Sheltering. Bangarra Dance Theatre

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

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23 May 2026. Canberra Theatre, Canberra Theatre Centre

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 26 May 2026

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

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

Sphere. Australian Dance Party

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MIchelle Potter, 15 May 2025

Featured image: A view of the setting for one stage of Sphere. Australian Dance Party, 2026. Photo: © Michelle Potter

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

Romeo and Juliet. The Australian Ballet (2026)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 10 May 2026

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

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

Invitation to the Dance. Salut! Baroque

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 28 April 2026

Featured image: Portrait of Aimee Brown. Photo: © Peter Hislop.

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

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

Aladdin. Victorian State Ballet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 24 April 2026.

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

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

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

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

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