Mettle. Quantum Leap Australia

My review of Mettle was published online by CBR CityNews on 25 July 2026, following its opening performance in Canberra on 24 July. The review below is a slightly enlarged version of the CityNews post. Follow this link to the CityNews review.

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24 July, 2026. The Vault, Dairy Road Precinct, Fyshwick (Canberra)

‘It’s time to test your mettle,’ says media advertising for the latest production from Quantum Leap Australia. Mettle, the production, had choreography by Alice Lee Holland and Jack Ziesing, with a soundscape by Sascha Budimski, visuals from Creswick Collective and lighting from Holland, Zeising, Ninian Donald and Owen Davis.

The venue was The Vault, located in the Dairy Road Precinct in Fyshwick, an industrial area of Canberra. The Vault is often referred to as a ‘cave’ or ‘concrete bunker’ as a result of its somewhat vast, windowless space without any theatrical trappings. In fact, it was originally a space used to store coins, and later beer, and it has become an ideal space for immersive productions with the audience usually surrounded on three sides by various aspects of the production.

But rather than having a strongly felt immersive aspect to it, the production of Mettle was more like watching dancing on a knife’s edge. While the soundscape, the lighting and the changing visuals were there to be noticed, the focus was more on what would happen next. How would the dancers manage what seemed from the beginning to be a challenging situation for them?

Thirteen dancers of varying ages began quietly in a line at the back of the performing space and walked slowly forward. But one by one they fell to the floor and began twisting and turning, standing and falling, separately and then together in various combinations. The choreography was highly complex and mostly fast-moving with some sections quite acrobatic and others, such as movements of the fingers, quite small but clear and intense.

Groupings in the early stages looked unstructured as bodies seemed to fall on top of each other in a jumble. Some of the connections between dancers, such as a duet between the two male members of the cast, even looked full of hostility.

A group of dancers in *Mettle,* Quantum Leap Australia, 2026. Photo: © Olivia Wikner, O&J Wikner Photography

As the work moved along, however, there were moments when the jumbled look gave way to a structure that was more ordered and even a little symmetrical. As the end approached, the choreography continued its speed and power and, after a solo by one dancer, a stillness as we had seen at the beginning returned. Had the mettle been tested and had resilience emerged?

Solo dancer in *Mettle*, Quantum Leap Australia, 2026. Photo: © Olivia Wikner, O&J Wikner Photography

Costumes by Aleisa Jelbart were the strongest collaborative element. Jelbart had created thirteen different designs, one for each dancer. They consisted of black and grey items—tops, pants (some short and tight, some long and loose), socks and leggings, arm coverings and other elements. Some items of costuming looked grungy and torn, others fashionable in a present-day style. They added an excellent element to the production and to the diversity of the dancers, a diversity of age, size and experience.

Mettle was a production that must have been quite exhausting for the dancers. It was an hour of almost continuous movement from every dancer. They attacked the choreography, with its continuing and spectacular twists and turns, and its ongoing interpersonal connections, with determination and skill. They demonstrated clearly that dancing on a knife’s edge has a strength and ultimately an influence on an audience.

Michelle Potter, 25 July 2026

Featured image: A moment from Mettle, Quantum Leap Australia, 2026. Photo: © Olivia Wikner, O&J Wikner Photography

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

Macbeth. Royal New Zealand Ballet

25 February 2026. St James Theatre, Wellington

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MIchelle Potter, 27 February 2026

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

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

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

New Breed 2025. Sydney Dance Company

3 December 2025. Carriageworks, Eveleigh (Sydney)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 5 December 2025

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

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

Continuum. Sydney Dance Company

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michelle Potter, 25 October 2025

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

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

New Breed. Sydney Dance Company, 2023

9 December 2023. Carriageworks, Eveleigh (Sydney)

New Breed, an annual program of new works from four emerging choreographers, celebrated its tenth year in 2023. While I haven’t seen all ten seasons, two works from previous seasons stand out in my mind—Melanie Lane’s WOOF from 2017, which has gone on to have main stage performances and has lost none of its brilliant approach to choreography and theme, and Reign in 2015 from Daniel Riley, who is now artistic director of Australian Dance Theatre. For me, however, none of the fours works in the 2023 season, one each from choreographers Riley Fitzgerald, Eliza Cooper, Tra Mi Dinh and Beau Dean Riley Smith, had anywhere near the same impact as the two works I remember so clearly from the past. Unfortunately! But then I guess we can’t expect necessarily that every season will have a work that is so good that it remains in the memory for years.

From a purely visual point of view, Eliza Cooper’s Revenge tales and romance looked spectacular with its remarkable, colour-drenched costumes designed by Aleisa Jelbart. But it was hard to follow what exactly Cooper was getting at. After reading the program notes, it seems there were many thoughts (too many) going through Cooper’s mind as she put the work together. Brazen heroism? The appropriateness of symbolism and archetype? Legacy and canon? And so on. Dance doesn’t lend itself to a multitude of abstract ideas in my opinion and I found Revenge tales and romance entertaining in some respects, but frustrating to follow in many others.

Scene from *Revenge tales and romance*. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Choreographically I particularly enjoyed Tra Mi Dinh’s Somewhere between ten and fourteen, which explored the changing light of the period of dusk. Although it seemed rather long (even though it lasted just 22 minutes), it was well constructed with its group of dancers changing patterns and moving through space quite nicely. With just one major idea at its centre, it was a work that spoke clearly and allowed further, personal thoughts to emerge at times.

Riley Fitzgerald’s EverybOdy’s gOt a bOmb (and yes, the upper case O in three spots is how it was spelled) was based on several distressing events that occurred during the 1999 Woodstock Festival in Rome, New York State. Fitzgerald’s program notes says his work explores ‘raw, primal behaviours that emerge during such chaotic events’. The choreography was sometimes ugly (appropriate given the theme?) in its groupings, and it was certainly chaotic, but, a little like Cooper’s work, it was not an easy topic to follow.

Having been a longtime admirer of Beau Dean Riley Smith’s work as a dancer and occasionally choreographer with Bangarra Dance Theatre, I had been looking forward to his Gubba, a work in which he set out to examine the demolition of First Nation’s peoples over time by white colonists. It was a great topic and well worth telling through an Indigenous perspective. I admired the choreography, with overtones of Bangarra vocabulary, but it was a shame I thought that Smith chose to think of the colonists as akin to Martians. The word ‘gubba’, which gave its name to the work, is defined in the Macquarie Dictionary as ‘n. Aboriginal English, (oft. derog.) a white man’. That was enough to reflect an opinion, especially given the derogative nuance of the word, and perhaps it was somewhat unnecessary to go ‘off the planet’ as it were.

New Breed, produced with a principal partnership from the Balnaves Foundation, is a terrific initiative and, despite my various misgivings, I look forward to seeing another iteration in 2024. You never know what and who might emerge.

Michelle Potter, 18 December 2023

Featured image: (l-r) Eliza Cooper, Beau Dean Riley Smith, Tra Mi Dinh and Riley Fitzgerald. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Alice Topp’s Paragon. The Australian Ballet

13 May 2023. Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

‘Paragon’ is a noun that means ‘a model of perfection and excellence’. The Australian Ballet’s resident choreographer, Alice Topp, set out in her latest production, named Paragon, to demonstrate something of the excellence and perfection (or attempts at perfection perhaps since perfection is something that we can only hope to achieve), which has characterised the past 60+ years since the Australian Ballet gave its first performance in 1962.

Following the overture to Christopher Gordon’s very danceable score, Paragon began with three performers on stage, one holding a swathe of white translucent fabric onto which were projected images of dancers from earlier Australian Ballet days. Once the white cloth was removed, the use of images from earlier eras was projected largely onto vertical panels positioned upstage, and continued as a significant feature of the work. The outstanding audio-visual editing was by Ario Dean Cook.

But links to the past were also featured as several former Australian Ballet dancers worked among and with current dancers. David McAllister and Paul Knobloch appeared with current dancers in a powerful section called ‘Quake’, for example. Then some of the most moving scenes were ‘Saudade’ (meaning ‘Yearning’) with Fiona Tonkin and Adam Bull, ‘Home’ with Lucinda Dunn and Joseph Caley, and ‘Sehnsucht Couple’ with Madeleine Eastoe and Marcus Morelli (with Sehnsucht also meaning ‘Yearning’ or ‘Desire’). In each of these the choreography was filled with unusual lifts, extraordinary extensions of the legs, bounding jumps and jetes, and other twists and turns of the body, often in an uncompromisingly upside down position or across the floor. And every dancer, retired or not, performed with more than admirable strength and exactitude, perhaps even bordering on perfection.

Fiona Tonkin and Adam Bull in ‘Saudade’ in *Paragon*. The Australian Ballet, 2023. Photo: © Daniel Boud

A scene that I found fascinating was ‘Vogue’, which made reference to the Australian Ballet’s commissioning of designers. In the background we saw projected images of various designs on paper for past Australian Ballet productions, while onstage every dancer wore something contemporary and quite ‘vogue-ish’, often a jacket worn over a sparse costume, mostly of bikini-like proportions. Costumes for Paragon were by Aleisa Jelbart, with set and lighting by Jon Buswell.

Jessica Thompson in a scene from ‘Vogue’ from *Paragon*. The Australian Baller 2023. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Yes, there was a strong feeling of nostalgia as the work progressed, which perhaps came to a head in the final section when Kirsty Martin and Steven Heathcote led the finale. But Paragon also gave the audience a remarkable look at Topp as a choreographer. It showed her working with a vocabulary that is clearly one of contemporary ballet, pushing boundaries, and thinking outside the square when it comes to what ballet can present in a narrative sense. Within it all was a beautiful tribute to the history of the Australian Ballet.

Paragon was part of the Australian Ballet’s double bill called Identity. THE HUM by Daniel Riley was the other work on the program. See below for a list of those retired performers who contributed to Paragon.

Michelle Potter, 14 May 2023

Retired dancers appearing in Paragon:
Simon Dow, Lucinda Dunn, Madeleine Eastoe, Steven Heathcote, Paul Knobloch, Sarah Lehmann (Peace), Kirsty Martin, David McAllister, Marilyn Rowe, Leanne Stojmenov, Jessica Thompson and Fiona Tonkin.

(left-right) Madeleine Eastoe, Jake Mangakahia and Sarah Peace in rehearsal. Photo: © Rainee Lantry

Scene from 'Anima', Sydney Dance Company, 2016. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Untamed. Sydney Dance Company

19 October 2016. Roslyn Packer Theatre, Walsh Bay, Sydney

The latest program from Sydney Dance Company—a double bill with the title Untamed—showed once again what a high energy, physically accomplished company Sydney Dance is. Gabrielle Nankivell’s Wildebeest opened the evening and opened it in an extraordinary manner with a solo from Bernhard Knauer. ‘The wildebeest as image morphs easily between living animal and fanciful creature’ writes choreographer Nankivell in her program note and Knauer was given movements that were eccentric, idiosyncratic, half human, half beast. The wildebeest was never quite sure of his true nature (or her nature as the case may be since Knauer alternates in the role with Juliette Barton). But the animal struggles to be born into the world with a shudder and a shake and often a kind of liquid movement within those animal limbs.

From the opening solo the work proceeds through a series of further solos, duets, trios and quartets and, against the pack-like, wild and wilful movements, a certain vulnerability creeps in at times when small, intricate movements of the head, hands, fingers and other extremities of the body become visible. Then there are sections where the entire cast moves in a mechanical fashion, like clockwork. And yet, within these sections, we often see a single dancer moving erratically through the order like a misfit in an ordered world. A powerful duet from Todd Sutherland and Holly Doyle had antagonistic overtones while Janessa Dufty stood out throughout the work, especially in her closing solo.

For better or worse we have become accustomed to dark lighting of contemporary dance these days but, for once, Wildebeest’s gloomy lighting (by Benjamin Cisterne), which was punctuated by sudden, sharp, completely unexpected flashes of brightness, was appropriate to the theme of the work. I was lucky, however, to be sitting quite close to the action so I’m not sure how the gloom looked from further back. A soundscape by Luke Smiles rode beautifully with the action. Its sounds were often as startling and unexpected as the movement but, like the lighting, totally appropriate for the nature of the work. Smiles and Nankivell have been working together for several years now and their understanding of each other’s work was clearly evident. I admired Fiona Holley’s simple, easy-flowing, red earth coloured costumes.

Scene from 'Wildebeest', Sydney Dance Company, 2016. Photo: © Pedro Greig — Scene from *Wildebeest*, Sydney Dance Company, 2016. Photo: © Pedro Greig

After the extremes and idiosyncracies of Wildebeest, the second work on the program, Rafael Bonachela’s new work, Anima, had something of a romantic feel to it. True, its choreography was highly physical and without a narrative line in the manner we have come to expect from Bonachela. But along with the extended limbs, the partnering involving turning, twisting bodies being flung about, and the fast and thrilling movement around the stage, there were moments that were thoughtful in nature, when a humanistic approach seemed to surface.

Anima opened strongly with a duet between Juliette Barton and Izzac Carroll, which in particular showed off Barton’s delicious, long-limbed extensions and her absolute control of every movement. But at the heart of Anima is a male duet, long and intimate, although punctuated by occasional tension, between Cass Mortimer Eipper and Petros Treklis. The male duet has become something of a signature element for Bonachela and this one, which required huge stamina and body strength from Eipper and Treklis, was filled with exceptional moments when we had to ponder at the nature of the relationship between the two protagonists.

Group sections broke up the focus on duets, trios and quartets and Sydney Dance Company dancers have a remarkable facility for unison dancing, which always surprises me given the speed at which the dancers are usually asked to move in such sections and the individual qualities Bonachela’s dancers always display in their work. Bonachela’s group sections give me a shiver of excitement.

Lighting for Anima was also by Cisterne and several sections were lit red. Sometimes we also saw abstracted, coloured shapes dancing across the back screen. I’m not sure that these coloured lighting effects offered anything additional to Anima and I would have preferred the more ordered (or less colourful and fanciful) approach that usually marks Cisterne’s designs. There was enough emotion generated by the music from Bulgarian-born, London-based Dobrinka Tabakova, and from Bonachela’s intuitive response to this music, Insight for string trio, created by Tabakova in 2002. Aleisa Jelbart’s white/grey costumes occasionally looked too much like underwear for my liking, but luckily there was so much else to focus on that they didn’t detract too much from the overall experience.

Anima was greeted with tumultuous applause. People stood, a few left their seats and rushed towards the stage, while the dancers taking their bows could not hide their pleasure at this response. But of the two works Wildebeest was, for me, the more thrilling, more creative, more satisfying work.

Michelle Potter, 23 October 2016

This review was originally published on DanceTabs at this link.

Those who were lucky enough to see this show on opening night were, I feel sure, taken by the colourful T-shirt worn by Bonachela as he took a curtain call with his collaborators. The message on it read: Say ‘I do’ Down Under.

Dance diary. August 2015

New Breed: Sydney Dance Company

Early in August Sydney Dance Company announced the four recipients of commissions to create works for the company’s New Breed initiative. Kristina Chan, Fiona Jopp, Bernhard Knauer and Daniel Riley will present their dances at Carriageworks in a season running from 8 to 13 December. Commissions have also gone to independent designers Matt Marshall and Aleisa Jelbart, and musician/composers Nick Thayer, James Brown, Jürgen Knauer, Toby Merz and Alicia Merz, who will contribute to the creation of the works, which will be performed by artists from Sydney Dance Company.

The four New Breed 2015 choreographers . Photo: Peter Greig — The four ‘New Breed’ choreographers for 2015 (l-r: Fiona Jopp, Kristina Chan, Daniel Riley and Bernhard Knauer). Photo: Peter Greig

Don Quixote: the film

During my recent foray into the career of Lucette Aldous, as a result of Sue Healey’s short film on Aldous, I came across the photograph below.

Lucette Aldous and Robert Helpmann in rehearsal for the film, 'Don Quixote', the Australian Ballet 1972. Photo: Don Edwards — Lucette Aldous and Robert Helpmann in rehearsal for the film, *Don Quixote*. The Australian Ballet 1972. Photo: Don Edwards. Courtesy National Library of Australia

I had always understood that it was very hot in those Essendon hangars where the Don Quixote production was filmed. From this image it appears that perhaps it was quite cold at times!

Harry Haythorne choreographic awards

The Royal New Zealand Ballet and the Ballet Foundation of New Zealand have announced two new choreographic awards to honour Harry Haythorne, artistic director of Royal New Zealand Ballet from 1981 to 1992. There will be two studio showings of new works choreographed by company dancers who will be in the running for two awards, one to be decided by a panel headed by present artistic director Francesco Ventriglia, and the other a People’s Choice award funded by money raised at the memorial event for Haythorne held in January. Dates for the showings are 12 and 13 September in the Royal New Zealand ballet studios, Wellington.

Press for August

‘Moving tribute to those who served.’ Review of Reckless Valour, QL2 Dance, The Canberra Times, 1 August 2015, p. 16. Online version.

‘Dalman and Jones going into dance Hall of Fame.’ Feature on the 2015 Australian Dance awards, The Canberra Times, 27 August 2015, ‘Times 2’, p. 6. Online version.

Michelle Potter, 31 August 2015