Elemental. The Chaos Project 2024, QL2 Dance

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 20 October 2024

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

Coco Chanel: the Life of a Fashion Icon. Queensland Ballet

4 October 2024. Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane

My review of the Queensland Ballet presentation of Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Coco Chanel: the Life of a Fashion Icon was published in Limelight on 6 October. Read the Limelight review at this link. Below is a slightly enlarged version of that review.

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

Coco Chanel: the Life of a Fashion Icon, from Belgian-Columbian choreographer Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, was originally sought for Queensland Ballet by the company’s former artistic director, Li Cunxin. He began working to add it to the repertoire, he told me, some five or six years ago. It finally premiered in Brisbane as a joint production with Hong Kong Ballet and Atlanta Ballet.

As Queensland Ballet’s program notes tell us, Coco Chanel was a ‘creative, controversial and wildly ambitious’ woman. In addition to her initiatives with clothing design and the creation of a range of perfumes, she had a number of lovers and she interacted with many of the world’s best-known artists across theatrical genres, including many who worked with Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. And her connection with the Nazi movement during World War II has been hotly debated. How then to create a ballet about her life, filled as it was with so many complex activities?

We first see Chanel (Neneka Yoshida) as a poverty-stricken nineteen-year-old seamstress working in a factory on clothes to be worn by the rich and famous. Already we have a view of the juxtaposition of poverty and wealth that characterised her early life. We also meet Shadow-Chanel (Kaho Kato), an encouraging figure, who is often quietly present onstage and who guides Chanel through her work and into the future.

From there we move on to a series of episodes reflecting aspects of Chanel’s life including her early work with her sister Julia (Alisa Pukkinen) as a singer and dancer in a Parisian bistro; and various aspects of her design career, including holiday activities in the French seaside resort of Deauville that inspired the addition to her designs of striped and other sailor-style items.

Neneka Yoshida as Coco Chanel enjoying activities at Deauville. Queensland Ballet, 2024. Photo: © David Kelly

Other episodes look at the demands she insisted upon from those who worked for her; her logo consisting of an entwined version of the letter C; her various lovers, including Arthur Edward ‘Boy’ Capel (Patricio Revé), who is killed in a car accident; the choice of Chanel No. 5 as her signature perfume; and her activities during the war years.

Neneka Yoshida as Coco Chanel grieving over the death of ‘Boy’ Capel. Queensland Ballet, 2024. Photo: © David Kelly

In the final episodes we see her work being rejected, but also the comeback that she eventually achieves.

Theatrically, Lopez Ochoa handles the episodic nature of the story with absolute skill. There is never any doubt about what is happening despite the shortness but complexity of each episode. Choreographically her use of the space of the stage is carefully considered as are the groupings she makes between dancers as the episodes unfold. I especially enjoyed the episode in which Chanel chooses her signature perfume from five possibilities. It was a smart presentation preceded by a beautifully choreographed group dance of flower people (scents of perfume).

But the Nazi episode was also a highlight with Chanel’s lover at the time, a Gestapo spy named Hans Günther von Dincklage, dramatically danced by Vito Bernasconi. Also of particular interest was the episode in which Chanel engaged with Igor Stravinsky (Joshua Ostermann). Stravinsky benefitted from Chanel’s philanthropic generosity in relationship to his score for the Ballets Russes production of The Rite of Spring but, in a moving moment in the episode, Stravinsky left the relationship in favour of his wife and family.

Neneka Yoshida as Coco Chanel and Joshua Ostermann as Igor Stravinsky. Queensland Ballet, 2024. Photo: © David Kelly

But every dancer rose to the occasion in every episode and performed with exceptional skill and commitment.

Set and costumes were created by Jérôme Kaplan and he pursued a minimalist approach, reflecting the unadorned nature of Chanel’s clothing designs. No frills, no fussy additions. An ongoing aspect of his design was the circular staircase that was moved on and off stage as the moment demanded and that looked back to a mirrored, circular staircase that was part the ground level of Chanel’s studio in Paris.

The circular staircase with Georgie Swan and Edison Manuel as the Chanel logo and Kaho Kato as Shadow-Chanel. Photo: © David Kelly

Jon Buswell’s atmospheric lighting added to the overall effect, and the new and often surprising score by Peter Salem was played by Camerata: Queensland’s Chamber Orchestra conducted by Nigel Gaynor.

When I received my ticket to Coco Chanel my heart sank. My seat was in the Gallery rather than the Stalls. I suspected that I’d never be able to see the production well enough to review it. But I couldn’t have asked for anything better. The seat in the Gallery gave me a perfect view of Lopez Ochoa’s choreographic vision, in particular the way in which she patterns bodies in the performing space, and the manner in which the show was brought together as a collaborative endeavour. Coco Chanel is an absolutely brilliant production made by a choreographer with an approach that is distinctively individualistic, and from which shines an understanding of, and belief in ballet as a medium to be pursued. It deserves to be seen across Australia.

Michelle Potter. 7 October 2024

Featured image: Neneka Yoshida as Coco Chanel with Kaho Kato (at back) as Shadow-Chanel. Photo: © David Kelly

L’histoire de Manon. La Scala Ballet on film

22 September 2024. Palace Electric Cinema, Canberra

Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon, which premiered in 1974, has never been my favourite ballet. It has always seemed to be too long and to have a surplus of main characters that have often been hard to distinguish from each other. But I nevertheless went to see the film called L’Histoire de Manon as danced by La Scala Ballet in Milan to music by Jules Massenet. I was intrigued initially by the title and when reading about the ballet before seeing the film I discovered the following on the MacMillan website.

When the Paris Opera Ballet took Manon into its repertoire in 1991, a legal wrangle resulted in MacMillan’s ballet being re-titled L’Histoire de Manon. The heir to Massenet’s estate had objected to possible confusion between the opera and the ballet. Henceforth, the ballet has been known in Europe (with the exception of the United Kingdom) as L’Histoire de Manon and in the rest of the world simply as Manon.

To put it mildly, the film shows the ballet as a tour de force, completely understandable in all its facets and danced with remarkable technique from every performer. Standouts were Nicoletta Manni as Manon and Reece Clarke as the young student, Des Grieux, who falls in love with Manon and follows her to Louisiana, to where, as one of several prostitutes, she has been deported. Technically their performance of MacMillan’s choreography, especially the several pas de deux for them, with their flowing lifts, turns, slides and all manner of movements, was just spectacular. And as for their acting, the relationship between them was clearly evident. The audience could not have asked for more.

The same might be said for Nicola del Freo as Lescaut, Manon’s brother, and Gabrielle Corrado as Monsieur G. M., with whom Lescaut interacts to develop the connection with this rich old man who showers Manon with expensive items of clothing and jewellery. They are seen in the image below.

Even the ending in the swamp in Louisiana was so beautifully performed that its length seemed not to matter any more.

I admired Nicholas Georgiadis’ sets and costumes, as I have previously when seeing them used by London’s Royal Ballet in their production of Manon. They set up so well the difference between the rich and the poor in the story. (Manon will feature in the Australian Ballet’s 2025 season, when it will be performed with sets and costumes by Peter Farmer.)

More than anything, when looking back at my reactions while watching this film, I am very surprised by my emotional involvement in the production. I felt totally involved! It doesn’t happen all that often.

I have seen the La Scala company twice before, once in Brisbane in 2018 when they performed the Nureyev production of Don Quixote and once in Milan in 2019 when I saw their rendition of Wayne McGregor’s Woolf Works. On both those occasions I was blown away by the performances and after Don Quixote wrote ‘This was a spectacularly good production from an outstanding company of artists.’ The film L’histoire de Manon simply confirmed my opinion that this company is just amazing.

Michelle Potter, 24 September 2024

Featured image: Nicoletta Manni as Manon

The photos used in this post come from publicity material for the film.

Twofold. Sydney Dance Company

Below is an enlarged version of my review of Twofold published online by Canberra’s CityNews on 19 September 2024. The CityNews review is at this link.

18 September 2024. Roslyn Packer Theatre, Sydney

Sydney Dance Company’s Twofold began by giving the audience a second look at Rafael Bonachela’s work, Impermanence. Bonachela, artistic director of Sydney Dance Company for more than 15 years, created this work, in conjunction with American composer Bryce Dessner, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was first seen onstage in 2021 when I masked up and braved the situation and went to see it. My review of that occasion is at this link.

Then followed the thrill of a brand-new work, Love Lock, from Melanie Lane who works across the world as an independent choreographer. Love Lock is Lane’s second major work for Sydney Dance Company, following on from the much-admired WOOF, which premiered in its mainstage iteration in 2019. See this link for my review of that work.

Lane spent her early life in Canberra and received her dance training at the National Capital Ballet School under the direction of Janet Karin. She has maintained her Canberra connections and has worked closely in recent years with QL2 Dance, Canberra’s youth dance organisation, and has also created works in Canberra in a number of independent situations.

The titles of the two works in Twofold, Impermanence and Love Lock, both raise interesting questions in the mind of those watching, but neither really explains unquestionably the nature of the works as we see them. But then it has always been Bonachela’s belief that it is the members of the audience, not the choreographer, who decide on the meaning of any dance work.

Impermanence was extremely engaging and was performed to Dessner’s score played live onstage by the Australian String Quartet. Its choreography showed Bonachela at his most intense and relentless giving rise to the dancers being able to display their outstanding ability to bend and twist the body into remarkable positions while maintaining a lyricism and a strong connection with others onstage. They worked with each other in duets, trios, quartets and often as a whole group in unison. But I was surprised by the number of times five dancers formed a group, which made me think back to Bonachela’s Cinco, a work that referred to the five decades of dance from Sydney Dance Company.

The work was lit by Damien Cooper and often the dancers and musicians were shadowy. At other times they were dark figures in brighter surroundings. Always the lighting influenced how we perceived the dancing, which came to an end with a striking solo danced to a song from singer and songwriter Anohni.

Scene from *Impermanence*. Sydney Dance Company, 2021. Photo: © Pedro Greig

As for Love Lock, given Lane’s Canberra connections it was more than tempting to think back to the strange role love locks have had in Canberra. In 2015 a growing collection of love locks, that is padlocks that represent everlasting love that are sometimes attached to a bridge before having their keys thrown into the water never to be retrieved, were forcibly removed by the National Capital Authority from the bridge leading to Queen Elizabeth II Island on which is housed Canberra’s carillon.

But Love Lock was a reflection on folk or community dancing, which Lane said she sees as celebrating what it means ‘to connect with each other through our bodies and essentially what it means to be human.’ In the early moments of the work the choreography was characterised by lines of dancers, dressed in shiny black, largely unadorned outfits, filling the performance space and working in a somewhat geometric fashion. Slowly, however, this structured format gave way to movement that was more eccentric, thus losing to a certain extent its folkloric appearance. As the work progressed dancers began appearing in remarkable and individualistic costumes from designer Akira Isogawa. The costumes were of various colours, often made with softly draped material, and often quite sharply and unexpectedly protruding beyond the line of the body.

Sydney Dance Company in a moment from *Love Lock*, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Love Lock was also lit by Damien Cooper and was performed to a driving score commissioned from [Chris] Clark. The movement continued to appear intense and individualistic with changing physical connections between dancers until the closing moments when a calm descended over the group.

Love Lock is a work for this century. It is brash at times but always demanding of our thoughts about humanity and how connections may change over time. A triumph for its choreographer and her collaborators.

Akira Isogawa and Melanie Lane, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Michelle Potter, 20 September 2024

Featured image: (l-r) Dean Elliott, Emily Seymour, Sophie Jones and Mia Thompson in Melanie Lane’s Love Lock. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Jurrungu Ngan-Ga [Straight Talk]. Marrugeku

23 August 2024. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Jurrungu Ngan-Ga [Straight Talk] published online by Canberra’s CityNews on 24 August 2024. The CityNews review is at this link.

I have always thought of Marrugeku as a dance company with a strong focus on Indigenous issues. But Jurrungu Ngan-Ga, staged recently in Canberra by Marrugeku, showed just how much more the company offers audiences. In the case of this production, multi-disciplinary is a much stronger descriptive term for this company. In Jurrungu Ngan-Ga dance was a definite, probably dominant, component and the dancers were all exceptional performers. But the dance input was solidly supported by voice (both spoken and sung), video projection, and installation. It also had a cast of diverse cultural origins, including those with an Indigenous heritage as well as migrants to Australia, especially those who had been interred in immigration camps, notably on Manus Island in Papua New Guines.

The work was largely a series of distinct scenes. It opened with a solo that gave us a look at the kind of choreography we might expect throughout the evening—dance that was twisted, complex, occasionally grounded but moving constantly across the stage space, and subtly displaying the effects of invisible forces on the body. From there Jurrungu Ngan-Ga moved from scene to scene, some more confronting than others including some prison scenes, some overtly sexual moments, and one scene that involved dancing that seemed to suggest determined resilience in the face of unimaginable personal difficulties.

A dancing moment from *Jurrungu Ngan-Ga* from a 2022 production by Marrugeku with Bhenji Ra centre front. Photo: © Prudence Upton

Choreographically Jurrungu Ngan-Ga was diverse in its references. There were moments when moves were distinctively balletic, some that seemed clearly Indigenous, others that had a strongly Asian feel, and some that recalled hip-hop. There were even some moments when I couldn’t help thinking of Raygun and her much-discussed Olympic break-dancing performance.

Unfortunately, as is a common practice these days, the online program gave us little that helped identify performers we may not have known from elsewhere—no portrait-style images. But the male dancer who, to me, gave the strongest performance was former Canberra-based artist Luke Currie-Richardson. Tall, powerfully built, shaved head and sporting a black beard, he was at times terrifying as he manipulated a boomerang as if it were a gun, while all the time soaring through the air and always completely committed to his role. *

Bhenji Ra also gave an outstanding performance as a woman who needed to, and did talk about her ideas and opinions on life. She did it mostly from a table top, which she demanded to be set up for her. Her strength as an actor shone through.

Costumes by Andrew Treloar were an interesting mix of styles from underwear to stylish evening attire. They were also shared among the dancers and often split into several pieces with parts worn by various dancers. As for the projections, from the program it was not immediately clear who was responsible for this aspect of the show but it was more of a mirror of what was happening onstage than anything else.

Prison scene from *Jurrungu Ngan-Ga* from a 2022 production by Marrugeku. Photo: © Prudence Upton

Marrugeku is led by Dalisa Pigram and Rachael Swain and is located between Broome, Western Australia and Sydney New South Wales. Its patron is former senator, Patrick Dodson, who has been strongly involved with the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. His input into the political aspects of Jurrungu Ngan-Ga was clearly present.

With such a background Jurrungu Ngan-Ga was not an easy show to watch. It was provocative and it constantly put confronting issues before us. It ended as it had begun with a solo, which this time was angst-ridden and full of a feeling of sorrow. The work pulled no punches but certainly gave us a profound examination of shameful issues, largely those emerging from incarceration and the detention of refugees, which have affected the people at the heart of the work. Straight Talk indeed.

Michelle Potter, 26 August 2024

* For more about Luke Currie-Richardson see this link to an article published in The Canberra Times in 2016 (from the days when that newspaper actually published material about the arts).

Featured image: Dancers from Jurrungu Ngan-Ga from a 2022 production by Marrugeku. Photo: © Prudence Upton

Silence & Rapture. Australian Chamber Orchestra and Sydney Dance Company

17 August 2024. Llewellyn Hall, Canberra

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Silence & Rapture published online by Canberra’s CityNews on 18 August 2024. The CityNews review is at this link.

The Australian Chamber Orchestra (ACO) has an admirable history of staging productions with dance companies in which both musicians and dancers perform onstage, with artists of each genre reflecting the work of the other in some way. My first recollection of this kind of collaborative endeavour goes back to 1998 when the ACO joined with a small contingent of dancers from the Australian Ballet, then under the direction of Ross Stretton, to present the Stravinsky/Balanchine ballet, Apollo. Since then there have been several collaborations between the ACO and Sydney Dance Company. Silence & Rapture is their most recent joint initiative.*

Directed by Richard Tognetti, Silence & Rapture presented a series of compositions by two composers—J. S. Bach and Arvo Pärt—whose works are years apart but were so expertly curated on the program that they fell together seamlessly. Program notes explained the narrative that was behind the selection. It followed ‘the path of a Lutheran metaphor … the world as a pendulum swinging downward, from the natural world of Hope and Temptation (Garden of Eden), down to Tragedy and Passion (Garden of Gethsemane), then upward again to Resurrection and Redemption (Garden of Heaven).’ The ACO musicians were joined by countertenor Iestyn Davies and two Sydney Dance Company artists, Emily Seymour and Liam Green, who performed the choreography of Rafael Bonachela.

Every aspect of the show was superbly executed by every single artist, with a standout performance of the Prelude from Bach’s Suite for Solo Cello in C Major from ACO’s principal cellist Timo-Veikko Valve. Apart from an impeccable transmission of the sound of the music, Valve the man could scarcely be separated from his instrument so involved was he, in a bodily sense, in transmitting the notes across the stage space and into the auditorium. While Valve’s involvement in this way was unforgettable, most of the ACO musicians also showed their intense commitment with a similar physical connection with their instrument during performance.

The dancers also stood out for their performance of Bonachela’s highly complex movement. Bonachela needed to restrain his choreography to an extent, given the small space in which the dancers could perform. But he showed his skill and, in addition to a focus on complexity, which often reflected the complexity of the music, he had the dancers at times performing solos on two small tables on the edges of the stage space. There were brief moments too of unison dancing involving Seymour and Green and I am always impressed by the way Bonachela turns to unison work, and how his dancers respond so beautifully.

Emily Seymour and Richard Tognetti in a moment from *Silence & Rapture*. Photo: © Daniel Boud

But the truly outstanding feature of Silence & Rapture was the theatricality that permeated the evening, especially in the use of the stage space. Apart from the two cellists and Chad Kelly, who played organ and harpsichord, all the musicians stood for the entire performance (how did they do it?) and formed a semi-circle onstage. They provided a focused performing area for the dancers and countertenor, who constantly interacted with each other, with the countertenor occasionally joining the dancers in performing Bonachela’s choreography.

Then there was the input from well-known lighting designer Damien Cooper. His design added colour to the production, and darkness sometimes when the musicians were practically hidden but still playing. His design also highlighted certain moments, including the cello solo by Valve, and a moment towards the end when the two dancers mounted a rise at the centre back of the stage to present the ‘upward swing’ to ‘Resurrection and Redemption’.

When I look back at the Apollo collaborative event of 1998 (and re-read my less than positive review of that performance) I wonder whether the success of Silence & Rapture reflects the fact that in this case the dance was made for the music, which had been specifically selected and put together. The show thus had an originality, a presentation that had not existed previously, an originality that was not present in what was put together in 1998? Whatever the reason, in its one-night-only performance in Canberra, Silence & Rapture was a five-star show.

Michelle Potter, 18 August 2024

* It is of course not uncommon for dance companies and composers to work together—even working onstage together is relatively common. This review simply concerns the collaborative efforts of the ACO, while not dismissing other such efforts.

Featured image: Sydney Dance Company’s Emily Seymour and Liam Green (centre) with musicians of the Australian Chamber Orchestra in Silence & Rapture. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Solace. Royal New Zealand Ballet

1 August 2024. St James Theatre, Wellington

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Solace published online by Dance Australia on 5 August 2024. The Dance Australia review is at this link.

Solace, the recent triple bill from Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB), offered audiences a thought-provoking look at the approach of contemporary choreographers who work with ballet companies. They are often inspired by abstract ideas rather than by a narrative line. Such was the case with the three works that made up Solace: Wayne McGregor’s Infra, To Hold by Sarah Foster-Sproull, and Alice Topp’s High Tide.

First up was Infra, danced to a score by Max Richter. I first saw Infra in an Australian Ballet season back in 2014 and I was not really thrilled with what I saw then. But I felt quite differently watching the RNZB production. In his RNZB program notes McGregor remarked that ‘Infra has become simply about people’. Two people stood out in the cast I saw—Branden Reiners and Kate Kadow. Their duet, one of several in Infra, was filled with emotion as a result of the magnificent contact they made with each other. The connection they created was not simply a result of the physicality they developed through McGregor’s choreography but in other ways as well, including through their constant and engaging eye contact. But eventually Reiners left the stage, walking off without acknowledging Kadow. Her reaction continued the momentum that the duet had generated. Kadow seemed stricken by anxiety and pain as she reacted to Reiners’ departure. It was heart-stopping. Despite exceptional dancing by the entire cast, nothing could match the performance of Reiners and Kadow.

Branden Reiners and Kate Kadow in *Infra*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Apart from being moved by the Reiners/Kadow connection, it was interesting to watch the unfolding of McGregor’s choreography. With Infra he worked within the classical medium but pushed that medium to exceptional lengths. In particular, his choreography moved away from the classical notion that the body is centred on an erect spine. In Infra it was quite noticeable that the spine was often curved with the dancers pushing the pelvis backwards and forwards to remove and then reinstate the straight line of the spine. Great work from RNZB.

Next was Sarah Foster-Sproull’s newly-commissioned work, To Hold, again dealing with an abstract idea, ‘ways of holding and being held’. This idea was constantly made clear by the groupings Foster-Sproull created throughout the piece. Often the dancers gathered together in large, tightly-held arrangements. Often too they joined arms to create various groupings. Frequently the hands, often with fingers spread wide apart, were very prominent. To my mind this focus on joining hands in various ways meant that other choreographic moves seemed of secondary importance. I would have loved to have seen more variation rather than the work being overburdened by ‘togetherness’.

A moment from Sarah Foster-Sproull’s *To Hold*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

The bright blue costumes by Donna Jefferis moved beautifully as the choreography, and the score by Eden Mulholland, unfolded. The costumes added a visually impressive element to the work.

Ana Gallardo Lobaina (left) and Joshua Guillemot-Rodgerson (right) in Sarah Foster-Sproull’s *To Hold*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court.

The evening ended with another new work, High Tide, created by Australia’s Alice Topp to music by Icelandic composer Ölafur Arnalds. Topp writes that the work is ‘a tender look at the isolating experiences of fear and our ever-changing shadows’. High Tide consisted largely of duets, a dance format that is a specialty of Topp’s choreographic approach. Topp showed off her skill at developing lifts and partnership moves that were often quite spectacular in the way bodies linked up. Dancers were, for example, often held upside down or in twisted positions, and they frequently pulled away from each other while still maintaining a physical connection. Topp’s choreography is firmly classically based but is demanding in its complexity and there were moments when I felt a little anxious about some of the performers. High Tide probably needs more time for the dancers to develop greater confidence and fluidity with Topp’s choreography.

Ana Gallardo Lobaina and Branden Reiners in Alice Topp’s *High Tide*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

While visually all three works had an impact, the most outstanding collaborative contribution was designer Jon Buswell’s huge and domineering orb that accompanied High Tide. It reflected, on its changing surface and with its movement within the performing space, much of what Topp hoped to express about human experiences.

Solace was a demanding triple bill and RNZB rose skillfully to the occasion. It was an evening to be savoured and enjoyed for what it demonstrated about ballet today.

Update on request. An oral history interview with Alice Topp, recorded for the National Library of Australia, is available at this link. (MP 7/8/24)

Michelle Potter 5 August 2024

Featured image: A scene from Alice Topp’s High Tide showing Jon Buswell’s orb at the back. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2024. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Horizon. Bangarra Dance Theatre. A second look

18 July 2024. Bangarra Dance Theatre, Canberra Theatre.

In Canberra I had a rather different view of the production of Bangarra’s Horizon from the one I had in Sydney back in June. When I arrived at the Canberra Theatre to collect my tickets there was only one ticket in the envelope , despite the fact that I had officially been allocated two and did in fact have a guest with me. I was reallocated seats and ended up in row W very much on the side—not a position where critics usually sit! But in fact it gave me an interesting view of some aspects of the show, in particular a good view of the overall picture that was being presented, which gave added strength to some of the visual elements. While I much prefer to be a little closer, and hope the Canberra Theatre Centre can manage to get things right next time, all was not lost.

My review of the Canberra opening of Horizon was published online by Canberra’s City News and can be accessed at this link. Below is a slight enlarged version of that text.

Horizon is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first mainstage, international collaborative initiative. It centres on aspects of Australian and Aotearoa New Zealand dance practice as those aspects reflect traditional society and culture.

The major part of the show is The Light Inside, a work in two sections. The first, ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’, is choreographed by former Bangarra dancer, Deborah Brown, whose family connections are in the Torres Strait Islands. The second is ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, created by choreographer and director of Auckland’s New Zealand Dance Company, Moss Patterson, who grew up in the area around Lake Taupo on the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. The Light Inside is preceded by Kulka, a short work by Sani Townson, former Bangarra dancer and now Youth Programs Coordinator with the company.

The focus of Kulka is nighttime with emphasis on the fact that much of Torres Strait Islander society abounds in traditional songs and dances about constellations that guide the totems and clans in the society. A leading role was taken by Kassidy Waters while a highlight was a trio danced by Lucy May, Bradley Smith and Kallum Goolagong, which centred on the role of the Crocodile God in Townson’s clan. A feature of Horizon was a projection that acted as a kind of backcloth and mirrored the performers as they danced. Kulka introduced us to this mirror-like effect, which was continued, although slightly differently, during The Light Inside.

(left) scene from *Kulka* showing the mirroring technique above the dancers; (right) scene from *The Light Inside* showing the mirroring technique below the dancers as if they are dancing in water. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Deborah Brown’s ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’ focuses on the relationship between Torres Strait Islander communities and the sea. An exceptional introduction to the work came from Daniel Mateo. It looked back to the work of a 19th century anthropologist as he recorded aspects of Torres Strait Islander culture on wax cylinders. Another highlight was ‘Blue Star’, an exceptionally performed solo by Lillian Banks telling of a seasonal change when moisture in the air makes the stars turn blue and twinkle, which becomes a guide for the seafaring peoples of the region.

The standout work on the program, however, was ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, Moss Patterson’s section of The Light Inside. I first saw this work in Sydney at its world premiere in June. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about the relationship this new work had with the Māori haka. I was repeatedly reminded of football matches between Australia and New Zealand that are inevitably preceded by a haka. But the Canberra show seemed very different. After a month of performances in Sydney, the dancers had clearly absorbed the powerful and individualistic nature of Patterson’s choreography. The work was intensely moving and dramatic. Those qualities were clearly transmitted through the bodies of the dancers. They were proud. They were aggressive. They were strong and determined as they took their place in the world. Football memories were gone.

The work ended in a quieter fashion with the ensemble dancing to suggest peace and communication. But the strength and power of Patterson’s ‘Fresh Water’ remained and had clearly inspired the audience. Cheers rang out as the evening came to a close.

Horizon is an admirable undertaking and, as is usual with Bangarra productions, the collaborative elements were exceptional. Original scores were created by Steve Francis, Brendon Boney and Amy Flannery. Costume designs came from Jennifer Irwin and Clair Parker, set design from Elizabeth Gadsby, and lighting from Karen Norris.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2024

Featured image: Kassidy Waters and dancers of Bangarra Dance Theatre in a moment from The Light Inside. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Homemade Jam. BalletCollective Aotearoa with Tawa College dance group

6 July 2024. Te Auaha Theatre, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This attractive program takes the unpretentious title Homemade Jam, as if to say, ‘We can’t afford to import posh marmalade from Harrods so we’ve made our own jam from the fruit in the orchard here.’ With a full house at both performances, and sold-out printed programs, BalletCollective Aotearoa (BCA) must be pleased to know there are clearly audiences keen to follow their work.

Earlier this year Turid Revfeim staged the triumphant production of the late Russell Kerr’s Swan Lake for RNZBallet, and 2024 will be long remembered for that tribute to the father of ballet in New Zealand. Without delay Turid turned her attentions to a BCA season at the Taranaki Arts Festival where it was very well received (involving NZTrio, a leading chamber music group, and a dance cast headed by Abigail Boyle, how could it not be?)

And now, with a different cast, to this Wellington season as part of the Pōneke Festival of Contemporary Dance. The energy all this takes cannot be underestimated, and it’s the combined resilience of BCA, with the participants’ independence of thought (something not always possible for those in a company structure) that is noticeable. It’s impressive when any dancers’ careers flourish, though how this troupe does it, with high performance standards on a zero budget, is anyone’s guess.

The opening work, Last Time We Spoke, is by Sarah Knox, graduate of NZSchool of Dance and now a faculty member of University of Auckland Dance program. It echoes back to Covid-era experiences, and is a study of the sense of community that can prove so vulnerable to such circumstances. Set to music by Rhian Sheehan, it has a poignant atmosphere and is beautifully danced, opening with Callum Phipps who moves as liquid amber.

preference for reason is an impressive large group work by students from the Dance program at Tawa College, whose creative director is Brigitte Knight. The work takes a theme of isolation and connection in an era of digital communication, and is staged with clarity and focus by the group of 24 youngsters giving their all. One of the dancers knows how to let his face become absorbed as part of the overall dancing body, so ‘the whole body does the talking’. This is an innate ability, can barely be taught, is rare, and should therefore be recognised when it happens. He will go far, but all the students will have been thrilled to share the program with BCA.

Alina Kulikova and Callum Phipps performing *Subtle Dances*, part of BalletCollective Aotearoa’s *Homemade Jam* program, in the inaugural Pōneke Festival of Contemporary Dance, 2024. Photo: © Lokyee Szeto

The third and final work, Subtle Dances, by Loughlan Prior, is a smooth smart, sassy work inspired from tango but carrying further the emotions that that stylised dance form usually keeps internalised. Prior is a choreographer who has made a major contribution to dance in New Zealand (including BCA’s premiere work, Transfigured Night, to Schoenberg, under Chamber Music New Zealand’s auspices). He is a past master at setting groups that capture and build atmosphere, and this stylish piece is no exception.

Well done to BCA and to all involved for a heartening demonstration of the joy that dance can offer if we let it. The name of the venue, Te Auaha, means to leap, throb, thrill with passion…so go for it, I say.

Jennifer Shennan, 14 July 2024

Vismaya—Amazement. Mudra Dance Company with visiting musicians

choreography Vivek Kinra
auspices of Chamber Music New Zealand
29 June 2024. Q Theatre, Auckland
30 June 2024. Meteor Theatre, Hamilton
2 July 2024. Little Theatre, Lower Hutt
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

Vismaya is Sanskrit for Amazement and proved the perfect title for this highly enterprising project of Bharata Natyam, South Indian classical dance, in performances and workshops on a national tour to five centres—Auckland, Hamilton, Wellington, Nelson, Christchurch.

In an inspired move, Chamber Music New Zealand (CMNZ) invited four highly skilled Indian musicians to visit and team up with six dancers from the Wellington-based Mudra Dance Company. Vivek Kinra has directed his Bharata Natyam academy and company here since 1990, but the calibre of his work has always been international rather than merely local, so we expect to be thrilled, and we are, by this performance of enriched chamber music.

Musicians (l-r} Sri Adyar Gopinath (mridangam), Ranjani Ganesan Ramesh (vocals), Jaishri Suresh (Veena), and Tiruchy L. Saravanan (flute). Photo: © Gerry Keating

Vocalist and director of music, Ranjani Ganesan Ramesh, sings with full expressive effect, reining in the ensemble with layers of melody and arcs of harmony. Sri Adyar Gopinath is a consummate player of mridangam/drum, his hands declaiming authority then fluttering and diving like hummingbirds, in mesmerising rhythmic embellishments on the steady beat within the music. Both these artists have had long association with the renowned Kalakshetra school in Chennai where Vivek had trained for many years, so they each know the other’s art as their own, and the dancers are galvanised into brilliance as a result.

Tiruchy L. Saravanan plays flute with great skill, evoking songbirds on the wing, and his solo piece, Nagumomu, is a particular delight of flight. The deeper string tones of the veena, beautifully played by Jaishri Suresh, offer a balm and solace that seems to embrace the listener. This ensemble could have played until dawn and no-one from the audience would have left early.

As for the dancers, we saw something quite sublime. I have attended Mudra performances since 1990, including a number of arangetram, (the two-hour solo graduation recital of a pupil who has attained the required standard). Each of those seasons has carried its own high quality but never before have we witnessed such an explosion of joy and total commitment from the six dancers in this production.

All the choreography by Kinra is new, in a wonderful blend that honours tradition but weaves in many contemporary references. He stands on stage before each work to perform the gestures and motifs of the work we are about to see. These are luminous miniatures and reveal the exquisite qualities he has always brought to his stage presence. The opening Pushpanjali, offering of flowers, is followed by Shyamala Dandakam in which a mysterious Tantric goddess is portrayed, and complete rapport is established between musicians and dancers.

(left) Shrinidhi Bharadwaj and Banu Siva, (right) Shrinidhi Bharadwaj—in the varnam, Navarasa: Nine Emotions. Photos: © Gerry Keating

The major work, a varnam—Navarasa: Nine Emotions—is a tour-de-force. Each dancer has an assured technique with stunning geometric precision in arm and leg movements, intricately detailed mudra (hand gestures), beguiling facial expressions, powerful dramatic timing in sustained narratives, and the range of emotions from love and ecstasy, hope and curiosity, pride and envy, fear and loathing, to peace and serenity. Comedy is also there—for example when Siva disguises himself as an old man and makes approaches to the young devotee to test her love and loyalty. Her disgust is palpable and she passes the test.

Varshini Suresh in *Navarasa*. Photo: © Gerry Keating

There are solo passages, and other times where two dancers move at great speed but in perfect unison (harder to do than it sounds, but no effort is shown). Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Banu Siva and Varshini Suresh are hugely effective in portraying the emotions of the drama.

There is a distinctive quality to the dancers’ elevation as they anticipate on the upbeat, a leap that flies them free of gravity, to then land, of course, precisely on the beat. The effect on us is kinaesthetic—we feel we have been flying too.

In the final Thillana there is much to celebrate—glorious arcs of dancers curving and intersecting in lines across the stage, in a particularly joyous denouement of a performance that nobody wanted to end. The dancers—Varshini Suresh, Banu Siva, Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Esther McCreadie, Deepika Sundar and Rhea Homroy—will be long remembered.

Each of the performances I attended, in Auckland, Hamilton and Wellington, had appreciative audiences, but the Lower Hutt’s Little Theatre experience was a particular triumph with the audience on their feet acknowledging the performance of a lifetime.

There were workshops, open to all, offered the day before a performance, and these too were memorable and informative—for example: ‘What skin is the mridangam drumhead made of?’—’Oh, I had to replace the leather with a quality plastic for this tour because New Zealand biosecurity measures are very strict and we could not afford to have this drum impounded for a three-week fumigation. We’d have been back in India by the time it was released.’ Each musician spoke to their instrument but had to be paused after 15 minutes by Kinra, who knows that the sacred and Sanskrit history of this art has to be contained somehow, or we would all have missed the following night’s performance. It’s a considerable art in itself to compress so much into the time available, but we catch all of it. We go home through a wild Wellington storm that had hours earlier almost prevented our planes from the north from landing, but the elements, let’s call them the gods, were with us all the way.

The idea for this project was initially proposed by Rose Campbell, a former trustee of CMNZ, and has proved an exceptional achievement for everyone concerned. There have been some voices raised in complaint that CMNZ is departing from its original charter in including dance and ethnic arts in its programming. I’d have thought everything is ethnic therefore nothing is ethnic … that dance is not the opposite of music but that each art can mutually enhance and inspire the other, so entwined as to be one and the same art. Vismaya was chamber music of the highest calibre, expressed through dancing of mesmerising yet accessible quality.

Heartfelt thanks are due to those whose vision brought us this truly amazing production, to all the performers, and to Vivek Kinra who at the end of the performance thanks us all for coming. That’s the only thing he got wrong all evening. It’s we who are to thank him.

Jennifer Shennan, 4 July 2024

Featured image: Members of Mudra Dance Company (from left) Esther McCreadie, Banu Siva, Shrinidhi Bharadwaj, Varshini Suresh, Deepika Sundar. Photo: © Gerry Keating