Flora. The Australian Ballet & Bangarra Dance Theatre

8 April 2026 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House.

Almost 20 years ago, in October 1997, Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet collaborated on a production, Rites, choreographed by Stephen Page, then artistic director of Bangarra. It was a landmark event and the work has since been restaged and has toured and been the subject of a major exhibition in Melbourne. Flora, choreographed by current director of Bangarra, Frances Rings, follows that collaborative tradition.

Flora, in typical Bangarra style, consists of several sections (in this case 12) making up a storyline. The storyline focuses in this case on the evolution of Australian flora beginning with ‘Mother Seed’ and moving eventually to ‘Bush Flowers’. Early moments show bodies representing seeds or young plants entering the earth (stage) from above. As the work continues various moments in the progress of growth are presented.

Artists of Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet in an early scene from *Flora*, 2026. Photo: © Kate Longley

For me the highlight of the work was the section that opened Act II. Called ‘10 Days’, it represented the actions of Sir Joseph Banks who, while in Australia in the early years of British colonisation, removed hundreds of species of Indigenous plants from their natural environment and took them back to England. The program notes state, ‘The collection of species and objects to display in museums reduces First Nations People and cultures to artifact status.’

The removal of native species by Sir Joseph Banks. *Flora*, Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud.

Both the set (Elizabeth Gadsby) and costumes (Grace Lillian Lee) for this section were exceptional and, in addition, it was at this stage that political elements surfaced strongly. I am not sure, however, that the reference to the removal of the notion of ‘Aboriginal people’ from the official (political) understanding of the Australian community (as unbelievable as that policy was) needed to be so stark and loudly presented. But then Rings usually makes no bones about her determination to make a political statement through her works.

The final section ‘Bush Flowers’ was another highlight, largely (once more) as a result of Grace Lillian Lee’s totally spectacular costumes. But I did wonder, given their emphasis on extensive detail, if they were difficult to move around in, but the dancers performed effortlessly.

Bush flowers from the final section of *Flora*. Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud.

Although there was much to admire in Flora, especially from a visual point of view and from the accompanying score composed by William Barton, the choreography did not move me. While the movement was always fluid and made excellent use of the space of the stage (on, around and above it), the movement itself often seemed without any reference to the actions it was accompanying. If the online descriptive analysis had not been written (and read) would we have had much of an idea, especially in the early sections, about what was taking place?

Very recently I read a book called Diaghilev. Creator of the Ballets Russes, which I had not seen before. Edited by Ann Kodicek, it contained articles by several authors, including one by Irina Vershinina on the music Diaghilev chose for the works he commissioned. In that article I read a comment from designer Léon Bakst in which he said, ‘Our dances, our settings, our costumes—they are all so exciting because they reflect that most elusive and secret thing—the rhythm of life.’ I really wish I had read the comment (and the book) before I saw Flora. The concept of ‘the rhythm of life’ would perhaps have allowed me to see Rings’ choreography in a different light rather than with the frustration that kept rising in my mind.

Michelle Potter, 12 April 2026

Featured image: A scene from Flora. The Australian Ballet and Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2026. Photo: © Kate Longley

I watched this performance as a member of the general public. I paid $207 for my ticket.

Messa da Requiem. Queensland Ballet

27 March 2026. Glasshouse Theatre, Brisbane

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 29 March 2026

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

I was a guest of Queensland Ballet at this performance.

Swan? Lauren Brady

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

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25 March 2026. The B, Queanbeyan

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 26 March 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Douglas’ program note:

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

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

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

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

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

Jennifer Shennan, 16 March 2026

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

Impulse. Australian Dance Party

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 15 March 2026

Featured image: Dancers from Australian Dance Party in a moment from Impulse. Photo: © Michelle Potter

Corybantic Games. The Royal Ballet (2018)

via the ROH streaming platform

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 15 March 2026

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

Macbeth. Royal New Zealand Ballet

25 February 2026. St James Theatre, Wellington

Alice Topp’s version of Macbeth begins, as does the Shakespearean play itself, with three characters interacting with each other. They are witches in Shakespeare’s play, but called influencers in Topp’s ballet and, while Shakespeare’s witches are ‘serious’ individuals, the influencers are hilarious and somewhat crazy persons with phones that they frequently use. They are also (apparently) people with social media accounts.

The three influencers, (l-r) Shaun James Kelly, KIrby Selchow and Ruby Ryburn. *Macbeth*, Royal New Zealand Ballet 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

This difference at the very beginning marks where Topp’s production sits in relation to her approach to the Shakesperean Macbeth story. She puts before us, dramatically at all times, the concepts that Shakespeare develops—power, ambition, determination, the disintegration of those concepts as time passes, and more— but she puts those concepts in a different era.

Choreographically Topp has created a work that moves in a fast and furious manner, which has audience members on the edge of their seats for two hours. It’s not a relaxing night at the theatre! But it certainly holds one’s attention for those two hours (and even after the two hours are over). Her characters mostly share the names of the Shakesperean characters and have relationships that are similar to their Shakesperean counterparts. But Topp’s characters are different human beings. They belong to a contemporary era and certainly display an opulence that makes their ambitions credible. But, nevertheless, we see, as in the play, that Macbeth’s desire to rule is strong, and with input from Lady Macbeth we see his way of bringing to a deathly end those who stand in the way of his achieving his desired goal.

Macbeth is filled, as we have come to expect from Topp, with exceptional pas de deux work, especially between the main characters. The lifts she creates continue to surprise in the way the dancers make use of the space around the two bodies, and I was taken by the way the men held the women (something I hadn’t really fully noticed before). It’s not just around the waist!

In addition to male/female duets there were several occasions when two male characters danced together. These moments were equally as spectacular. There were also group sections when the various characters danced together. These sections were also quite fast and mostly highly animated.

One of the strongest moments for me, however, was the death of Lady Macbeth whom we see sleepwalking, talking to herself and trying to remove blood stains from her hands (‘out, damned spot’ according to Shakespeare). We watch as she drinks a concocted liquid and dies in her bathtub, the very place we had first seen her in in Act I.

Ana Gallardo Lobaina as Lady Macbeth in her death scene. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Equally as powerful was the death of Macbeth who was killed by those he had opposed. His death happened as he was pushing himself up a slope (now that’s metaphorical!). But his journey was cut short by those standing on a structure above him, who were furiously banging spear-like items on the ground they occupied. Macbeth slid backwards to the floor leaving a trail of blood behind him. Branden Reiners as Macbeth had an enormous role to play and did so in a spectacular and completely engrossing manner. Just amazing.

The death of Macbeth. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

It is also interesting (to me at least) that Topp manages to make her works expand one’s thoughts beyond the obvious. There were at least two scenes in Topp’s Macbeth where the cast gathered to dine and celebrate a particular occasion. They sat around a long table with the majority sitting along the upstage edge of the table. On both occasions I couldn’t help but think of Leonardo da Vinci’s painting The Last Supper. The situation onstage made me think that Macbeth’s end was near, which of course it was.

In addition to Topp’s narrative development and choreographic input, this Macbeth is a masterful collaboration. Jon Buswell’s lighting and set design fit beautifully with the contemporary (modernistic?) approach of Topp. His simple set of a series of moveable screens is stunning to look at closely. The screens, which form both various backdrops and wings or side screens, are made up of multiple small squares of silvery material with each square covered in finely etched designs.

Dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet in a scene from *Macbeth*, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

But Buswell has also made use of the upper space of the stage with a platform that extends down from the flies at various times to make an ‘upstairs’ area that is Lady Macbeth’s bedroom/bathroom. His input also includes the lighting of each scene and the frequent use of billowing white smoke that darkens in Act II as the concepts being explored also darken. Those smoky creations make an appearance in the upper areas of the performing space and sometimes include the occasional word or sentence from Shakespeare’s play.

Costumes by Aleisa Jelbart are also a great addition to the work. They reflect a contemporary era and the opulent characteristics of those who are creating the story. The costumes have a simplicity along with a markedly expensive look about them and are varied in the choice of materials used in their making (including leather as well as cotton/nylon/linen materials). A commissioned score from Christopher Gordon is loud and overwhelming at times but reflects the similarly overwhelming nature of the activities of the characters.

This Macbeth is highly theatrical and completely engrossing. A must see show that is a co-production with West Australian Ballet. The dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet gave an absolutely outstandng performance on opening night and are to be congratulated on bringing the production to an amazing level of dancing and acting.

MIchelle Potter, 27 February 2026

Featured image: Branden Reiners as Macbeth with dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet. Macbeth, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Postscript: There is much more to say about this production, and I look forward to seeing it again, perhaps in Perth when it opens there in September. In this post I have deliberately concentrated on production values rather than the storyline itself. Other reviews I’m sure will analyse the storyline in more detail. For those who go to the show, there is a good description of the story as it unfolds in the Topp production in the very informative printed program.

I was a guest of Royal New Zealand Ballet at this show.

Emerging Choreographers Project. Quantum Leap Australia

My review of the Emerging Choreographers Project was published online by Canberra CityNews on 14 December 2025. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Here is a link to the CityNews review.

Emerging Choreographers Project. Quantum Leap Australia. A Block Theatre, Gorman Arts Centre, Canberra. 13 December 2025

The Emerging Choreographers Project (ECP) has been an annual Canberra-based event for several years now. Its aim has always been to give aspiring young choreographers an opportunity to collaborate with professional artists in the creation of an original dance work. The initial surprise of the 2025 program, however, came from opening remarks by Alice Lee Holland, current artistic director of what we have long known as QL2 Dance. She unveiled the news that the organisation is working towards the establishment of a new name, Quantum Leap Australia. The reason for the change was not explained, although one has to assume that it was, at least partly, a result of the leadership change. But it does also position the event in a wider context (in a geographical sense) and Canberra arts events can certainly do with being given wider recognition even if only by a name change.

The 2025 ECP was presented under this new name with six emerging choreographers participating in the program: Akira Byrne, Chloe Curtis, Jahna Lugnan, Lucia Morabito, Gigi Rohrlach and Maya Wille-Bellchambers. They were mentored by Holland and Emma Batchelor and were also given the opportunity, a new initiative, of working closely with Owen Davies of Sidestage, the Canberra-based organisation dealing in audio-visual technology for stage productions. While this I’m sure gave the choreographers extra inspiration, some of the lighting was quite dark, which is not an uncommon feature of dance productions at present (unfortunately I have to say).

In terms of mentoring, it would have been an added benefit if there had been some emphasis on how to speak out to the audience when, at the beginning of each work, the choreographer is required to give a brief introduction to the work. It is slightly annoying when the speaker is jigging around, as happened in most cases in this show. Please, ‘Speak up, stand still and look out at the audience!’

The work that stood out for me was Breathing Statues by Gigi Rohrlach in which four dancers moved from one sculptural pose to another. It appeared to me that the work was set in an Asian context in terms of the costumes, in the somewhat twisted and evocative arm movements as the dancers wrapped themselves around each other, and in sections of the music by Japanese composer Masakatsu Takagi.

I also enjoyed the closing work, Jahna Lugnan’s The Dog Shows No Concern, which Lugnan described in program notes as ‘resisting audience expectations and traditional narratives’. It certainly was unexpected in its musical approach, beginning with an excerpt from Georges Bizet’s opera Carmen but moving on to sound that was much more contemporary. So too was the costuming varied, perhaps one might even say outrageous, but certainly expressive of a variety of possible thoughts.

Scene from *The Dog Shows No Concern*. Quantum Leap Australia, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

The shape of me is shifting from Akira Byrne left me wondering about the difference between physical theatre and dance. I found Byrne’s emphasis on the spoken word frustrating, especially when at times it was hard to hear the words over the music. Nor was I a fan of the movement, especially for the group of four dancers who were like a collection of drooping shapes while the two main performers wrapped themselves around a metal structure. Program notes say the work examined the ‘relationship between mind, body, self and skin’.

A scene from *the shape of me is shifting*. Quantum Leap Australia, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

Some ideas don’t easily translate into dance especially when they are quite abstract concepts. I felt this was the case with Byrne’s work and also with Chloe Curtis’ Chorophobia, which set out to examine psychological reactions to fear.

One positive aspect of all works was the strength of the use of the performing space by each of the choreographers, including in those works that were staged in several short sections, such as Metamorphosis from Maya Wille-Bellchambers and Mirage of Memories from Lucia Morabito. Also interesting on a number of occasions was the visual nature of the groupings (if not always all that original).

Scene from *Metamorphosis*. Quantum Leap Australia, 2025. Photo: © Olivia Wikner

Choreography is not an easy art to master and, despite my reservations about some aspects of the works on show on this occasion, I have the utmost respect for those members of Quantum Leap Australia who had the courage to step up and create.

Michelle Potter, 16 December 2025

I was a guest of Quantum Leap Australia at this performance.

New Breed 2025. Sydney Dance Company

3 December 2025. Carriageworks, Eveleigh (Sydney)

This 12th New Breed program was the last we will see. The series of New Breed, produced with a principal partnership from the Balnaves Foundation, has been a terrific initiative. Let’s hope the new arrangement, where the Balnaves Foundation will generously support an artist in residence program with Sydney Dance Company, will be as successful.

The 2025 program opened with a work called Save Point from current Sydney Dance Company artist, Ryan Pearson. Save Point was, Pearson tells us in the short video clip that preceded his work, inspired by video games from his childhood. Elsewhere he says that it was also a result of his mother’s collection of cleaning items that he enjoyed playing with as a child. And so the work includes mops, brooms and other cleaning items as props.

Save Point features eight artists, one soloist and seven dancers who largely dance around the soloist in circular patterns. Pearson’s choreography is most interesting for the movement of those seven dancers, especially for the fluid way they bend and twist the upper body, and for the way they are individuals in terms of the choreography while moving together.

A scene from the closing moments in Ryan Pearson’s *Save Point*. *New Breed*, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Next up was From the horizon thereafter, created by New Zealand-born Ngaere Jenkins, currently also a dancer with Sydney Dance Company. It is a quiet, gentle work made for just six dancers and is Jenkins’ reflections on her New Zealand homeland and its varied countryside. In terms of structure, one dancer leads the team in a calm and thoughtful manner, while the others create shapes that seem to reference aspects of the landscape. Lighting by Alexander Berlage (who lit all four works on the program) added evocatively to the reflective nature of the work.

Scene from Ngaere Jenkins’ *From the horizon thereafter*. *New Breed*, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Following on from the Jenkins work was marathon o marathon from independent artist Emma Fishwick. Made on eight dancers, it was perhaps the most complex work on the program, at least in a narrative sense. We saw dancers running, marathon style, around the space of the stage; one seated dancer reading out a list of time sequences; several dancers working in a group as one sees when watching a marathon race; some dancers collapsing as time moved on; and more.

But all this was to set up the focus of the work not so much on a marathon itself but as a means of reflecting on life’s experiences, as a dancer or anyone involved in the dance world perhaps, but with a universal application. What is in it for us? Does dance have an answer to life’s difficulties? I’m not sure there was an answer but the group dancing was great to watch.

A group of dancers in *marathon o marathon*. *New Breed*, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Perhaps the most spectacular, or at least the most mind-blowing work was that from Harrison Ritchie-Jones entitled Pigeon Humongous. Made for eight dancers, it closed the program, and was filled with quite extraordinary choreography. This was especially so when it came to lifts between dancers, which often involved dancers moving mid-air from partner to partner. The dancers were ‘punk pigeon people’ following on from a global virus. They were dressed outrageously for the most part—everyone differently (costumes from Aleisa Jelbart who was responsible for costumes in all four works). The dancers threw themselves around, shouted, behaved strangely. One’s mind never wandered. What would happen next?

Ritchie-Jones explained in his pre-performance video that his choreographic influences came from a variety of sources. And it is obvious when watching that this is the case. The work was beautifully structured and the dancing was simply fabulous. I felt exhausted but thrilled as it ended.

Two dancers in a pose from *Pigeon Humungous. New Breed*, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Pedro Greig

I can’t help feeling a little sad that the New Breed seasons have come to an end. They have given us a terrific look into the future. I haven’t seen every season but I have to say that the choreographer whose work I admired the most over the course of the years has been Melanie Lane. Her work WOOF from 2017 was just brilliant and since then she has gone from strength to strength.

But let’s look forward now. Early in November Sydney Dance Company and the Balnaves Foundation announced that choreographer Jenni Large would be the 2026 Balnaves Foundation Artist in Residence. Large will have the opportunity to work with the various areas of Sydney Dance Company in order to discover the various aspects associated with the production of a program of dance. At the same time she will continue to develop her choreography.

Michelle Potter, 5 December 2025

Featured image: A moment from Emma Fishwick’s marathon o marathon. New Breed, Sydney Dance Company, 2025. Photo: © Pedro Greig

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

The Sleeping Beauty. The Australian Ballet (2025)

26 November 2025 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

The matinee of 26 November 2025 was not an outstanding presentation of David McAllister’s Sleeping Beauty. Not all of the main characters were danced with the outstanding technique we have come to expect from the Australian Ballet, nor was there the strong acting input a narrative ballet like Beauty needs. Benedicte Bemet as Aurora was, for example, not at her best as she attacked the demands of the choreography. A unfortunate aspect of the afternoon’s presentation.

On the other hand, Joseph Romancewic stood out as the English Prince. It is always such a pleasure to watch him perform. He never seems to be promoting himself but rather to be involved in aiding the unfolding of the narrative. I also enjoyed the performance of Hugo Dumapit as the Bluebird in his partnership with Lilla Harvey as Florine.

It is ten years since David McAllister’s production of The Sleeping Beauty was first seen in Australia. Since then I have seen live productions from Queensland Ballet, Royal New Zealand Ballet and Royal Czech Ballet as well Matthew Bourne’s reimagined version on film, and various as digital screenings especially from the Royal Ballet. Before that there were productions from the Australian Ballet from various choreographers/directors. I even had the privilege of writing a program note for the Australian Ballet’s 2005 production by Stanton Welch, which is available at this link. It just never gets easier to enjoy the McAllister production, mostly because of the design, or rather over design. Each time I see it I am taken aback.

Final scene of David McAllister’s production of *The Sleeping Beauty*. The Australian Ballet, 2015. Photo: Jeff Busby.

But this time I couldn’t help wondering, in particular, why the Garland Dance, a beautiful part of most productions, had to be so over-dressed. As delightful as is the image below, those costumes just take away from the choreography.

Dancer wearing the Garland Dance costume. Photographer not known.

Even though the work is discussed as opulent and even that, with its design, it looks back to the creation of the work in Russia in the 19th century, I’m not a 19th century Russian balletomane. For me this Sleeping Beauty is not, as stated on Instagram, ‘an unforgettable masterpiece of romance and magic’.

Michelle Potter, 28 November 2025

Featured image: Detail of a publicity image for the 2025 Australian Ballet presentation of The Sleeping Beauty. Photographer not known.

I attended this performance as a member of the general public. My ticket cost $234.