaborative venture with, in addition to the live music, exceptional designs (Jennifer Irwin) reflecting Indigenous patterns and a boomerang-inspired section of the setting from Jacob Nash.

William Barton with dancers in a scene from *Unungkati Yantatja: one with the other* in *Continuum*. Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

It was great to see Page’s work once more with its very grounded movement, and his ongoing interest in collaboration as an intrinsic element in a dance work. I was also especially thrilled to see Ryan Pearson now dancing with Sydney Dance Company after an earlier association with Bangarra. Pearson’s contribution to Page’s work was exceptional and was made especially clear in a solo he performed towards the end of the work. He danced with such a strong immersive quality as he engaged with the choreography and the others on stage.

Continuum was an engrossing production. Each work was quite different, and it was absorbing to watch three quite different choreographic styles and methods of engaging with music and design.

Michelle Potter, 25 October 2025

Featured image: Opening scene from Tra Mi Dinh’s Somewhere between ten and fourteen, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

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

Resonance. James Batchelor + Collaborators

My review of Resonance was published online by Canberra CityNews on 11 October 2025. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

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10 October 2025. Courtyard Studio, Canberra Theatre Centre

Choreographer James Batchelor has a particular interest in how approaches to dance are passed down from generation to generation. Audiences caught a glimpse of that interest relatively recently in 2022-2023 with Batchelor’s production, Short Cuts to Familiar Places. It focused on the work of Gertrud Bodenwieser, and those who worked with and were influenced by her in Australia. Its Canberra showing is reviewed at this link.

Resonance continues Batchelor’s interest in how movement is passed on across generations. It focuses on the legacy of the late dancer and choreographer, Tanja Liedtke, who was tragically killed in a road accident in 2007 just as she was about to take on the directorship of Sydney Dance Company.

Batchelor’s work is never straightforward and in fact it creates a multitude of potential meanings, both as his works progress and after the show is over. This characteristic is very much on show in Resonance

Resonance was an immersive work with the audience seated in a single row around the edges of the performing space. As we entered the space we noticed the performers, who represented three dance generations, sitting on the floor ready to start the show. The work proper began with members of the cast, in particular those who had worked with or known Liedtke in some way, taking a microphone and delivering short comments (sometimes difficult to hear clearly unfortunately) on their impressions of her and her work. Some accompanied their spoken comments with movement or poses they recalled from Liedtke’s work.

Kristina Chan with microphone in *Resonance*, Canberra 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

Slowly the rest of the cast rose from where they were seated and began to dance. The movement was gentle, curved and liquid in its flow. But, as the work progressed, individual comments became in a kind of second section—a conversation between various dancers—and the movement became faster and more dramatic (and perhaps a little too long).

In a third and final section in the development of Resonance, the verbal comments ceased and the choreography became stronger, and even more dramatic and powerful. At times the choreography was quite static and danced by just a small group until the final moments when the full cast filled the performing space with determined, fast, furious, and individualistic movement.

Final moments from *Resonance*, Canberra 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

Various media comments about Resonance have suggested that Batchelor’s choreography for the work is meditative. But for me it wasn’t the choreography that was meditative, it was the development of Batchelor’s thoughts about Liedtke that had that particular quality. Those thoughts moved from Batchelor’s initial speculations about her approach, to his final feeling that her legacy was a powerful addition to dance in Australia.

As far as the choreography was concerned, I wondered whether some of it was improvisation, and also how much of it came from Batchelor and how much from the dancers themselves. It was highly individualistic, sometimes even uncanny in its structure. It always seemed to reflect the particular skills of each dancer rather than those of a single choreographer.

I was especially impressed by the dancer Anton who was totally and utterly involved throughout, whether he was performing dancerly movement or an occasional series of gymnastic-style steps (such as push-ups). Kristina Chan also attracted my attention with her beautiful fluid approach to movement.

A driving score from Morgan Hickinbotham gave the work added strength. Costumes designed by one of the dancers, Theo Clinkard, left me wondering a little. I’m not sure why they were a combination of daytime leisure gear with translucent chiffon-style drapes added occasionally. The additions were quite beautiful but I’m not sure about the meaning they were meant to arouse.

Emma Batchelor wearing Theo Clinkard’s full costume in *Resonance*, Canberra 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

I didn’t know Liedtke or her work, other than through a streamed version from 2017 of Construct. But Resonance suggests to me that she was highly unconventional, perhaps even enigmatic in her approaches to dance. Resonance was like a wake-up call encouraging us to look further into her background and approach.

James Batchelor in a moment from *Resonance*,
Canberra 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

Michelle Potter, 12 October 2025

I was a guest of James Batchelor + Collaborators/Canberra Theatre Centre at this performance.

Resonance was supported by the Tanja Liedtke Foundation and other organisations. It featured dancers from across generations including, in the case of the Canberra production, dancers from the Quantum Leap Youth Ensemble

Featured image: James Batchelor with Chloe Chignell in a moment from
Resonance, Sydney 2025. Photo: © @wendellt

Ballet and books in Brisbane

Dangerous Liaisons. Queensland Ballet
4 October 2025 (evening). Talbot Theatre, Thomas Dixon Centre, Brisbane

I was not invited to review Liam Scarlett’s Dangerous Liaisons in its 2025 revival by Queensland Ballet so I felt no reason to stay when I disliked what I was watching. I left at interval. It was just the third time in about 35 years of reviewing dance performances across Australia and around the world that I have left a dance performance before it was over. Why on this occasion?

The work Dangerous Liaisons is based on the 1782 novel Les Liaisons dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos. But on the whole this 2025 presentation reminded me of a musical comedy item with an emphasis on sexual activities. The movements and gestures indicating sexual desire were obvious and a highly dominant feature throughout (the first act at least).

Fine re the sexual emphasis. That’s part of the story! But who were all those characters? With one or two exceptions it was not at all clear, as the complex narrative unfolded, who individual dancers were representing. Understanding the action and the multitude of characters taking the stand, as it were, was made more difficult by the lack of any form of easily available written material. We all know that explanations and descriptions of works these days are available online via a QR code, but in the olden days of Queensland Ballet a sheet of paper with brief but vital information of cast and storyline was always available. Even a full printed program was also there for those who wanted one. And how frustrating it is when the person sitting next to you turns on a mobile phone to check something out in the middle of the performance.

I have to mention that there was some excellent dancing being presented, including some group scenes even if it wasn’t clear what was being celebrated or criticised. In particular Georgia Swan was outstanding as the leading female character, the wealthy widow, the Marquise de Merteuil. There was also a male dancer who did not have a major role but whose performance attracted my attention. His technique was excellent but it was his onstage presence, including the manner in which he connected with the audience, that was thrilling to watch. But who was he? I can’t recall having seen him before but I had no way of knowing immediately who he is as there were no photographs of the dancers that were easily available. I should add here that, as I was waiting for a taxi to take me back to my hotel, several people came to the desk in the foyer—it was interval—asking for a printed item of information. They were advised to go and open the QR code!

Georgia Swan in Liam Scarlett’s *Dangerous Liaisons*. Queensland Ballet, 2025. Photo: © David Kelly

It was also, I believe, a really bad move by Queensland Ballet to use recorded music. Someone surely must realise that resident conductor Nigel Gaynor has always had a major input into performances he conducts. He works with what is happening onstage, including how the dancers are performing, in a way that no recording can do (even though the recording used in the 2025 presentation was a recording conducted by Gaynor, it’s just not the same). To make matters worse Gaynor is leaving his post as conductor at the end of 2025. Although I am not entirely clear about the reasons for the move, it apparently has something to do with the financial situation in which Queensland Ballet finds itself. (Happy to be corrected here if I am totally wrong re the reason).

I attended Dangerous Liaisons as a member of the general public. My ticket cost $127. Read my review of the 2019 production of Dangerous Liaisons, to which I was invited and which I thought was exceptional. Here is the link.

See below for a list of publications in which my dance writing and reviews have been published (in addition to the material I have posted on this website since I set it up in 2009).*

The books

But all was not lost. While in Brisbane I visited that amazing second hand book shop, Archives Fine Books in Charlotte Street in the city’s CBD. I have never really been in a second hand bookshop that has such a wealth of items on every imaginable subject. I ended up buying four dance books, three of which were previously unknown to me, and one of which was a book about an exhibition that had a major impact on our understanding of the activities of Serge Diaghilev. The books are:

Buckle, Richard. In Search of Diaghilev (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1955)
Collins, Richard. Behind the Bolshoi Curtain (London: William Kimber, 1974)
Dodd, Craig. The Performing World of the Dancer (London: Breslich & Foss, 1981)
La Fosse, Robert (with Andrew Mark Wentink). Nothing to Hide (New York: Donald I. Fine Inc., 1987)

I started my reading with Behind the Bolshoi Curtain and was instantly taken by the personal manner in which Englishman Richard Collins, who spent four years working in Moscow with various sections of the Bolshoi school and company, interacted with his Russian colleagues and vice-versa. There were some issues that were a little concerning (if interesting in a particular way) but it was a ‘can’t put down’ book in the way it showed a side of ballet and dancers that we don’t usually read about in other Bolshoi-focused publications. I am looking forward to moving on to Richard Buckle’s work on his 1950s exhibition on Diaghilev’s contribution to our understanding of the Ballets Russes.

Michelle Potter, 6 October 2025

Featured image: Cover of Richard Collins’ Behind the Bolshoi Curtain.

*Here is a list of the magazines, newspapers and journals in which my reviews have appeared:

The Australian, Australian Art Review, Australian Book Review, Ballet News, Brolga, The Bulletin, Canberra CityNews, The Canberra Times, Choreography and Dance, Current News from the Library for the Performing Arts, Dance Australia, Dance Chronicle, Dance Forum, Dance Research, DanceTabs (formerly ballet.co.uk), The Dancing Times, Jahresmitteilungen von Tanzplan Deutschland, Journal of the Australian Society of Archivists, Limelight, Muse, Museum National, The National Library of Australia Magazine, National Library of Australia News, The Sydney Morning Herald and Voices.

There are other lists of books I have written as well as lists of chapters in books and theatre programs in which my writing has appeared. In addition, there are hundreds of posts on this website, which this year has, according to Google Analytics, already received 105,000 visits from Australia and across the world. I’m just not sure why Queensland Ballet no longer regards me as a critic worthy of an invitation to review.

Les Patineurs. The Royal Ballet

via the ROH streaming platform

Frederick Ashton’s 1937 creation, Les Patineurs (The Skaters), was first seen in Australia (as far as I am aware) in 1958 during the Royal Ballet’s tour to Australia and New Zealand. It entered the repertoire of the Australian Ballet in 1970 when it was first seen in Adelaide and then in various Australian venues. Below are two images from the 1958 Royal Ballet production in Australia, taken by Walter Stringer and now part of the collection in the National Library of Australia (NLA), and two from the 1970 Australian Ballet production, again by Walter Stringer in the NLA collection.* LInks to the NLA catalogue are also below.

Above left: https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-146861023/view; above right: https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/2213080, Below left: https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-146891471/view; below right: https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/2472972

I first saw Les Patineurs in Australia in 1970, a long time ago now, but can’t really remember if I saw it again somewhere. So I was pleased to be able to go to the ROH site to remind myself, not so much of the ‘story’ (which is quite slight and not really the main focus of the work), but of the choreography.

The production on the streaming platform is a filmed version of a Royal Ballet production from 2010 and I was thrilled, to tell the truth, to see who was dancing in that production. The Blue Boy, who takes on some of the most challenging of Ashton’s choreographic input, was Steven McRae, seen in the featured image to this post. I have admired McRae’s dancing for a number of years now. I really didn’t see much of him until around 2016 and onwards so it was interesting to see him in an earlier stage of his career. After a bit of research I discovered he was promoted to principal with the Royal in 2009 and his exceptional technique was well and truly visible in 2010.

His solo as the Blue Boy had some unusual moments. In particular there was a section or two where he performed a series of entrechats when his legs, rather than opening to the side to execute the crossing of the limbs, opened to the front/back. It was surprising to see this variation on the much-performed entrechat.

His technical strength was again exceptionally obvious in the closing moments of the production when he executed a long series of fouettés and grands pirouettes à la seconde, which he was required to continue until the curtain had fallen at the end of the performance.

But not only was McRae technically strong, his characterisation was thoroughly engaging as well.

While perhaps it was McRae who stole the show for me, it was a treat to see other Royal Ballet dancers in relatively early stages of their career development. Sarah Lamb for example was beautiful to watch in the pas de deux with Rupert Pennefather as was Akane Takada, whose work I have also enjoyed over several years. Takada performed as one of the Blue Girls. Then of course there was Liam Scarlett, whose career in Australia and New Zealand gave so many of us so much pleasure. Scarlett danced as one of the ensemble of skaters.

Samantha Raine and Akane Takada as the Blue Girls in Frederick Ashton’s *Les Patineurs*. The Royal Ballet 2010. Photo: The Royal Ballet streaming platform.

While Les Patineurs may not be one of Ashton’s most deeply affecting narrative works, choreographically it shows Ashton’s uncompromising approach to movement and his sense of attack, choreographic attack that is. This 2010 production was a huge pleasure to watch and opened up for me various avenues of research. The streaming also offers three extra short examinations of aspects of the work, including an interview with McRae and one with Lamb and Pennefather on various aspects of Ashton’s approach. Well worth watching.

Les Patineurs, 2010.

Michelle Potter, 28 September 2025

Featured image: Steven McRae as the Blue Boy in Frederick Ashton’s Les Patineurs. The Royal Ballet 2010. Photo: The Royal Ballet streaming platform.

*Only head and shoulder shots from 1970 by Walter Stringer are currently available (or suitable) for reproduction.

Postscript: Putting it mildly, I was surprised to read the following ‘AI overview’ after I entered ‘Liam Scarlett Les Patineurs’ into a search engine:

‘Liam Scarlett choreographed the ballet Les Patineurs for The Royal Ballet, which premiered in 2010. He was a British choreographer who had a successful career, but died by suicide in April 2021 following allegations of sexual misconduct.’

Everything in the first sentence is incorrect and, just to comment further on the wording above, it is a direct copy and paste from what emerged from my online query. AI is a worry that’s for sure!

Duck Pond. Circa

18 September 2025. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

Circa’s latest production, Duck Pond, is advertised as a reimagining of the ballet Swan Lake, a reimagining of that longstanding, much-loved ballet as a circus spectacular. Other moments in the narrative, we are told, make reference to the work of Hans Christian Andersen, in particular The Ugly Duckling.

The narrative follows the activities of a Prince who meets the Ugly Duckling and briefly falls in love, but then out of love, with this character. There is a pillow fight in which feathers fall from the pillows and cover the floor. They are swept up by a ‘duck army’. The Black Swan appears and the Prince falls for her. But when the duckling turns into a swan and begins to fly, the Black Swan and the new White Swan fall in love with each other.

The production ended in real time as the performers began clearing the stage. They rolled up the tarkett flooring, removed their costumes down to flesh-coloured underwear and performed some circus tricks with a Cyr wheel and with hoops. They then began taking various poses while inside movable box-like structures.

From the closing moments of *Duck Pond*. Photo: © Pia Johnson

The connections with Swan Lake, and even the stories of Andersen, were far from the strongest aspect of the show. The real highlight of Duck Pond was the acrobatic feats of the artists of Circa. It was a treat to watch the flexibility of the artists and their ability to put themselves and their bodies in positions at which we non-acrobats can only gasp. I was impressed too with the acting ability of every performer, whether it was the expressions of love between some of the characters or the humorous activities of the ‘duck army’ sweeping up the feathers that got scattered over the stage floor after the pillow fight. Even the so-called burlesque activities of the performers at the end of the show, as they pushed themselves forward in a sexual manner, were impressive, if somewhat surprising.

A circus moment from *Duck Pond*. Photo: © Pia Johnson

But I wonder why Swan Lake was taken up by the director Yaron Lifschitz as the apparent focus of the show? The narrative wandered all over the place and was very inconsistent in its references. It made Swan Lake seem like some crazy old story. In my opinion it would have been preferable had Circa made up its own story rather than trying to mess with Swan Lake and other bits and pieces. I have always enjoyed Circa’s productions in the past, but Duck Pond was just a mash-up and turned me in another direction.

Michelle Potter, 20 September 2025

Featured image: Before the performance began the front curtain was lit with the image of a white feather. Photo: Michelle Potter

The handout (program?) that the audience received was far from satisfactory. It was nothing more than a brief synopsis of the action. The information below dealing with costumes, lighting, sound score, cast and so forth was uplifted from elsewhere.

Cast & Creatives
Created by Yaron Lifschitz and the Circa ensemble.

Director, Stage Design Yaron Lifschitz
Composer and Sound Designer Jethro Woodward
Costume Designer Libby McDonnell
Lighting Designer Alexander Berlage
Associate Director Marty Evans
Dramaturg/Associate Choreographer Rani Luther
Voice Over Artist Elise Greig
Footage of brutal swan fight used with the kind permission of Carl Bovis.
CAST:
Oliver Layher, Tristan St John, Jordan Twartz, Harley Timmermans, Adam Strom, Darby Sullivan, Asha Colless, Anais Stewart, Clara Scudder-Davis, Maya Davies, Sophie Seccombe, Rose Symons

I was a guest of Canberra Theatre Centre at this performance.

Superposition. Gabriel Sinclair and Jazmyn Carter

My review of Superposition was published online by Canberra CityNews on 13 September 2025. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

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12 September 2025. Courtyard Studio, Canberra Theatre Centre

A new event on the calendar of the Canberra Theatre Centre, a two-week season of new creations across the field of the performing arts, began on 12 September 2025. Called The Independents—Festival of New Work, its first week included a dance duet called Superposition from independent artists Gabriel Sinclair and Jazmyn Carter.

I have to admit that the word ‘superposition’ was not previously part of my vocabulary, but I was curious to know what it might mean in relation to a new dance work with that word as its title. With a little research, I discovered that superposition was basically a scientific term, common in physics and mathematics. It referred to the combination of two distinct physical phenomena of the same type so they coexist with each other. But in a simpler description it might mean placing one object in the position of another to show that the two coincide.

The dance concept was brought to life by Sinclair and Carter. They began their performance in a circle of light projected onto the floor of the Courtyard Studio of the Canberra Theatre Centre by lighting designer Rhiley Winnett. At first the dancers remained in the centre of this small circle of light but, as the work progressed, they began moving to the edges of the circle and back again, with the circle of light expanding and contracting as necessary. Aspects of the lighting design changed slightly on occasions throughout the piece with coloured light briefly shining down on the dancers and affecting the colour of their costumes (and their skin). But the circle remained.

As the work began, the movement showed the dancers’ arms and hands twisting and turning around and across each other. It was small but complex movement done with arms and hands remaining close to the body but never touching. Slowly, very slowly, the movement of the arms became broader and more expansive and the interaction became more intense. But the dancers continued to perform without physical contact. Here was the superposition of the title—two figures coexisting but not actually connecting.

While the movement was somewhat varied in the speed at which it was performed, and while the complexity of the movement continued throughout without any physical contact, perhaps what gave the performance a particular interest in relation to the concept of superposition was that the dancers were human beings rather than inanimate objects. Occasionally, very occasionally, it seemed that the movement involved a human emotion. This was especially the case with Sinclair’s performance when there were occasions when his face and upper body seemed to be showing some kind of emotion. I got the feeling that he was actually engaging with Carter in a way that was beyond physicality. This doesn’t happen with rocks, waves and other aspects of nature that are often involved in scientific superposition.

A score, created I understand by Gabriel Sinclair, was basically background sound rather than a musical accompaniment. Media notes describe it as a ‘reactive, cybernetic soundscape’. It consisted of a wide variety of sounds, sometimes soft, sometimes loud, sometimes grinding or crashing, but with pretty much everything recalling day to day noises.

For me the work, at approximately 60 minutes, was a little too long. I think the point was made quite early on, although it was quite fascinating to speculate on the remarkable complexity of the movement, and the even more remarkable fact that the dancers never touched each other despite that complexity. But my mind wandered.

It was the costumes by Leanne Carter that kept me interested. They consisted of long skirts that moved beautifully, and close-fitting, long-sleeved tops that never got in the way of the movement of the hands and arms. Made from an assortment of materials of different patterns and colours, with a strong presence of red, they were a highlight. Thankfully!

Michelle Potter, 13 September 2025.

I was a guest of Canberra Theatre Centre at this performance.

GEMS. L.A. Dance Project

7 September, 2025 (matinee). The Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane Festival

Brisbane Festival media announcements for Benjamin Millepied’s Gems have frequently stressed that Gems, a work in three parts, reflects George Balanchine’s Jewels, also a three part work. It is an interesting, but perhaps confusing comment. Millepied of course danced with New York City Ballet (NYCB) and I was lucky enough to see him perform with NYCB in Jewels in 2010. Then I was impressed with his dancing in ‘Rubies’, the second section of Jewels. I referred to him in my review as ‘a boisterous Benjamin Millepied’.

Had the media not been so insistent that Millepied’s Gems reflected Balanchine’s Jewels I doubt I would have thought of making a connection. But Gems was not only a work in three parts but was made in collaboration with Van Cleef and Arpels, an upmarket and creative jewellery organisation. Charles Arpels, a co-founder of the company, was in part responsible for the development of Balanchine’s Jewels, so a connection of sorts is not beyond the realms of possibility..

The standout section for me was the second item, ‘Hearts and Arrows’, which Millepied made in 2014. Performed to a selection of music by Philip Glass, with arresting costumes of black tops of various designs with black and white skirts or shorts for the dancers, it showed Millepied’s beautifully constructed choreography that pushed the boundaries of classical dance into a contemporary mode of groupings and poses.

A moment in the section ‘Hearts and Arrows’ from *Gems*. Photographer not identified.

I was staggered by the brilliant dancing of one of the dancers (unknown to me by name but the tallest of the eight dancers who made up the company on this occasion). The pirouettes, tours en l’air and other airborne steps on view were so well placed and perfectly executed. Just spectacular.

The least arresting section for me was the first item on the program, ‘Reflections’ originally made in 2013 and performed to music by David Lang. It was danced in front of a bright red backcloth with the word STAY emblazoned in white across it, and on a red floorcloth with white writing on it that was hard to see from close up (I was sitting in row F of the stalls). One really needed to be seated upstairs in a gallery seat to look down on the wording.

It was not easy to focus on the choreography when the words seemed to take over (visual concept by Barbara Kruger). The writing on the floorcloth was something about ‘thinking of you’ and program notes say the section concerned ‘presence and absence, desire and memory’. But it would have had more effect I think had the so-called visual concept not pushed the choreography into the background. In addition the costumes were not as theatrical as I would have expected. Those track pants (not seen in the header image but very obvious in Brisbane) were not attractive.

The final section, ‘On the Other Side’, was also performed to a score from Philip Glass and took place in front of backcloth showing an art work by Mark Bradford.

A moment in the section ‘On the Other Side’ from *Gems*. Photographer not identified.

Program notes say this section traced ‘the bonds between individuals and the quiet strength of collective experience’. It was perhaps a trifle long but it showed Millepied again working with classically trained bodies and making complex groupings, and often focussing on very moving moments of stillness.

A breathtaking moment occurred (more than once too), for example, when one of the dancers took a pose with upper body and head bent back but with one arm stretching forward. The pose was held for several seconds before the dancer folded her body into another pose. Simplicity perfected.

The true highlight of Gems, however, was the exceptional dancing of all eight dancers throughout the three sections. There was quite a bit of ‘grounded’ work, which was something that Balanchine avoided but which is commonplace in contemporary dance. But what stood out was the way the bodies of all eight dancers were managed by Millepied in ways that did to a certain extent recall a Balanchine choreographic mode, but that had been manipulated in quite complex ways to create a new, contemporary look.

Shortly after Balanchine’s Jewels was first presented in New York in 1967 a journalist wrote, ‘Though there’s no important meaning in the fact that Jewels is the “first abstract three-act ballet”, there’s lots of good copy in the phrase.’* I suspect that comparisons between Gems and Jewels is also ‘good copy’, but is perhaps just an unecessary comparison.

The three sections of Gems were put together for the first time for the Brisbane Festival. The work had much to offer in opening up a look at how dance can absorb much, and how in the hands of an exceptional choreographer can be developed into a particularly different mode of expression.

Michelle Potter, 8 September 2025

Featured image: A moment from ‘Reflections’ the first section of Benjamin Millepied’s Gems.

All images used in this review come from internet sources and are not necessarily from the Brisbane performances.

*See the section on Jewels in The International Dictionary of Ballet (Detroit: St James Press, 1993). Volume 1: A-K, p. 721.

I attended Gems as a member of the general public. My ticket cost $120.