2 December 2022. Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane
I have fond memories of watching a production of Nutcracker pretty much every Christmas as a young ballet student in Sydney and it is great to see Queensland Ballet making their Nutcracker (choreographed by Ben Stevenson originally in 1976) a Brisbane tradition. Every production has its high points and the highlight for me in this Queensland Ballet performance was the snow scene where Clara (Chiara Gonzalez) is transported, after her encounter with the Nutcracker and his fight with the army of rats, to the Kingdom of the Sweets via a snowy landscape. The appearance of the Snow Queen gave me a frisson of excitement to begin with and as the dancing progressed the goose bumps continued. Mia Heathcote as the Snow Queen and Patricio Revé as the Prince danced exceptionally well both in solos and pas de deux, and the snowflake corps de ballet were also a delight to watch. The set for this section (sets by Thomas Boyd) reminded me of a trip way back in December 2007 through the snowy Kit Carson Forest, in New Mexico.
Then there was the orchestra playing that moving section of Tchaikovsky’s score with the addition of the Voices of Birralee from St Peter’s Lutheran College Choir. It was all just glorious and, to the amazement of everyone (at least those where I was sitting), snowflakes fell on us as the lights went up for interval!*
But to the production as a whole: the opening scenes were filled with action as guests enjoyed themselves at the Christmas party that opens the ballet. The stage space was a little crowded, however, and the action rather too full of pantomime-style behaviour for my liking. It weakened the presence of Dr Drosselmeyer (Alexander Idaszak) and his two sets of dolls, and the other various activities that have prominence in these scenes. There were just too many people trying to dominate the action of the party.
But as Clara retired to bed and the army of rats and the soldiers who fight the rats arrived, the production became easier to watch. There were some lovely humorous moments, including when ‘nurse rats’ arrived, with one waving a white flag and others carrying a stretcher, to carry off the injured body of the King Rat. The King Rat had just a brief role but Vito Bernasconi, who danced the part on opening night, was an outstanding interpreter of Stevenson’s expressive choreography of twists, bends and jumps that gave such character to the role—and Desmond Heeley’s costume was exceptional.
Act II was very ‘sweetish’ with little cakes and other sweet items decorating the set and a bunch of cooks rushing in and out with their items for Clara to taste. Some of the entertainment, watched by Clara and the cooks, was somewhat different in Stevenson’s version from what many older folks might remember. For example, the Russian gopak usually a dance for more than one man, was a solo brilliantly performed by Bernasconi, and the Chinese Dance (Mali Comlecki and Luke DiMattina) was highly acrobatic and was akin to a martial arts demonstration. The always-anticipated Waltz of the Flowers showed Lucy Green and David Power dancing the lead couple with exception fluidity and grace.
The grand pas de deux was danced on opening night by Yanela Piñera as the Sugar Plum Fairy and Patricio Revé as her Prince and once more I was especially impressed by Revé as a partner. He is completely engaged with whomever he partners, and in whatever role he performs. Watching Piñera was a joy too as from the relatively close seat I had I could see how every tiny move she made filled the space around her. Beautiful dancing from both artists.
From a different point of view, I have much admiration for Nigel Gaynor, Queensland Ballet’s conductor and musical arranger. I have always been impressed by the collaborative way he works and this time I was sitting close enough to see just how he engaged with the dancers, even applauding at various stages (baton still in hand), when a solo or pas de deux was especially spectacular.
Despite my comments on the opening party scenes of this production, it was a treat to see this Nutcracker danced so beautifully across the evening by the hugely talented team that makes up Queensland Ballet these days.
Michelle Potter, 4 December 2022
* I’m not sue what the ‘snow’ was except that it wasn’t bits of white paper. Perhaps water, slightly frozen? But this delightful addition to audience experience has never happened to me before.
26 November 2022 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
After watching Kunstkamer earlier this year, I felt such positivity about the future direction of the Australian Ballet under the direction of David Hallberg. I wrote, ‘Kunstkamer is a complete change for the Australian Ballet. It is a magnificent, brilliantly conceived, exceptionally performed work giving audiences (and perhaps even the dancers) a whole new look at what dance can achieve, and maybe even what we can expect for the next several years under Hallberg?’ After Instruments of dance I am not so sure about those expectations. I found Instruments of dance, which consisted of three works by choreographers working across the world today, decidedly underwhelming, and as my companion succinctly put it, ’Things can only get better.’
The program opened with Wayne McGregor’s Obsidian tear, which I first saw in London in 2018. Then I found it a cold work. This time it certainly wasn’t cold, in fact it was the opposite. After the opening emotion-filled duet, it showed anger, aggression and even a sense of hatred and ill feeling between the nine members of the all-male cast. It was a comment by McGregor, to my mind anyway, on aspects of sexuality. But what bothered me on this occasion was the choreography, which was often full of McGregor’s body-bending movement, but at other times seemed really static with dancers simply standing with arms in geometric shapes. Somehow it didn’t come together as a unified whole and I remain convinced that Obsidian tear is not one of McGregor’s outstanding works, despite some extraordinary and heart-wrenching moments.
The middle work on the program, Annealing, came from Alice Topp, whose brilliant Aurum remains fixed in my mind four years after I saw it first. Annealing means, we are told, ‘ the process of heating metal or glass to a temperature below its melting point in order to make it softer’. It began with a startling duet, which was followed by an equally startling group section. The duet was dressed simply and elegantly but the costumes for the group section that followed were extravagantly designed, to put it mildly, with all dancers wearing gold clothing that concealed most of the working body. This of course limited the kind of movement that could be executed and in this group section Topp often focused on unison movements of the arms and hands, and bends of the upper body. This looked fine when unison was strongly executed but it was really a dance for costumes more than anything.
Justin Peck’s Everywhere we go closed the program. It had, perhaps not surprisingly, a strong American look given that Peck is currently artistic director of New York City Ballet and was a dancer with the company for many years. It had a distinct show bizz feel, which I would enjoy (perhaps) if I went to see a musical but it was frustrating to say the least when in the repertoire of a ballet company. It was repetitious and in fact the audience clapped and cheered at one point thinking that the work had come to an end. But it hadn’t and it continued in its repetitious manner for several more minutes. In addition to many fast turning steps (a little a la Balanchine), Peck used lines of dancers whose numbers grew and diminished constantly and also often used what to my mind were quite ugly poses in which the dancers lent forward with curved backs that somehow mirrored the statically held, curved arms that accompanied the leaning. Then there was all that grinning out to the audience. No thanks.
As a subscriber (I am not regarded as a legitimate reviewer apparently and so do not enjoy any reviewer privileges), I paid $236 to see this show. It is a big price to pay for a program that delivered little that I could admire and enjoy. I am hoping I will see something better next year.
Book by Michelle Potter. Published by FortySouth Publishing, Tasmania reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
The first word of appreciation for this book should go to its design and visual appeal. A well-made paperback volume of good weight and proportion, it feels right in the hand, and its pages stay open (instead of closing themselves as typical paperbacks annoyingly do). In addition the ink of the text sits bright on the page rather than being absorbed into the paper, so that by running your hand over the page you discover a kind of braille, a little dance for your fingertips, in a haptic pleasure I don’t recall noticing in other volumes (clever designer).
The front cover image is Murphy the man, in dance profile and grinning, the back cover Graeme the young schoolboy, smiling his pleasure for the ice cream sundae he has just enjoyed. The front endpaper has a curtain-call lineup of applause—the back endpaper has Murphy acknowledging that applause—with a facing image of Graeme and his life and work partner, Janet Vernon, back to back. Their combined lifetime contribution to dance in Australia receives tribute in every chapter of the book (heroic couple, generous author).
The frontispiece photo has Graeme Murphy en l’air, not in some balletic cliché of soaring jeté or flying leap, limbs outspread, striving beyond gravity, where aspiration replaces destination. This is not any role performed but the man himself, right here, right now, in the middle of the page, looking straight at you, the reader. Hello.
Simultaneous movement in both upward and downward directions is implied. The single vertical stroke of the svelte elevated dancer in white trousers and loose-lapelled jacket, legs pointing down with pencil sharp engaged feet in an exquisite fifth position displaying all the stylised turnout that ballet requires of a dancer, (but none of the distorted overarched eagle feet sometimes displayed by those more interested in virtuosity than in dialogue or eloquence). Meantime the upper body is that of a relaxed and graceful man, hands tucked into large pockets, an enigmatic smile hovering around his lips. The floor is not shown in the photo so the image is of a dancer enduringly airborne, not one ounce of the effort involved in an elevation of this order allowed to show. Dancing masters of the Italian Renaissance had a term for this quality—sprezzatura/‘divine nonchalance’—as though to say ‘Look—leaping like this is as easy as breathing. I’ll teach you how to do it if you like.’ Yeah right. It’s a graceful yet wonderfully cheeky portrait, inviting readers into the book (gifted dancer, clever photographer). I savoured the photo for a day before starting to read the text. Felt as though I had been dancing.
The book title is borrowed from Murphy’s first major choreography, Glimpses, 1976. The astonishing photograph from that work reveals his early theatrical vision, with Janet Vernon standing tall on the chest of dancer Ross Stretton.
Eight chapters celebrate Murphy’s choreographic works in thematic rather than chronological treatment, mainly through excerpts selected from reviews Michelle has written over the years. It has been a colossal choreographed body of work. Over and over Murphy’s collaborations with design artists and composers are acknowledged and there is much discussion of the Australian content within the works, by dint of those collaborations rather than simply in local narratives or settings.
I thoroughly enjoyed reminders of those of Murphy’s works we have seen in New Zealand — with design by Kristian Fredrikson, the striking Orpheus for the RNZBallet’s celebrated Stravinsky centenary season in 1982, devised by artistic director Harry Haythorne. Our company also staged The Protecting Veil the following decade. Sydney Dance Company visited with Shining (I recall a mighty performance from New Zealand dancer Alfred Williams). They returned with Some Rooms, a fine work which appealed to audiences wider than just dance aficionados. Berlin was a major work that well warranted the trip to Auckland then, so of interest now to learn of the creative processes of its music ( with Iva Davies and Icehouse) and design (by Andrew Carter).
I also saw Mythologia in Sydney, 2000, though I retain much livelier memories of the inspired Nutcracker, The Story of Clara, and of the remarkable Swan Lake for Australian Ballet. Harry Haythorne had roles in these two works, but it was his tap-dancing-on-roller-skates routine in Tivoli that warranted yet another trip across the Tasman, to see the hilariously entertaining yet simultaneously poignant production. The closing image has never left me.
It’s also a good memory that Murphy invited New Zealand choreographer Douglas Wright to stage his legendary Gloria, to Vivaldi, on Sydney Dance Company.
Once when I was visiting Harry in Melbourne, he took a phone call from Graeme and I recall a very long conversation, more than an hour, with loads of laughter while Harry winked and indicated I should continue browsing his bookshelf. They were clearly best of mates with a great deal of respect for each other’s work.
There’s another synergy one can appreciate: Graeme’s work, Grand, was made for and dedicated to his mother—and Michelle has made and dedicated this book to her own mother who died recently.
The book’s text is succinct and its themes clearly delineated. My paraphrasing would not be nearly as useful as my encouragement to you to find and enjoy it for yourself (lucky reader).
Jennifer Shennan, 19 November 2022
Featured image: Cover image (excerpt) of Glimpses of Graeme. Full cover reproduced below.
16 November 2022. Te Whaea Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
This year’s Performance Season by New Zealand School of Dance offers two programs that alternate throughout a ten-day season. The opening program has five works all choreographed by Loughlan Prior, performed by the school’s stream of classical ballet students. The following evening has five works each by a different choreographer, performed by contemporary dance students.
Loughlan Prior graduated from NZSD, followed a performing career and has more recently become a full-time free-lance choreographer. Even as a student he knew the pull towards choreography and has already a prolific output, one could say outpouring, of both short and full-length works, including a number of dance films, to his credit. His works have been seen widely in New Zealand and also staged in a number of countries abroad.
His pithy and helpful program notes are reproduced here since they don’t need re-writing…
Storm Surge Music: Matteo Sommacal, The Forgotten Strains (For Piano and String Quartet); Exile Upon Earth: 3. Pensive; Follow It Blindly (For Piano and Cello); The Sign of Gathering (For Piano and String Quartet) Costume Design: Max de Roy Inspired by the wild weather of Wellington, this newly created work explores the drama, beauty and fragility of the human body. Placed within varying environments, small fragments of movement are pieced together to create a complex matrix of shifting forms and patterns. The dancers are seen to dart and weave through a vibrant landscape evoking turbulent skies
The opening section in low light had a mesmerising quality in arm movements suggesting the ebb of kelp tossed in the tide. Next a duo of abstract movement in unison, followed by a sequence with emotion newly introduced, gave the sense that the choreography was evolving through layered references, the weather outside towards the weather inside. All eight dancers were focussed and in form for this premiere performance, with Aidan Tully particularly noticeable in the cast.
Verse Music: Antonio Martin Y Coll, Differencias sobre las Folias Physical calligraphy. A script embodied in flesh dedicated to Wellington arts patron, the late David Carson-Parker
Verse, a solo, beautifully performed by Joshua Douglas, is a carefully chiselled transition of a 17th century sarabande towards a contemporary sensibility. Prior has taken the minimalism of baroque dance movement vocabulary, through which intense emotion can be conveyed, from its iteration as the legendary Folies d’Espagne. The first known review of a dance performance in European literature is of a sarabande, by François Pomey mid 1660s, and I’ve yet to come across a finer account of a danced performance in any era. I’m drawn to art that reminds us infinity lies in both directions, ever outward, ever inward, as we walk backwards into the future. I would vote Verse as my favourite work from both programs if it were a competition, which thankfully it’s not.
(Verse takes its strength from the single music source, Diferencias sobre las Folias, theme and variations by Antonio Martin Y Coll, superbly rendered by Jordi Savall and Hesperion XX1. In contrast, a number of the other dances across both evening’s programs use excerpts from many different music sources for a single dance work, leaving a choreography to devise its own structure, predictably with varying degrees of coherence).
Curious Alchemy Music: L.v Beethoven String Quartet no.3, op.130; C.Saint-Saens, String Quartet no 1, op.112 This short work was commissioned for students of the Canadian National Ballet School for a festival in 2017.
Four dancers in smart red contoured leotards moved with an attractive energy, conveying a playful mood of youthful enthusiasm. MIguel Herrera was particularly immersed in the humour of the style.
Time Weaver Music: Philip Glass, Metamorphosis This hypnotic and seemingly infinite, arrangement of Glass’ work for harp is symbolic of our relationship with the continuum of time and the perceived linear passage in which we live our lives. Two figures are captured curving, sculpting, playing, ‘living’ inside an unending duet, an ouroboros. If the stage light was never to fade, the dance could go on forever.
India Shackel and Aidan Tully performed this sustained pas-de-deux with unflinching care and admirable command of the technical demands it makes, resulting in a ritual or prayer-like atmosphere.
Coloratura Music: N. Porpora, O. Davis, G.Giacomelli, R.Broschi – numerous excerpts. Originally created for Palucca Hochschule für Tanz Dresden, this stylish work never made it to the stage due to the Covid pandemic. Now in 2022 the piece finds a new home at NZSD and has been expended into a large ensemble work to feature the talents of every classical student. Fun, quirky and irreverent, Coloratura pays homage to the vocal mastery and comedic timing of world-renowned mezzo soprano Cecilia Bartoli. There is high energy and pure joy in every note, inspiring an infectious celebration of dance and music.
Fun, quirky and irreverent, indeed, as the excesses and extremes of staged opera are satirised. A lip-synching Diva, played by a masked Rilee Scott draped in fineries, struts the stage while he delivers many repeats of soft vague arm gestures in floating arm-covers to assist delivery of the lyrics. However the variety of would-be dynamic gestures that opera singers actually use while performing is a minefield waiting for choreographic exploration, since these are the often clumsy remnants of the earlier time when singers also danced and dancers also sang. Here a large dance chorus of attendants played backing, fronting and siding roles and one could imagine an expanded version of this piece in a heightened explosive finale with the ripped bodices and revelations of star performers in competition laid bare, as opera’s surreal characters sing and love, sing and dance, sing and suffer, sing and die, then come back to life for the curtain calls.
One suspects that Loughlan Prior finds a new dance idea every day of his waking life—and more in his dreaming life. This was a special opportunity to showcase his work on many young dancers who clearly relished their roles and gave spirited performances.
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17 November, 2022. Te Whaea Theatre, Wellington
The contemporary dance program opened with the premiere of Craig Bary’s State of Perpetuation. In an arresting beginning to a vocal section, the dancers held sculptural shapings in what was possibly the best lit work of the evening. It invited our own response, and the recurring motifs of hands quivering in wiri, or circular motions of wrist that suggested the thrust of poi movement I found both subtle and memorable.
(I know it’s important to thank the sponsors but one could hope space could be found in an 18-page printed program for a summary profile of each choreographer. Craig Bary was an exceptional student at the school years back, and later a phenomenal performer in a number of Douglas Wright’s choreographies. Dance is ephemeral enough by its nature so deserves the respect of memory within its legacy at every possible opportunity).
Midlight, choreographed by Christina Chan and Aymeric Bichon, was a duet danced by Persia Thor-Poet and Seth Ward. Their two bodies intertwined as one almost throughout, inviting thoughts about where individual identity is reshaped within a relationship.
Rubble, by Holly Newsome, had a large cast moving to vocal and percussion sections. Its theme involved the motivation needed to get up and get on with the daily dance. The song, Rise & Shine, framed the work with humour.
A Kind Tone, by Tyler Carney-Faleatua, again with a large group cast, explored the lifting of layers, both literally in swathes of draped costume, and metaphorically in regard to how a community supports individuals. Sequences of a slowly locomoting tight-knit group from which different individuals had to push and struggle to emerge, were memorable.
Sarah Foster-Sproull, another graduate from NZSD some years back, is a gifted choreographer with a major output. Her work here, To The Forest, To The Island, with music by Eden Mulholland, gave a strong cadence to the program and the dancers were galvanised into energised performances as they explored the notion of the places where we take refuge.
The work was originally conceived for film by students at Auckland’s Unitec. In this live version, a number of tube light sticks carried and positioned around the stage then reflected sequences of many bright colours which moved towards strobe effects. This seriously challenges the audience’s viewing access, and I confess my response is always to close my eyes at any time where lights are shone at the audience or strobe effects are used in the theatre. It was clear however that the committed dancers relished the chance to perform in a strong and animated choreography.
In different ways, works on both programs referenced themes of identity of individuals and of groups, as well as motivation in how to respond to challenges. The last three years of tumultuous experiences related to the global pandemic have affected life for every individual, family, neighbourhood in the country, indeed in every country on the planet. The resilience needed to adapt and continue when continuity is often the first casualty, with dance training programs probably more challenged than most enterprises, is reflected in many of these works.
To many the divide between ‘classical’ and ‘contemporary’ dance is more of an aesthetic concept than a reality in today’s professional dance world, and several of the works we saw could have been performed in either program. The school’s whakatauki or motto—Kia kōrero te katoa o te tinana/to talk with the whole body—offers encouraging reminder of the choreographic aspiration to get the physics of motion to reveal the physics of emotion.
5 November 2022. Opera House, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
When I taught Dance Studies to students at New Zealand School of Dance several decades ago, one of the sessions I enjoyed the most, and students assured me they did too, was built around the documentary of the celebrated New York City Ballet dancer, Jacques d’Amboise—He Makes Me Feel Like Dancin’ * and his associated book, Teaching the Magic of Dance.**
Each year d”Amboise would book the theatre at Lincoln Center, then through the National Dance Institute which he had founded, liaise with teachers in numerous Manhattan schools, to prepare a full-length narrated show with a cast of thousands, well, at least 1000. He would borrow artists from NYCB to play lead roles, then recruit local cops, street sweepers or truck drivers and teach them a few numbers to widen the scene. It was always the irrepressible enthusiasm and musicality in d’Amboise that proved infectious for everyone to give their best. ‘Give it a go—you don’t know if you can dance until you try’ … was his encouraging word, and the resulting film is evidence of their lift-off. Small wonder it won Academy awards, and made its mark worldwide.
A high-spirited and imaginative dance show, Roll The Dice, in a 2.5 hour long performance played twice last weekend to capacity audiences at Wellington’s Opera House. Pump Dance Studios brought what seemed like 200 young dancers together in a tightly sequenced show combining hip-hop, jazz and contemporary dance with faultless timing and spirited expression. It brought alive for me the memory of Jacques d’Amboise, who died last year aged 86, but whose legacy endures. No one who saw his fine performing or witnessed his spirited dance-making will forget him.
Roll the Dice followed the structure of a Monopoly game, with a narrative of rhyming couplets highlighting the greed that has driven so much of the world’s destruction of its natural resources. Starting with youth in protest, this became a journey of how to play the game and get out of jail without the Earth being the loser. Baddies v. Goodies played out in numerous episodes in which huge businesses, bankers, entrepreneurs, politicians, money lenders, pirates, war-profiteers and polluters were in contrast with young, hardworking and clear-thinking youth on a mission. Natural forces of water, wind, sun and air were danced and mimed into hydroelectricity, solar heating, sustainable building practices. There was a plea for the preservation of the environments for animals—meerkats, hyenas, panthers and penguins all disarmingly portrayed in dance. By re-writing the rules and disrupting the greed, The Goodies won in the end. What a heartening change from the daily news bulletins in our lives.
I particularly enjoyed the show’s atmosphere of inclusivity—there were soloists and leaders among the cast but also a sense that there’s no such thing as a minor role, and the resulting commitment was exponential in effect. There were numerous inventive ideas in lighting and staging—costume racks on wheels transformed into train carriages, onesie suits becoming hot dogs, $2 shop red bandanas signalling a band of pirates, a black net curtain reducing lives to mere shadows in death—numerous effective transitions that all prioritised ideas and imagination ahead of big budget and wardrobe. It worked so well because the narrative stayed alive at the spine of the show, and every performer believed in it. Jacques d’Amboise would have been tickled pink.
* The film is available on YouTube ** the book listed with Amazon
11 November 2022. Arc Cinema, National Film and Sound Archive, Canberra
Sue Healey’s relatively recent initiative, Intersecting Journeys, was made up of two films, Meeting Place and Alumni, both produced by Canberra’s QL2 Dance on behalf of Youth Dance Australia, with the support of the Australia Council for the Arts. Healey says that having this commission helped her through some of the most difficult times of the COVID pandemic, and watching the films it is clear that the making of them was a challenging and demanding enterprise for Healey and her team. The result is both intriguing and absorbing.
The screening in the Arc Cinema at the National Film and Sound Archive began with Meeting Place in which eight youth dance companies teamed up and shared common practices. Working in four teams each made up of dancers from two of the eight companies, they met in four different locations to connect and collaborate. Dancers from Melbourne’s Yellow Wheel teamed up with those from Austi Dance & Physical Theatre in Austinmer, New South Wales. They met where the Yarra River meets Merri Creek. Then the Indigenous youth company, Wagana, located in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales, teamed up with dancers from NAISDA College and met at Kedumba Cascades near Katoomba. Australian Dance Theatre’s youth group, Tread, was joined by Tasmania’s Stompin youth company and they performed at Sellicks Beach on the Fleurieu Peninsula out of Adelaide. Canberra’s Quantum Leap dancers teamed up with those from Newcastle’s Flipside Project run by Catapult Dance. They danced together on Newcastle Breakwater.
Harlisha Newie and Maddison Fraser from NAISDA College at Kedumba Cascades. Screenshot from Meeting Place, 2022
What stood out from these four exploratory dances was, on the one hand, the utter commitment of the young dancers who performed them and, on the other, the locations chosen, all very different but all with a watery theme. Absolutely stunning was the work of Maddison Fraser from Wagana who, without obvious trepidation, walked up the waterfall and sat down on a rock in the middle of the rushing water, as seen in the header image to this post.
But beyond the choreography, which I suspect was partly improvised, and the incredibly beautiful locations chosen, was the remarkable film work of cinematographer Richard Corfield and drone cinematographer Ken Butti, the latter seen especially strongly in relation to the Newcastle Breakwater. Their work added immensely to what was an exceptionally well directed film from Healey.
Dancers from Quantum Leap and the Flipside Project performing on Newcastle Breakwater. Still from Meeting Place, 2022
The second film was Alumni, which in many respects was a sequel to Meeting Place. Healey had identified a number of former youth company dancers who had gone on to make national and international careers in dance. As a number of them were working outside of Australia she asked all those identified to contribute footage from youth performances in which they had danced, and then to film their reaction, in a danced format, to watching that early footage. Healey then assembled the material into mini dance biographies about each dancer. It was a monumental task and Healey responded with a varied analysis of material so that the biographies, as mini as they were (given the time frame), showed up the different personalities of each dancer.
James Batchelor in a screenshot from Alumni, 2022
I enjoyed Alumni, especially when watching those whose post-youth company, professional work I have been able to follow, including James Batchelor, Jack Ziesing, Chloe Chignell, and Sam Young-Wright. But it was really Meeting Place that I found especially fascinating. Apart from the dancing and exceptional filming and directing, looking at the four locations and the way they were integrated into the dancing, I could not help thinking what a beautiful country we live in here in Australia.
Overall, however, what Intersecting Journeys made very clear was the significance of giving young dancers the positive mentoring that the best youth companies make available to them.
Watch brief excerpts from both films below.
Michelle Potter, 13 November 2022
Featured image: Maddison Fraser at Kedumba Cascades in a scene from Meeting Point in Sue Healey’s Intersecting Journeys, 2022
5 November 2022. Lake Burley Griffin and Canberra cultural institutions
There it was waiting as we arrived at Canberra’s Lawson Crescent Viewing Dock, a wharf at the edge of the site of the National Museum of Australia. It was a small orange boat holding 28 passengers and named ‘The Gull’. Formerly a fishing boat and now captained by the capable and knowledgeable Jim Patterson, it was to take us on a ‘Culture Cruise’, a four hour journey, which began and finished on Lake Burley Griffin, and which was the brainchild of the ever-adventurous Australian Dance Party.
The first leg of the trip took us across the calm and peaceful waters of the lake to Queen Victoria Wharf not far from Canberra’s Reconciliation Place. It was a relaxing ride of 20 minutes or so and it was a pleasure to see the buildings that we in Canberra know well but mostly see from a different vantage point. For those who may not know the buildings that dot Canberra’s lake shores, Captain Jim had a number of stories, historical and sometimes humour-filled, to tell.
The dancing began as we walked up to and through Reconciliation Place and continued as we crossed to the Portrait Gallery. Yolanda Lowatta danced solo during this part of the journey. She was a powerful figure in the quite simple choreography, which sometimes was performed around the structures making up the Place, and sometimes in the surrounding grassy and tree-filled landscape. Her strength had an emotional underpinning and gave rise to thoughts on the Indigenous aspects of the land on which she was dancing, and across which we were walking, Ngunnawal land.
Yolanda LowattaLevente SzaboYolanda Lowatta
From Reconciliation Place we walked on to the National Portrait Gallery where a row of seats outside the Gallery entrance awaited us. The performance began with music from jazz vocalist and composer Creswick (aka Liam Budge) who was soon joined by dancer Levente Szabo and then Lowatta. Szabo’s dancing was quite acrobatic while Lowatta’s had something of a Hispanic feel to it. They danced together and separately and their dancing, especially their interactions (sometimes also with Creswick), was always stimulating to watch. After this section of dancing we entered the Portrait Gallery and were given some time to see the art works on show, especially in the current exhibition, Who are you: Australian portraiture. Amongst a huge range of art works in the exhibition one stood out on this occasion for me, a charming head and shoulders portrait, which I had not seen before, of Dame Margaret Scott created by Kenneth Rowell in 1949.
Perhaps my favourite part of the journey came as we left the Portrait Gallery and headed in the direction of the National Gallery. We were led on this part of the journey by Levente Szabo who danced across the plaza in front of the High Court and over the bridge linking the the two well-known ‘brutalist’ buildings, the High Court itself and the National Gallery. He used the structures surrounding the buildings, and the space they occupied, in an interactive and skilful manner, and worked in a similar way as we moved past the Gallery and towards our lunch stop.
Levente Szabo on the bridge between the High Court and the National Gallery of Australia. Canberra 2022
Lunch was served at the Jetty Kiosk before we took to the boat again, with a glass of local wine, for another relaxing journey on water back to our starting point. The adventure ended in the amphitheatre at the Garden of Australian Dreams at the National Museum where we were entertained again by Creswick before being invited to experience the Museum’s newest space the Great Southern Land Gallery.
Liam Budge performing at the National Museum of Australia, Canberra 2022
Culture Cruise was created and presented by the Australian Dance Party as part of the Canberra Art Biennial. It was an extraordinarily memorable experience led by Stefanie Lekkas, a guide with a strong theatrical background, and with Indigenous cultural input from Ngunnawal advisors Aunty Caroline Hughes and Tara Hughes. It brought together over half a day so many aspects of Canberra’s cultural life—art, architecture, dance, music, food and wine and more—as well as giving an opportunity to take in the immediate landscape, the expansive lake and the beautiful surrounding mountains, the Brindabellas. While it would be an exceptional experience for visitors to Canberra, I (having lived in Canberra for 50+ years now) found so much to enjoy and think about. There are plans for Culture Cruise to continue in 2023. Do take the opportunity to join a cruise. You won’t be disappointed.
Michelle Potter, 8 November 2022
Featured image: ‘The Gull’ moored at Lawson Crescent Viewing Deck.
22 October 2022. National Portrait Gallery, Canberra
Once again the National Portrait Gallery has hosted a dance event associated with a current exhibition, the Gallery’s Who are you? Australian Portraiture. The aim of the performance, which was composed of six short works, was ‘to animate emotions and situations reflected in the portraits, expanding on still moments captured in the frames.’
Perhaps the main feature that characterised the performance as a whole was diversity. We watched a diverse range of dance practices for a start—from K-Pop to ballet and various other dance genres, and saw performances from dancers from a range of age groups and a range of abilities. Some works appealed to me more than others, of which more shortly. But the aspect of the show that was instantly appealing (for non dance reasons) was the need to clear the floor after Gretel Burgess’ Today I am, a work dealing with life’s journey. The cleaning up was needed after the dancers released into the air handfuls of small blue squares of what looked like cellophane. Those bits of paper defied the brooms that were trying hard to sweep them up after the dancers had left the performance space and, in the end, members of the audience set about helping by picking up the bits of paper by hand. A scene from this small break in actual performance is the featured image for this post.
But to the dancing. The show opened with a performance of a new work from Miranda Wheen called A dance for the ages. Wheen was interested in creating small danced portraits of the performers, portraits that captured their dancing backgrounds. The work began with an introduction to each of the seven dancers in the form of a short pre-recorded interview. We were then able to watch as each dancer, separately and then together, gave us a physical insight into their manner of dancing. The standout dancer was Cameron Ong whose energy was unmatched and who threw himself into every movement with gusto. He stole the show I have to say and Wheen’s very thoughtful work would have had more appeal with more dancers who were able to make visible the kind of energy and commitment that Ong showed.
Of the rest of the works, two stood out for me. Firstly there was the K-Pop style The Feels with choreography from Kiel Tutin and danced by eight young female dancers. What was enticing about The Feels was the joy in moving expressed by these young women. Not being K-Pop expert myself, I have no idea whether or not the dancers were experts in the style. But I loved watching them, loved the way they were dressed, and loved how they grouped, regrouped and generally moved separately and together.
Scene from The Feels. Out of the Frame (Canberra Dance Theatre), 2020
Then there was Carol Brown’s Imperium, rehearsed by Philip Piggin and performed by Cathy Coombs and Canberra’s GOLD dancers. Imperium was a strong work examining power and authority, and the use and abuse of those concepts in our everyday lives. In her program notes Brown uses the words pomp, ceremony, arrogance, sycophancy, political exile, gang warfare, domestic violence and factional plotting. Those concepts were all there in the choreography and the acting. Costuming, which I have to assume came from the wardrobes of the dancers, added to the strength of the work as did the selection of music (another example of diversity this time within one work)—excerpts from Prokofiev’s score for Romeo and Juliet and On the acceptance of imperfections (The Rite of Stravinsky) by Milos Sofrenovic. The GOLD dancers were absolutely outstanding in drawing us into the concepts Brown was examining and were exceptional at maintaining character from beginning to end.
Scene from Imperium. Out of the Frame (Canberra Dance Theatre), 2020
Two other works on the program were In likeness and movement choregraphed by Josh Freedman on the relationship between portraiture and ballet, and Rachael Hilton’s Opsimath never stop.
I’m not sure how closely or effectively some of the works connected with the exhibition, or indeed with the concept of portraiture. But it was more than interesting to speculate on how life experiences affect performance. The young women in the K-Pop work were clearly part of present day society and culture and took on the dance style involved with ease. On the other hand the GOLD dancers, who are part of a dance group of older individuals, have most likely experienced many of the ideas of power and authority being examined in Carol Brown’s Imperium and were thus able to give a stirring performance.
Michelle Potter, 23 October 2022
Featured image: Scene from Out of the Frame (Canberra Dance Theatre), 2020
14 October 2022. Canberra College Theatre. The Chaos Project, 2022
The Chaos Project for 2022 had some features that were a little different from previous Chaos seasons. The most obvious difference, and one that had an effect on how the show appeared (at least to me), was the age range of the dancers. In 2022, QL2 Dance opened its classes to a new, young age range—those aged 5 to 8—and some of the dancers in Big Little Things looked very young. Not only that, the oldest dancer was about 18 whereas on previous occasions dancers in their early twenties had appeared. I have nothing but praise for the way all the dancers performed—and there were many moments of interaction between the age groups. In fact some of the very young ones were extraordinarily theatrical in the way they approached the performance. But the performance definitely had a different feel. Although the Chaos Project has never been regarded as a pre-professional event, there has always been a feeling that some dancers performing in the project were destined to move ahead. That feeling didn’t emerge so strongly on this occasion and I couldn’t help wondering why?
Big Little Things was in seven sections, although the performance, as it always is with Chaos, was a continuous one with beautifully smooth and logical connections between the end of one section and the beginning of the next. Each section looked at different ways in which we all connect with each other and choreography was by five different artists—Ruth Osborne, Alana Stenning, Patricia Hayes Kavanagh, Stephen Gow and Lilah Gow—always in collaboration with the dancers.
I especially enjoyed the opening section ‘Ripples in the Pond’, choreographed by Osborne. Its beautiful circular patterns gave real momentum to the section. But Stephen Gow’s ‘Broken Telephone’, made on the male dancers only, was also a highlight. It focused on ‘Truthless speculations, diminishing or exaggerating facts. Rumours’. It had some interesting groupings as dancers moved together and whispered to each other. It was subtle and yet obvious and contained some exceptionally fluid and expressive arm movements. I was not so thrilled with the section made for the female dancers only. Called ‘I have something to say’, it was inspired by protest and the ‘power of the voice’. A commendable subject for sure, but the very loud shouting of the sentence ‘I have something to say’ went on for too long. The point was made instantly and more dancing and less shouting would have been preferable. Ruth Osborne created the finale cum curtain call section, which was, and always is, great entertainment.
Despite a few frustrating aspects to this year’s Chaos Project, I always come away with the thrill of seeing young dancers being initiated so well into techniques of stage performance. They are always beautifully trained in how to enter and leave the stage, in how to work as a group, in how to acknowledge each other, and so on. They are always a real credit to those who work with them to produce the show.
The various media statements about Savage, Daniel Riley’s first work as artistic director of Australian Dance Theatre, leave us wondering just exactly what the work will be like. How will a dance performance deal with what one media statement says is a ’confronting exploration of the notions of myth and identity, [examining] our fundamental belief systems, and [turning] the spotlight on those who hold the power of storytelling while challenging us to question our blind obedience.’ That’s a lot to examine.
In many respects I think it was the theatre side of Australian Dance Theatre that held the piece together, rather than the dance side, if we can separate the two, which I think in this case is necessary. Dean Cross’ setting was spare and decidedly down to earth. Two large wire mesh screens on wheels (one initially covered by a grey tarpaulin-like cloth) were moved around the stage separating people, sometimes enclosing them, and sometimes being rolled over bodies lying stretched out on the floor.
A collection of white, plastic outdoor chairs also played a major role. They were thrown around the stage, piled up on each other, and used at times as a seat for standing dancers who in acts of coercion were pushed down onto them. At the very end the chairs were thrown into a messy heap located centre stage. One dancer tried to wend his way through the mess as others stood aside and watched. How to find one’s way through the mess of history?
Similarly, the lighting design by Matthew Adey seemed at times to glare brightly into the eyes of the dancers (and the audience) suggesting perhaps exposure and a need to pull away from received ‘wisdom’?
Then there was the dominant black circle in the centre of the performance space. At one stage it was covered by a cloth, which a dancer pulled back slowly to expose the circle. As this was happening another, trapped on the cloth, eventually was able to remove himself from it. The symbolism of escape was obvious (I think).
The six dancers who currently make up the composition of Australian Dance Theatre were augmented in Savage by Riley himself and, in the Canberra performances, by a group of emerging young performers from Canberra’s youth group QL2 Dance, where as it happened Riley received his early dance experience. The dancers were all top class performers in their respective roles and experience and the ADT company members looked especially good in group sections. Riley stood out, as he has always done with whatever company he is performing. His presence on stage has always been outstanding. Of the others I was often transfixed by Zoe Wozniak whose use of the whole body from head to toe was exceptional and whose stage presence was also outstanding. But Savage did not seem choreographically exciting or powerful, at least not often, or not often enough.
In program notes, Riley says he wants Savage ‘to encourage deeper thinking and reflection on the systems and voices who coerce our history to suit a singular vision of our country.’ Perhaps that I found so much of Savage frustratingly confusing and choreographically unexciting as the work unfolded meant that I had to reflect and think? But to tell the truth there have been other dance (and dance film) productions that have had a much greater effect on how I see Australia’s history from an Indigenous perspective, including some in which Riley has been a major player.
Australian Dance Theatre has always been a contemporary company and, especially in the past 20 years under Garry Stewart’s directorship, has pushed boundaries and unravelled complex concepts. Riley is well suited to carry on such a tradition but I’m not sure that Savage has the choreographic strength that is needed to make clear the diverse and theoretical ideas behind the work. There has to be more than the collaborative elements of design.
