Return to the Strange Land. DocEdge Film Festival

26 July 2026, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This film, directed by Olga Malířová, traces the life and work of one of the world’s foremost choreographers, Jiří Kylián, but is at the same time far more than just a conventional documentary. Rather it is an exquisitely sequenced portrayal of the rich artistic rapport between Kylián and his muse, the wonderful dancer Sabine Kupferberg. The pair pace and dance and are filmed on the sand hills, across the shoreline and into the sea along the north coast of The Netherlands.

The resonance of imagery in the film’s setting is extraordinary—the sands of time, an ocean of love, a game of chess at a picnic on the beach, a choreographer with a megaphone and a dancer whose stiletto heels keep subsiding into the sand, a wild couple frantically exchanging coats, who wear hats but cannot always keep their hats on, who stride towards each other from afar but miss the meeting, who struggle to climb a sandhill but can only slide backwards down the slope, who grow older but remember their past all the more clearly for that, who share their personal stories of exile and immigration, of upbringing in an orphanage, in an essay of time and tide, set against murmurations of seabirds—gliding gulls and migrating godwits. The scenography is as beautiful as any I’ve seen, or expect to see.

The film encompasses wider themes of loyalty and betrayal at both national and personal levels, of loss and love, of ageing and fulfilment and fate, and the rapture in the very reality of being alive, while keeping close to memories of those who have passed. There are almost unbearably poignant scenes of Kylián being invited back to his homeland after some years of enforced exile. The film points to the power and web of politics that marked so much of life in 20th century Europe.

Early in his career Kylián was in the company of John Cranko in Stuttgart; it’s worth noting that John Neumeier also gained his early career opportunities with Cranko. How fertile that legacy has proved. From their earliest dance collaboration the mutual inspiration passing between Jiri and Sabine resulted in a torrent of choreography over decades (too numerous to list all the titles here—easy for you to check Jiří Kylián‘s stylish website for that wealth of information).

Excerpts from the archive of Jiří Kylián’s choreographies are interwoven into the film, but only make you wish you could see each of the complete works. It has to be an unmatched achievement in world dance that Kylián not only put Nederlands Dans Theater on the world map but also formed a second company, NDT2, for dancers others might consider too young, then a third company, ND3, for dancers others might consider too old.

Back in 1980s Kylián ventured into outback Australia to search for the significance in Aboriginal people’s dance practice. The resulting film, Road to the Stamping Ground, stays in the memory of all who saw it.

This new film, screened here as the world premiere, also acts as a memory trigger for us of Kylián‘s powerful Soldatenmis, to Martinu’s Mass for the Unknown Soldier—memorably performed in 1990s by Royal New Zealand Ballet then under the direction of the late Matz Skoog. That proved one of the strongest works in their repertoire over decades. Also memorable was the visit of NDT to the International New Zealand Festival of Arts when they performed the moving Requiem, to Mozart’s incomparable music. A work like that can help someone who might be stuck in grief.

Local readers who may have missed the single film screening here can purchase online streaming access for the next two weeks. Sad to report viewing from outside New Zealand is not possible. That must incentivise festival programmers elsewhere to book it for their schedules. The only weak point about the film is that its title does not alert viewers to its subject. There should at least be a sub-title—Jiri Kylián, master choreographer.

Jennifer Shennan, 27 July 2026

Images courtesy of DocEdge

Winter Season. Royal New Zealand Ballet

16 July 2026. St.James Theatre, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This triple bill showcases the impressive versatility of Royal New Zealand Ballet dancers. Within a 90 minute time-frame, they perform Frederick Ashton’s Birthday Offering, a 70 year old work of highly demanding classical style, imported from England; Sarah Foster-Sproull’s Ultra Folly, a clever and quirky home-grown piece commissioned by the Company in 2020; and Andrea Schermoly’s Stand to Reason, a searingly powerful dramatic work, also an RNZB commission in 2018, from a South African choreographer but on a New Zealand subject. A number of the dancers perform in every work, revealing the wide range of their artistic and technical skills, as well as the heroic stamina demanded of them. There’s not a weak moment in the entire performance.

The much-esteemed Matz Skoog, former artistic director of RNZB, has died recently and this season is dedicated to his memory. Matz often spoke of the challenge an artistic director faces in assembling a triple bill. (It’s much ‘easier’ to stage a single complete work—start with Act One, continue on till you reach Act Four and then stop). So, what to commission and what to re-stage? to combine with what, the old and the new, the tried and the true? then in what sequence? (get this wrong and you can spoil the evening). Beauty, poetry, drama/comedy, abstract, narrative/traditional, modernist, political? and all within a credible budget. The choices made reveal the true measure of an artistic director, and with this program Ty King-Wall proves equal to the challenge.

Birthday Offering is a period piece from 1956 but even then was styled after a much earlier period of ballet’s classicism. Seven couples at a celebration perform défilés in several directions, then six of the women dance filigree solos, each styled with a hint of contrasting personality between them. The technical demands of these solos are intense but to the credit of each performer they are danced with great assurance, grace and meticulous timing. The male partners stand as pillars across the back of the stage for what seems like ages, but that’s the choreography so you can’t go changing it in Wellington. The lead couple, Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis give their exquisite pas de deux a deeply affecting quality, using port de bras in such a loving way that humanises the formal classicism of the movements involved. A pity that the Glazounov recording seems so muddy and uncelebratory—even though Robert Irving, arguably the best ballet conductor of his time, was involved in scoring the arrangements. (I once heard Irving conduct Ravel’s Tzigane at New York City Ballet, where in some kind of alchemy he merged the composition and choreography into one). Birthday Offering, staged here by England’s Royal Ballet, is meticulously faithful to the original. For some in our audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening.

Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis in a moment from *Birthday Offering*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

Ultra Folly, first commissioned here in 2018, was recently performed in London when RNZB was invited to participate the International Draft Works (IDW) season (see my earlier review on On Dancing…). Foster-Sproull has two couples in a bright and quirky commoedic play on manners, dancing with spoof and sauce, delivered with impeccable timing.

Jemima Scott and Kirby Selchow in a scene from Ultra Folly. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

It’s a far cry in style from the driving passion in the music, La Folie d’Espagne & Variations from 17th century chamber music here played by Jordi Savall and Hesperion XX1.

The IDW project is a heartening demonstration of how international co-operation in ballet is possible, and one wishes there could be more of that since ballet is not a sports code requiring one team to win and the other to lose. All are winners. Eight companies were invited to participate, so a source of pride for us all that RNZB was included. For some in our audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening.

Then comes the knockout—Stand to Reason. This is a powerful tribute to the courage and struggles in the pioneering suffragette movement led here by Kate Sheppard. Take your right to vote for granted by all means, don’t waste it, find a politician you can trust (good luck) but never forget that New Zealand led the world in that path to universal suffrage. Schermoly’s work has driven movement, with design and lighting faultlessly integrated, to the superbly motivating music of Marin Marais (such good dance music that baroque composers have left for choreographers of later generations to explore). Rarely is the theme of any dance work so intensely stitched in to every move by every dancer —here in the large cast, solely female. The solo created specially for Kirby Selchow is danced with stunning strength and commitment, and one can only salute and remember that. How good would it be to make a film of this work.

A moment from *Stand to Reason*. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court

I cannot help but be reminded of Soldatenmis, by Jiří Kylián, one of the world’s leading choreographers programmed here in the 1990s by Matz Skoog. That had a large cast, solely male, unless a female (Joan of Arc) had to step up at the last minute to replace an injured player, as did, most memorably, happen here in both of the seasons Skoog staged.

(Local readers, take note of the film in the current Documentary Film Festival—Return to the Strange Land, by and about Kylian—a single screening only, Sunday 27 July, at The Roxy, in a small theatre, inexplicably not yet sold out twice over).

A young audience member quietly said after seeing this work—’That’s the first ballet I’ve seen that doesn’t sexualise a woman waiting and waiting for some man to come and put his hands around her waist and twirl her round and round on the spot. It reminds me of karate. That was amazing.’

For some in the audience this will have been their favourite work of the evening. Count me in.

Jennifer Shennan, 21 July 2026

Featured image: A moment from Stand to Reason. Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Stephen A’Court .

Matz Skoog (1957–2026)

An obituary from Jennifer Shennan

Matz Skoog was instrumental in strengthening and developing the art and profession of dance in New Zealand during his term as Artistic Director of Royal New Zealand Ballet (1996–2001). His wife, New Zealander Amanda Skoog, was General Manager (2006–2015) and Matz was at times ballet master or rehearsal director during that term as well. There is a fine tribute to him on RNZB website.

A major interview in 2022 in the Dance Legends series hosted by English dance critic Ismene Brown (on Youtube) covers Matz’ childhood vocational training at the Royal Swedish Ballet school, his studies at the Kirov Ballet in St.Petersburg, his performing career with RSB then with English National Ballet (ENB), with Nederlands Dans Theater, Rambert Dance Company, and in several projects with Rudolf Nureyev and with Mary Skeaping. Following his term with RNZB, he was Artistic Director back at ENB from 2001–2005.

In New Zealand Matz took on management challenges with a sense of adventure while masking the hard work entailed. He always acknowledged a team effort, giving generous credit to John Page and then Sue Paterson as General Managers, and Kit Toogood as Chair of the Board. The shift to a permanent home in purpose-renovated premises of the St.James Theatre marked a milestone, and the move to direct Government funding, away from the previous Arts Council application-based funding, enabled a new era in the company’s long-term planning.

It is clear that his European training and experiences had given Matz a secure understanding of how dance heritage could contribute in contemporary times, without holding on to old history for its own sake and in this he was a both/and not an either/or man. He had no time for the ‘Control & Command’ management of some world ballet companies or schools, adopting instead an ‘Engage and Encourage’ approach in his own style of directing. He dropped the Company’s rankings of Principal, Soloist, etc., preferring to encourage the dancers to develop their individual qualities and strengths. He always wanted virtuosity to serve expression, not vice versa, and lamented that extremes of technique often replaced the poetry of alignment and épaulement.

Matz found a deep rapport in Russell Kerr whose choreographic vision and output he greatly respected. He explains in the Legends interview why he and Russell found the old divide between ‘Classical’ and ‘Contemporary’ no longer necessary or helpful for dancers today, insisting that ‘Excellence’ was the only goal. This was borne out in the broadened repertoire of new works Matz commissioned from New Zealand choreographers—not only Russell Kerr but also Douglas Wright, Michael Parmenter, Shona McCullagh, and from Eric Languet. Many Company dancers were encouraged to make work for emerging choreographic seasons.

The indelibly powerful Soldatenmis, by Jiri Kylian, to Martinu’s Mass for an Unknown Soldier, proved one of the strongest works the company ever performed. The cast requires all the company’s male dancers in full muster, a kind of resonance with the haka taparahi of Maori tradition. [When one of the male dancers was injured, Matz cast the petite and wonderful Pieter Symonds as replacement, which brought echoes of Elizabeth 1, or Joan of Arc, to the stage. In a later return season, again an injured male dancer was replaced, this time by Laura Saxon-Jones, who proved memorable in the role.]

Men of Royal New Zealand Ballet in Jiří Kylián’s *Soldatenmis* (*Soldiers Mass*), 1998. Photo: © Guy Robinson. Courtesy of Royal New Zealand Ballet

Matz himself was an inspiring teacher but also invited his long-standing friend and colleague Charles Mudry for teaching residencies at RNZB. (They both understood why a dance critic might want to study the forging of dancers in daily class in the studio rather than rely solely on fleeting performances in the theatre so, lucky me, I was invited to watch those masterclasses every day for a month. Mudry might be the best ballet master in Europe, certainly the most musical, so, even luckier me, I later watched him teach at Royal Danish Ballet in Copenhagen—different dancers, same gem of a class, meticulous attention to every gesture and every note of music, immaculately prepared, luminously communicated. We watched RDB perform Neumeier’s heart-rending ballet The Little Mermaid, but when I asked Charles which choreographer in any time or place had moved him most, his reply was instant—‘Pina Bausch of course’.) Charles and Matz were as brothers.

Other highlights of Matz’ term, all illustrated on RNZB’s website, included the national Tutus on Tour programmes which re-traced the countrywide itineraries of the Company’s early years under founding director Poul Gnatt in 1950s. The powerful Dracula gave stellar roles to leading dancers Ou Lu and Pieter Symonds, and audiences cried for more. The spirited season of Ihi FreNZy combined the Maori cultural group, Te Mātārae i Orehu, as Act One, with Mark Baldwin’s choreography to a set of songs by Split Enz, as Act Two. The project had involved a stay on the marae in Rotorua for the whole company which was an impressive step in the development of bi-cultural awareness and respect in a dance context. In the resulting performance, at the end of a forceful first act, Te Mātārae’s leader moved forward with careful steps of takahia to place a kiwi feather downstage centre just as the curtain fell. It was a small gesture but a poignant one, birds of a feather (it was probably swept up in the curtain hem, it might be still there for all we know) but in the combined haka of all Te Mātārae and RNZB at the final curtain call, you couldn’t tell by the end of the tour which dancer was from which troupe. (I see Shannon Dawson and Geordan Wilcox among them yet).

Matz continued to stay in touch with many dancers and colleagues years after he had worked with them, and remained ready to offer help and advice in his later years as coach and mentor.

The Legends interview includes an excerpt from Swansong by Christopher Bruce in which Matz had created the role of The Interrogator, in a chilling portrayal of the psychological torture to which many individuals are subjected in a range of political and social situations. He is mesmerising in the role. (I watched it on the day that the cause of Navalny’s death was revealed to the world—and the day that Obama spoke to oppose ICE and in support of protestors in Minneapolis. The theme of a choreography like Swansong is, unfortunately, always contemporary).

**********

I penned five different paragraphs to begin this obituary but deleted them all, since a cv full of dates and place names can’t begin to do justice to the ready smile and twinkling eye, the wit, friendship and optimism in the man. He was lively, spirited, and so generously ready to help. He respected the work of others and would tell them as much, making the world a better place. He coached Baroque dance in The Long Hall, intrigued that we were working from centuries-old dance notations, and coaxed a 400-year-old sarabande from a bud into a bloom. How can he be dead?

Matz’ last ‘letter to the world’ that he emailed to friends and colleagues only a fortnight before he died was poignant, honest, gracious, grateful, heartbreaking but not heart-broken, and still managed to carry the hallmark humour he was renowned for. In it he accepted the inevitable, but also quoted from Peter Pan, the brilliant ballet he had commissioned for RNZB from Russell Kerr—‘I do believe in fairies, I do believe in fairies.’ We could have replied ‘You don’t need to believe in fairies. They exist’ as Matz is now one of the spirit people hovering to remind us of all that he did, and to remember him for a long time to come.

One can only send heartfelt and deepest sympathies to his wife Amanda, and sons Sam and Louis, in the untimely loss of such a loved husband and father—and to his many worldwide friends and colleagues who respected and appreciated him immeasurably, none more so than in Aotearoa New Zealand.

Haere rā, e hoa mā, haere haere atu. Kua hinga te tõtara i te wao nui a Tāne.
(Farewell, dear friend, go now. A tōtara tree has fallen in the great forest of Tāne).

Jennifer Shennan, 20 February 2026

Featured image: Matz Skoog. Photo: © Sandy Connon. Courtesy of Royal New Zealand Ballet

Sources:
Amanda Skoog, RNZB, Anne Rowse, Keith McEwing, Ismene Brown, Daniel Belton, Lily Bones

Numerous illustrations of works mentioned are in A Time to Dance Jennifer Shennan [Royal New Zealand Ballet, 2003], and Royal New Zealand Ballet at 60 Jennifer Shennan & Anne Rowse (eds) [Victoria University Press, 2013]. A digital version of both titles is also available.

Li Cunxin honoured

Li Cunxin AO, shortly to retire as artistic director of Queensland Ballet, has been honoured by the Lord Mayor of Brisbane, Adrian Schrinner, with Keys to the City for his exceptional contribution to the arts in Brisbane. It would be hard to think of a more deserving recipient. Li has completely transformed Queensland Ballet since he took over the directorship of the company almost eleven years ago. For me it is a truly remarkable organisation and I regularly come away from performances full of admiration, pleasure, even astonishment sometimes, at what the company puts before us. Nor can I fail to be impressed by the repertoire that we have seen over the past ten years, which often reflects Li’s early career in the United States, or connections he has made elsewhere in Europe, but which also includes plenty of examples of new work from Australia choreographers—Greg Horsman, Jack Lister, Natalie Weir and others.

Clare Morehen in Natalie Weir's We who are left. Queensland Ballet, 2016. Photo: © David Kelly — Clare Morehen in Natalie Weir’s *We who are left*. Queensland Ballet, 2016. Photo: © David Kelly

An excerpt from the City of Brisbane media release reads:

Lord Mayor Adrian Schrinner said Li had left an indelible mark on Brisbane’s arts scene and his achievements would be celebrated at a ceremony later this month.

“Li has extended the dignity, grace and elegance of ballet into every aspect of his life,” Cr Schrinner said.

“Like me, I’m sure many people were saddened to hear of Li’s retirement after 11 years at the helm of Queensland Ballet.

“On behalf of Brisbane, I feel it’s appropriate to acknowledge the talent, passion and vision that has enriched our creative scene and inspired generations of dancers.”

Among his long list of national and international achievements, Li has been pivotal in the growth of the Queensland Ballet, doubling the ensemble, creating a world-class Academy at Kelvin Grove State College and a home for ballet and the arts at the Thomas Dixon Centre in West End.

“For many years, we’ve enjoyed the great privilege of witnessing Li’s achievements come to life both on and off the stage,” Cr Schrinner said.

“The Keys to the City are awarded to those who embody the ideals of Brisbane, and few people have had such a significant and enduring impact on Brisbane’s art scene.

“I can’t think of a more worthy recipient of the Keys to the City.”

“As the curtain closes on this chapter of his life, I thank Li for a lifetime of artistic excellence. It has been a true privilege to watch.”

The full release can be read at this link. See also this tag for more about Li on this website.

Li Cunxin rehearsing dancers for *Swan Lake*, 2018. Photo: © David Kelly

Of course, there is still plenty to look forward to ‘before the curtain closes’. I am especially looking forward to the return of Strictly Gershwin, which opens later in September in Brisbane and to a revival of Liam Scarlett’s highly rewarding production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which Queensland Ballet is bringing to Canberra in October.

I also have many fond memories of seeing Li perform while he was with the Australian Ballet. Standing out from those performances for me is Li’s dancing in Jiří Kylián’s Sinfonietta, which was part of a 1997 triple bill called Quantum Leaps. I can still see that stunning entrance he made at the very beginning of the work. ‘His impressive soaring entrance’ and ‘His enthralling jumps and and superbly controlled turns’, I wrote in a review for Dance Australia. He was a brilliant dancer!

It was also a great experience to see the exhibition Mao’s Last Dancer the Exhibition: A Portrait of Li Cunxin, which opened in Brisbane but was also seen elsewhere (Melbourne in 2018 when I saw it). In that exhibition Li’s career was shown through a variety of items and it was also a rare look at his early life.

Keys to the City, a terrific initiative from Brisbane’s Lord Mayor!

Michelle Potter, 11 September 2023

Featured image: Portrait of Li Cunxin, 2020. Photo: © David Kelly

Li Cunxin to retire

20 June 2023

Li Cunxin, artistic director of Queensland Ballet for the past 11 years, today announced that, due to ill health, he will retire at the end of the 2023 season. At the same time, his wife Mary Li, also with health concerns, will retire from her role as ballet mistress and principal repetiteur with the company.

Li’s contribution to the growth of Queensland Ballet has been quite exceptional. His input has included a doubling of the number of dancers in the company, which now stands at 48 artists; the development of a young artists’ scheme with the Jette Parker Young Artists Program; the growth of an Academy situated at Kelvin Grove State College; the development of the Thomas Dixon Centre as home to Queensland Ballet with the inclusion of a very accessible small theatre; the expansion of company activities to the Gold Coast; and the growth of philanthropy, touring and community activities.

His choice of repertoire has been of exceptional significance too. I have admired in particular his triple bill programs, which always give audiences a varied understanding of the range of styles and subjects that ballet can encompass. Li’s Choice in 2022 was outstanding and I described it as ‘an absolute cracker of a triple bill [showing] Li as a great director’. He has encouraged the work of Australian. choreographers, both established and emerging, and has also staged works from a range of overseas-based choreographers whose productions have not often (if ever in some cases) been seen in Australia. It is hard to forget, for example, A Midsummer Night’s Dream from Liam Scarlett, which was created in conjunction with Royal New Zealand Ballet while that company was under the direction of Ethan Stiefel, and which will tour to Canberra in October.

Yanela Pinera as Titania, Queensland Ballet 2016 — Yanela Piñera as Titania in *A Midsummer Night’s Dream*, Queensland Ballet 2016. Photo: © David Kelly

But perhaps more than anything, Li (and his staff of teachers and coaches) has developed the performance standard of the company to a new level of excellence. His dancers perform with such a love of dance and such a desire to give to the audience. They show a strong and visible engagement with all aspects of a production and it is simply heartwarming to watch them.

Speaking of his retirement Li said:

I am tremendously proud of the company I see before me today. Queensland Ballet stands proudly on the world stage in performance, pathways and participation. I will never be far away but as I take this time and the organisation continues to thrive, I know I am leaving the company in a strong position. While I am very proud of the company’s growth, the major projects we have undertaken and the dreams we have fulfilled, I’m mostly proud of the fact that Queensland Ballet is completely set up for success. Our foundations are stronger than ever and I’m proud to be a part of that legacy.

Queensland Ballet will begin a search for a new director shortly.

Personal recollections
I have many fond memories of Li in various of his roles from performer to artistic director. In particular I am pleased that I had the opportunity to record an oral history interview with him for the National Library of Australia in 2019 (TRC 6989 currently needing written permission to access). Vivid in my mind too is LI’s astonishing leap onto the stage in the opening moments of Jiří Kylián’s Sinfonietta with the Australian Ballet in 1997. ‘A soaring entrance,’ I wrote in Dance Australia, followed by the words ‘enthralling jumps and superbly controlled arms’. But perhaps my strongest recollection goes back to c. 1996 when Maina Gielgud was artistic director of the Australian Ballet and was extraordinarily generous in allowing me to watch company classes. I recall on several occasions Li would stay in the studio after class was officially over and practise manège after manège of spectacular grand allegro steps. He would always finish right in front of me, kneeling, and with a flourish of the arms to second position—always a showman.

Li will never retire from being a dancer at heart and I wish him and his wife every happiness in the future.

For more about LI on this website follow this link.

Michelle Potter, 20 June 2023

Featured image: Portrait of Li Cunxin following his award of Officer of the Order of Australia (AO) in 2020. Photo: © David Kelly

Adam Bull and Coco Mathieson in 'Aurum'. The Australian Ballet, 2018. Photo:Scene from 'Filigree and Shadow'. The Australian Ballet, 2018. Photo: © Jeff Busby

Dance diary. March 2023

Unintentionally, this month’s dance diary has a focus on retirements, resignations, the act of moving on and other activities associated with change. Dance is a moving art form.

Adam Bull retires

Adam Bull, principal with the Australian Ballet since 2008, has announced his retirement from the company at the end of June 2023. Bull has danced major roles in classical and contemporary works across the range of the Australian Ballet’s repertoire including works by Kenneth MacMillan, George Balanchine, Graeme Murphy, Christopher Wheeldon, Wayne McGregor. Jiri Kylian, David McAllister, Alice Topp and others. His final performance will be in Melbourne in June in Topp’s new work Paragon, part of the 2023 triple bill Identity.

I have admired Bull’s performances whenever I have seen him, including in roles that have occasionally had not so much dancing in them. His performance as the figure of Death in Graeme Murphy’s Romeo and Juliet stands out for example. Then, still clear in my mind is his performance with Lana Jones in Balanchine’s Ballet Imperial, which did require a lot of dancing, as did his role in Alice Topp’s Aurum! And perhaps not so well known, since it only ever had eight performances in Brisbane, was his role of the Prince in Graeme Murphy’s The Happy Prince.

His artistry has crossed boundaries and his presence will be missed. Who knows when and where we might see him again?

Adam Bull in 'The Happy Prince'. The Australian Ballet, 2020. Photo: © Jeff Busby — Adam Bull as the Prince in *The Happy Prince.* The Australian Ballet, 2020. Photo: © Jeff Busby

Here is the Adam Bull tag for this website.

Jacob Nash moves on from Bangarra

I was a little taken aback I have to say to learn that Jacob Nash, designer for Bangarra for more than ten years, is moving on. I have admired Nash’s contribution to Bangarra in many situations and in my discussion of Stephen Page’s 2015 film Spear I wrote of Nash’s contribution, ‘As in his sets for Bangarra’s live shows, Nash has brought to the film an understanding of the power of minimalism in design.’ But I also remember very clearly seeing an installation in an exhibition, Ecocentrix. Indigenous Arts, Sustainable Acts, in London in 2013, in which his contribution was not especially minimal. Nash’s work on this occasion was multi-layered and quite mysterious in its impact. Below on the left is an image of that installation, while on the right is his set design for the 2016 work Miyangan. I look forward to seeing more of Nash’s art wherever he continues to practice.

Jacob Nash installation, Ecocentrix 2013 — (left) Jacob Nash, Installation for *Ecocentrix. Indigenous Arts, Sustainable Acts*, London 2013. Courtesy Helen Gilbert; (right) Jacob Nash’s set for *Miyangan*, Bangarra Dance Theatre 2016. Photo: Michelle Potter

(left) Jacob Nash, Installation for *Ecocentrix. Indigenous Arts, Sustainable Acts*, London 2013. Courtesy Helen Gilbert; (right) Jacob Nash’s set for *Miyangan*, Bangarra Dance Theatre 2016. Photo: Michelle Potter

Here is the Jacob Nash tag for this website.

Moves afoot in Western Australia

Artistic director of West Australian Ballet, Aurelian Scannella, will leave the company at the end of 2023. Scannella has been with West Australian Ballet for ten years and has been responsible for introducing many new works as well as staging the classics. Taking his place in 2024, for what is listed as a temporary appointment, will be David McAllister currently on a temporary appointment as artistic director with Royal New Zealand Ballet in Wellington following the retirement of former director Patricia Barker.

More on Don Quixote

After watching the streaming of the 2023 staging of Don Quixote I was inspired to go back to watch again the film made in 1972. But I also went back to two oral history interviews I recorded for the National Library of Australia: one with Lucette Aldous in 1999, and one with Gailene Stock in 2012. Both Aldous and Stock talk about their experiences during the making of the film—Aldous at some length, Stock about a particular incident relating to Nureyev. Both interviews are available online and, with each one, the section of the interview relating to the film is easily accessible by keying ‘Don Quixote’ into the search box at the beginning of each interview (after accepting the conditions of the licence agreement). Happy listening. It’s worth it!

Lucette Aldous interview. Gailene Stock interview.

Rudolf Nureyev as Basilio in *Don Quixote*. 1972. Still from the film.

Lynn Seymour (1939-2023)

Canadian-born dancer, Lynn Seymour, has died in London aged 83. Seymour had an extensive career as a principal dancer with several major ballet companies. There are a number of obituaries available online and here is a link to the one I admire most, written by Jane Pritchard for The Guardian.

None of the obituaries that I have read mentions Seymour’s appearances in Australia and New Zealand during a Royal Ballet tour in 1958 and 1959 but she made her debut as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake during that tour and garnered mostly excellent reviews. My previous discussions of Seymour on this website, which relate to that tour, were written early in 2017 and have been somewhat controversial. But they continue to be accessed six years later. See this link, which also contains a link back to the controversy.

Lynn Seymour. Autograph and program image. The Royal Ballet, Melbourne 1958 — Lynn Seymour, program image and autograph. The Royal Ballet Australasian Tour, 1958

Michelle Potter, 31 March 2023

Featured image: Adam Bull and Coco Mathieson in Alice Topp’s Aurum. The Australian Ballet 2018. Photo: © Jeff Busby

Cranko. The man and his choreography. Book review

Cranko. The man and his choreography by Ashley Killar
Matador/Troubador Publishing
ISBN. 978-0-646-86603-1
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

This biography of John Cranko is a deeply researched, widely contextualised and beautifully written account of the life and work of a major choreographer of mid-20th century. There is meticulous detail in the documentation and analysis of Cranko’s vast choreographic output, both within the text and in appendices. Ashley Killar has drawn on that oeuvre, as well as many of Cranko’s letters to friends and colleagues, to evaluate the teeming imagination and artistry, musical ear, lively sense of wit and satire, the devoted loyalty to friends and colleagues, the generous personality, the frankness over frustrations when things went wrong, the ability to move on to the next thing, the excesses in a sometimes reckless lifestyle—all the good and some of the bad in a life fully lived but ended too soon. You come to know the man through coming to know his works, not just by reading a list of titles but by experiencing the texture and timing of the choreographies. That’s skilful dance writing.

Killar was a member of Stuttgart Ballet from 1962 to 1967 so he knew Cranko well. The book Is a devoted tribute to the man and his work, but in no measure is it simply hagiography. The contexts of socio-political history and related arts that open several chapters, and are also summarised in the appendix of choreography, are welcome reminders of a 20th century world. The contrasts of living conditions and morale in South Africa (where Cranko was born, in 1927), in post-war England (where he lived, danced and began to choreograph), in a divided post-war Germany without a single national ballet company (where he flourished, from 1961 to 1973), in Russia (where there were intriguing interactions within the political control of ballet, and the dancers visiting from Stuttgart had to step through a door in an iron fire-curtain lowered to end the applause but the audience would not cease applauding), and in America (where on a number of tours, thanks to Sol Hurok, Cranko met with great success with audiences, who loved the narrative and dramatic power of his works that their own dance-makers had not produced. There was also ongoing disdain from certain critics, Arlene Croce the most vocal among them… as though to say, ‘If you loveq—Balanchine then you must hate Cranko’. OK, so did that mean the reverse was true? (KIllar’s pen is wiser and more tempered than Croce’s was).

These contextual accounts are briefly but tellingly written and the book should appeal to a much wider readership than just ballet afficionados. It places the man in his dances, his dances in society, and societies in their response to his dances. That’s resonant choreography and insightful appreciation combined.

There were seemingly unconventional work practices in all his career. Cranko never had an office but would sit in the company canteen, use the phone on the counter, and be at all times accessible to the dancers he considered members of a family—holding no truck with the typical power and control that many a ballet company director adopts in the vain pretence that this secures leadership. The accounts around England’s Royal Ballet and that company’s ethos under Ninette de Valois’ directorship, come under the spotlight. Peggy van Praagh by contrast emerges as a genuinely joyful and encouraging figure who instantly recognised Cranko’s talent and knew how to help him rein in so that his best ideas could emerge, that less would be more. Her own long life generously devoted to dance is well caught here.

You could look at the listing of dancers in the Stuttgart company and fledgling choreographers stimulated and nurtured by Cranko—they are among the best in the world, and New Zealand gets an entry. There is further resonance for New Zealand in that Martin James danced the title role of Eugene Onegin many times, rating it one of the most demanding and rewarding in his own remarkable performing career. It is but one example of how the dance profession becomes a kind of country in its own right, crossing over the political and historical boundaries defined by nationalism and history.

Cranko’s longstanding friendships with designer John Piper, and with composer Benjamin Britten (whose Gloriana, Peter Grimes, Prince of the Pagodas, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Bouquet Garni were choreographed to) are covered. Figures in the English ballet world include Cranko’s relationship with the somewhat caustic de Valois, the idiosyncratic Frederick Ashton, as well as his camaraderie with Kenneth MacMillan, and are notable. It is Peggy van Praagh who emerges as an independent thinker and visionary to my mind. I was intrigued to hear of the early influence on Cranko of the work of Rudolf Laban and Kurt Jooss—and later of his appreciation of the technique and style of Martha Graham, and suspect van Praagh was instrumental in this open-mindedness. Cranko’s partnership with Anne Woolliams as influential teacher at Stuttgart and her later appointment to the Australian Ballet, where van Praagh was a pioneering and spirited leader, provide a further connection to ballet in this part of the world.

From a hugely prolific body of work it is probably the early Cranks revue, the now largely forgotten Prince of the Pagodas, his The Lady and the Fool, Romeo & Juliet, Onegin and The Taming of the Shrew for which he is most remembered.

Marcia Haydée was legendary dancer and company stronghold at Stuttgart for many years. Among the young dancers in his company whose choreography he encouraged and nurtured are John Neumeier, Jiri Kylian, Gray Veredon (New Zealand’s own) and Ashley Killar himself (artistic director of RNZBallet 1992-1995, whose No Exit and Dark Waves were among the most dramatically incisive works in the company’s entire repertoire).

Cranko’s legacy speaks volumes and Killar has done him proud.

Jennifer Shennan, 13 December 2022

Cranko. The man and his choreography is available through Bloch’s ballet centres (including by mail order). Alternatively, the book is available to order through bookstores, or direct from www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/biography/cranko/

Go to www.crankobiography.com for more information.

Kunstkamer. The Australian Ballet

7 May 2022 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

David Hallberg has given his directorship of the Australian Ballet a name, a conceptual idea, for us to ponder—’A New Era’. The company’s latest production, Kunstkamer, brings reality to Hallberg’s concept. 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?.

Inspired by an eighteenth-century publication Cabinet of Natural Curiosities, and first performed by Nederlands Dans Theater (NDT) in its 2019-2020 season, Kunstkamer (literally art room in Dutch) is the work of four choreographers, Sol León, Paul Lightfoot, Crystal Pite and Marco Goecke. Cabinets of curiosities date back several centuries and were collections of paintings and other items—curiosities—from around the world and were precursors to what we think of today as museums. Kunstkamer is a dance work in 18 separate sections and, to my mind, fits beautifully within the notion of a collection of unusual, beautiful, incredible items, and even within the idea of a room or several rooms containing such items.

Take the set by León and Lightfoot and the lighting (Tom Bevoort, Ubo Haberland and Tom Visser) for example. The set was architecturally inspired and as each dance section began the screens that made up the set slid into a new formation, or lighting changed our perspective of the ‘room’. It was as if we had moved from one room of a museum to another. Of course there are other ways of looking at how the set was used. Dancers entered and left through a series of doors built into one part of the set, often slamming them noisily. Coming and going. Changing styles. Any number of thoughts come to mind.

Then there were the various sections that made up the dance component. Each section was unique and all carried allusions of various kinds—to the work of other choreographers for example and William Forsythe and Jiří Kylián spring straight to mind. The opening scene for Part II, seen in the image below, was motionless but somehow incredibly moving and, as the dancer sat there, a front curtain descended and rose again reminding us of Forsythe’s Artifact. Then there were references to various trends in the visual arts, especially those of the late 19th, early 20th century; and even allusions to other theatrical styles, Butoh for example when dancers appeared white-faced and open-mouthed.

Opening scene from Part II, *Kunstkame*r. The Australian Ballet 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

As for the choreography, it was contemporary movement—angular poses, stretched limbs, movement that often seemed quite raw rather than controlled, but often an emphasis on group shapes and unison movement.

Dancers of the Australian Ballet in *Kunstkamer*, 2022. Photo: © Daniel Boud

The standout dancer at the performance I saw was Benedicte Bemet, who seemed totally transformed. I have always admired her dancing but this time gone was the ‘ballerina look’ (as beautiful as that can be) and there onstage was an artist able to move into a new world when required. She was magnificent. I also particularly enjoyed the performances by Callum Linnane and Adam Bull and the very strong introductory moments from guest dancer Jorge Nozal, who appeared with NDT in the same role (described in the printed program as ‘the enigmatic ghost character’). But every dancer rose to the occasion brilliantly. I got the feeling that they just loved dancing Kunstkamer with all its weird and wonderful aspects, including the speech, often incomprehensible chatter, and the singing by the dancers that was included. The music itself was as as varied as the choreography and ranged from Beethoven to Janis Joplin and included at one stage a pianist playing onstage.

What an unbelievably incredible show this was from beginning to end! I understand it is being streamed on 10 June. If you can’t get to see it live, check out the streaming details.

Michelle Potter, 10 May 2022

Dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet in 'Passchendaele', 2015. Photo: Evan Li

Anzac Day 2020. Aotearoa New Zealand

by Jennifer Shennan

This year, for the first time in over 100 years, all public gatherings to mark Anzac Day were cancelled, due to the lockdown imposed as part of the fight against the Covid-19 pandemic: an enemy if ever there was one, not war between nations this time but a hope that all countries might join a common fight.

Traditionally Anzac Day commemorations shape up as a kind of countrywide choreography, starting with a Dawn Parade in every city, town, village or marae—a bugle, a salute, a karakia, a march, a haka, a hymn, a prayer, a poem—‘They shall grow not old’—a minute’s silence and The Last Post

There are church services, radio and television broadcasts, concerts, gatherings and wakes throughout the day to remember sacrifice—the war dead and wounded, refugees and fugitives, and the whole sad sorry waste of it all. It is a statutory public holiday, restaurants, shops, schools and theatres are closed, normal life is on hold for a day, then it’s back to busy business. But ‘normal life’ has been on hold these many weeks now. So how was this Anzac Day different from other years?

Some today stood alone at the roadside in front of their home, before dawn at 6am, holding a candle perhaps, and a transistor radio to hear the national broadcast, or watched television coverage of the Prime Minister standing at her gate. Many families had made sculptures or graphics of poppies to display in their gardens. Some of the 1000s of teddy bears in house windows to cheer passersby these past weeks were today wearing poppies too. Many of us will have been mindful of the shocking statistic that in two months of the 1918 influenza pandemic more New Zealanders died than had been killed during the whole of World War I.

We’ve grown so accustomed to the commercialisation of Christmas and to a degree Easter, surrounded as we are by tsunamis of merchandise ‘to show we care’. Today was differently focused. Some folk had developed their own ideas and found resources to express an experience, share a thought, address a concern, tell a story, to give a voice to hope. Isn’t that what art does? Mere entertainment has to me never seemed sufficient, either in peace or wartime.

Numerous dance companies worldwide, stymied by the current pandemic and obliged to cancel many performances and productions, have in past weeks moved to make selected works from their repertoire available online. The Royal New Zealand Ballet have already screened video of Loughlan Prior’s Hansel & Gretel, Liam Scarlett’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Christopher Hampson’s Cinderella. For today their program from 2015, Salute, was aired, comprising two works—Andrew Simmons’ Dear Horizon and Neil Ieremia’s Passchendaele. My review of the Company’s season in 2015 is at this link.

Dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet in 'Dear Horizon', 2015. Photo: Ellie Richards — Dancers of Royal New Zealand Ballet in *Dear Horizon*, 2015. Photo: © Ellie Richards

What a pity this broadcast could not have included Jiří Kylián’s masterwork, Soldatenmis/Soldiers’ Mass, to Martinu, from the same program—(prohibitive fees or copyright issues perhaps?) since it was a work that suited the Company’s dancers of that time to the drumbeat of their hearts and ours. Laura Saxon Jones, sole female performing alongside all the male dancers of the Company, will never be forgotten.

Other outstanding choreographies with a war, or anti-war theme, include Jose Limon’s noble Missa Brevis, dedicated to the spirit of Polish resistance; Young Men, Ivan Perez’ choreography startlingly performed by Ballet Boyz; and of course the legendary work Der grüne Tisch/The Green Table, by Kurt Jooss, a work I used to dream might one day be performed by RNZB, so well it would have suited them until just a few years ago. I remain grateful to have seen the Joffrey Ballet’s authoritative performances however, and another unforgettable production in which the late Pina Bausch played The Old Woman—a performance of such chiselled beauty stays with one for life, as though she had stepped from a painting by Modigliani, or Munch, or a figure from the mediaeval Danse Macabre of Lübeck Cathedral.

(I’m often reminded of the very fine study by William McNeill, Harvard historian, who in his book Keeping Together in Time, considers how coordinated rhythmic movement, and the shared feelings it evokes, has been a powerful force in holding human groups together—how armies of the world, train and march and move—be that in quick, slow, double or dead march, the goose step, the North Koreans’ grand battement smash, or the soldiers’ antics at the Pakistan-Indian border).

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Both RNZB works, Simmons’ Dear Horizon and Ieremia’s Passchendaele, retain all the impact and power of their first staging, with the New Zealand Army Band playing to precise perfection, for the former the music of Gareth Farr, for the latter the composition by Dwayne Bloomfield. The contained emotion of the music, particularly in cello and brass solos, stops time.

Ieremia’s early career, as for so many of the dancers who worked with Douglas Wright, absorbed much influence from the driven and airborne choreography of that master dance-maker. An indelible image that remains with me is from Wright’s The Kiss Inside—a scene in which a gorilla-suited figure passes a tray of cut oranges around a group of boys (a team of rugby players, refreshments at half time?). Soon, just a little older, the same young men are in a faraway other place, a different game, writhing on the ground, in an agony of wounds, bleating like sheep. The gorilla passes a microphone among them to record their messages for relaying home. The bleating becomes recognisable as a cry of pathos, ‘Mummy, Mummy’ from one dying soldier after another. Says it all really.

Jennifer Shennan, 25 April 2020

Rench Soriano in 'Five Variations on a Theme'. New Zealand School of Dance, 2019. Photo © Stephen A'Court

New Zealand School of Dance Graduation Season, 2019

20-30 November 2019. Te Whaea Theatre, Wellington
reviewed by Jennifer Shennan

NZSD’s Graduation season always displays the talent and enthusiasm of graduating dancers who, after three years’ training, are poised to venture forth and seek ways to make a professional career. Commitment and courage are needed in equal measure. Selected first and second year students are included in the casting, which is credit to them and their tutors since no dancer is less than fully prepared and present.

This year’s season combines classical ballet and contemporary dance works, eight in all, on the same program. (Last year’s had alternate nights for classical and contemporary works). Either formula offers the chance for us to consider how the two dance lineages as taught in the School, contrast with, or relate to, each other in the professional dance world—in technique, movement vocabulary, choreographic themes, aesthetic choices, relationship to music.

While many aspects of each are distinct, dances labelled ‘classical’ or ‘contemporary’ are not the opposites of each other. My take is that it’s the individual choreographer who places a work where it lies on the spectrum. If it’s good, then dance is the winner on the night. Memories of a masterpiece by Jiří Kylián in a recent Grad. program combined performers from both streams of training and demonstrated that truth (as also did a recent film viewing of Douglas Wright’s masterpiece from Royal New Zealand Ballet repertoire, rose and fell—truly superb contemporary choreography being performed by ballet dancers. QED.)

O body swayed to music, o brightening glance,
how can we know the dancer from the dance?
William Butler Yeats

The performance opens with Concerto Barocco by George Balanchine, to the Double Violin concerto by Bach. The clarity of music is matched in dance line, alignment and groupings. It is luminous, timeless, time less, time more.

My verses cannot comment
on your immortal moment or tell you what you mean;
only Balanchine
has the razor edge and knows that art of language
Robert Lowell

Velociraptor, by Scott Ewen, to music by Kangding Ray, is a premiere. The opening section is swift and driven. Among the cast of nine, we notice a wrist bandage on one dancer. Have the rehearsals come at a cost? We notice another. Soon the bandages unravel and become strings that tie and bind, forming mesmerizing tensions between groupings, and becoming cats’ cradles for bodies lifted horizontally.

Mind is music…
Invisible dancer who dances quicksilver vision
James Schevill

Courtney Lim and Tessa Redman in *Velociraptor*. New Zealand School of Dance, 2019. Photo © Stephen A’Court

Not Odd Human, by Sam Coren, to music by Richard Lester, recently premiered at Tempo Dance Festival. It’s a manic mediaeval mayhem, its sardonic humour propelling characters from long ago and faraway into our midst. Mad Joan and Dull Grethe are there, Joan of Arc, Lady Godiva perhaps? You could credit Breugel with its design.

Such rollicking measures, prance as they dance
In Breugel’s great picture, the Kermess.
William Carlos Williams

Five Variations on a Theme, by David Fernandez, to a Bach Violin Concerto, is a solo danced by Rench Soriano. Everything about this phenomenally gifted dancer, a second year student, combines precision with poetry, and is a joy to witness. His dancing is redolent of his tutor Qi Huan, who has rehearsed him in this work. For many years Huan was the leading dancer in Royal New Zealand Ballet, where his peerless command of technique gave him the expressive freedom that dance at its soaring best can offer. Before him, Ou Lu, before him Martin James, before him Jon Trimmer, before him Poul Gnatt. Soriano is clearly profiting from his teacher and this pedigree heritage, and will make a fine career for himself.

The dancer dances. The dance does not dance…
The saved world dances, and the dance dances.
Jacques Audiberti

Re:Structure, by Ross McCormack, to music by Jason Wright, was another premiere work. A 5 metre long pole is the central prop around which the cast of 8 dancers manipulate and explore its positioning. One dancer vertically atop the pole makes a striking image to which you could supply your own narrative, but there is deliberately no denouement to the work overall.

Your props had always been important:…
Things without a name you fell upon
Or through …
Richard Howard

Round of Angels, by Gerald Arpino, from 1983, to music of Mahler, has a cast of six males, then joined by a single female. As a couple, Brittany-Jayde Duwner and Jordan Lennon dance with secure command and lyrical expression, becoming the central tender core of the work.

I said that she had danced heart’s truth
W.B Yeats

Brittany-Jayde Duwner and Jordan Lennon in *Round of Angels*. New Zealand School of Dance, 2019. Photo © Stephen A’Court

Handel—A Celebration by Helgi Tomasson, to excerpts by Handel, has a large cast of spirited movers who rise to the spirit of the celebratory music. Rehearsed by Christine Gunn and Nadine Tyson, the staging had enthusiasm and style in equal and full measure.

Dancer: O you translation
Of all transiency into action, how you made it clear!
And the whirl of the finish, that tree of motion,
Didn’t it wholly take in the hard-won year
Rainer Maria Rilke

Carnival.4, by Raewyn Hill, was anything but carnivalesque in its mood. Its effect was percussive, tight, driven, insistent, urgent, pulsing. It evoked youth in support of each other, demanding to be listened to.

What is the hardest task of Art?
To clear the ground and make a start …
To tell the tale…
That when the millions want the few
Those can make Heaven here and do.
John Masefield

New Zealand School of Dance Contemporary Students in *Carnivale.4*, 2019. Photo © Stephen A’Court

Nothing about dancing is easy—it’s just meant to look that way, and the quality of sprezzatura, nonchalance, while delivering virtuosic choreography is the one you’d aspire to. The most outstanding dancer of the evening is for me the personification of that gift of grace, and will surely make the world a better place wherever he dances. We all need to consider and study that quality, and pray for a bit of it in our lives, dancing and all the rest.

Come to the edge.
We might fall.
Come to the edge.
It’s too high!
Come to the edge.
And they came,
and he pushed,
And they flew.
Christopher Logue

Jennifer Shennan, 22 November 2019

Featured image: Rench Soriano in Five Variations on a Theme. New Zealand School of Dance, 2019. Photo © Stephen A’Court