6 May 2026 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
The Australian Ballet’s 2026 presentation of John Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet is quite simply extraordinary! To put it bluntly I can’t remember, in decades of watching dance, ever being so involved in the unfolding of a narrative production.
The actual dancing, led at the performance I saw by Brett Chynoweth as Romeo and Yuumi Yamada as Juliet, was just brilliant. And it was not just the dancing but the acting as well, and that from across the entire cast, which held the show together. Every character, even those in the corps de ballet, appeared to have an individual personality. Not only did they demonstrate individuality in their every moment onstage, but their reactions with each other were also so exceptional and entertaining that the story just sped along and held one’s attention from beginning to end.
This production was staged by choreologist Mark Kay and Yseult Lendval, a former principal dancer with Stuttgart Ballet and currently ballet mistress in Stuttgart. I can only surmise that the extraordinary nature of the production was a result of this staging and in fact Lendval is well-known for her connections with Cranko’s works.
But in addition to the dancing and acting, I suspect that the beautiful look of the ballet had much to do with the lighting design by Jon Buswell. The lighting design moved from the outdoor brightness of the market-place scenes to the indoor evening event in which Juliet and Romeo meet and dance together for the first time, and in which the Capulet family and their guest give us those famous group dance moments. Then there is the romantic outdoor evening light in which the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet unfolds. Every moment is thrillingly lit and so well captured by Daniel Boud’s photography.
I suspect too that the costumes, designed way back in 1962 by Jürgen Rose, looked so spectacular in 2026 because of Buswell’s lighting (even though they may have been recently remade).
I was also thrilled to note that the Sergei Prokofiev score for the ballet (played by the Opera Australia Orchestra) was being conducted by Nigel Gaynor, whose work I have long admired during his time (now over apparently) with Queensland Ballet.
The one slightly jarring moment for me was in Act 3 when Juliet’s friends (and bridesmaids in waiting?) came into her bedroom to wake her up. The dance they did (and always do) before specifically approaching her as she lies in bed has always seemed too long to me. It did again on this occasion. Let’s get on with the story!
But all in all what a tremendous afternoon of ballet it was. I have purposely not singled out any of the dancers (other than mentioning Yamada and Chynoweth as the leads) as quite honestly everyone gave an exceptional performance.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
24 July 2025, St James Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
The Way Alone—Stephen Baynes/P. Tchaikovsky Chrysalis—Shaun James Kelly/Philip Glass Home, Land and Sea—Moss Te Ururangi Patterson/Shayne Carter
This triple bill hits the mark in more ways than three. Production values and galvanised performances reveal the company in high morale, with the artistic management in steady yet adventurous command. The dancers and the audience are stimulated by the contrasts of aesthetics, musicality and substance of the three works.
Choreographer Stephen Baynes has a career-long association with Australian Ballet, although his works are also in repertoires of companies worldwide. The Way Alone was commissioned in 2008 by Hong Kong Ballet for an all-Tchaikovsky program, and uses excerpts from lesser known compositions of choral, organ and piano forces that create a meditative atmosphere. 13 dancers form the ensemble, which divides into duos and trios and an occasional solo, where Katherine Minor has a notable role. The theme is clued in the title—members may be part of a large group but at the same time remain as individuals, as in a church congregation for example, or a theatre audience, together alone. There is a lyrical and serene quality to the movement, all effort is hidden, with lifts and upreaching gestures suggesting that gravity has no hold here. Eye contact is made with the audience only at the end. The work is beautifully danced throughout, and the lighting design by Jon Buswell shines beams of soft light from on high, to heavenly effect.
Shaun James Kelly is a dancer and resident choreographer at RNZB. In this premiere, Chrysalis, he collaborates with designer Rory William Docherty to explore the metaphor of layered clothing, what that might say of a person wearing it, or be revealed as layers are removed. The work opens with a tribute to Shaun’s parents and the longevity of their relationship. Hats and coats are styled for 1950s, soon removed then placed on coathangers that are raised high above the stage—suggesting the passing of time and changing of fashions. Party attire is worn and enjoyed … these layers too are removed and lifted away, revealing bodytights in various shades of nacreous lustre. The work is set to piano music by Philip Glass, with minimalist motifs repeated to build effect. Several short passages are danced in silence which suggests that sound too can be layered. Danced connections between couples and friends reference the value in personal freedom and the confidence to express gender identity. The cast of ten dancers move with style and commitment in the combination of familiar and new ballet vocabulary, and Shaun will have been rightly pleased that his work is delivered with such aplomb.
Home, Land and Sea, another premiere, brings the choreography of Moss Patterson to a new level of urgency. Shayne Carter, highly regarded for his performing and composing in a wide-ranging musical scene, has created a richly evocative music score with natural landscapes and Maori cultural references drawn in. His strong composition drives this highly successful collaboration, and his program notes on the experience of working with dancers are among the best you will read.
The cast comprises six RNZB dancers with six members of New Zealand Dance Company in a combination that melds their classical and contemporary dance trainings. These were never opposite techniques but the give and take between them can produce versatility in some dancers, most notably seen here in the intensely invested performances by Zacharie Dun, Kirby Selchow and Ana Gallardo Lobaina.
At times the dance pace is relentless but its effect is always controlled and tempered. It is maintained not because shouting achieves anything but rather, because momentum is everything and there’s important work to be done. There is in the choreography an aspect of polemic against the country’s current troubling political shifts that demote Maori needs, that lessen respect accorded to the Treaty of Waitangi as the nation’s founding reference, that downgrade the status of te reo (language), that disestablish positions of government historians, and more besides.
Politicians we could name should see this work and reflect on the divisive and mean-spirited ways they are trying to attract support for policies that move us backwards not forwards in the essential quest for intercultural respect and connection. It’s doubtful of course if they’d get anything out of it since folk mostly hear only what they want to hear, so better to save the resources and ensure instead that a quality film is made of this work. Alun Bollinger or Chris Graves on camera would know how to capture that. This is choreography that offers dialogue and conversation. Film can reach far beyond a company’s touring itinerary, and ours is not the only country that needs to raise and pursue awareness of such challenges.
Ka nui te aroha mo tēnei tūtaki. (Let’s recognise this title work as an important bi-cultural encounter). The power of haka and the poetry of ballet are complementary and it’s Patterson’s and Carter’s shared triumph to have presented a template for mutual exchange, not confrontation or competition. Jon Buswell’s design uses a set of panels onto which are first projected harakeke/flax weaving patterns, then grasses in the wind, to scenes of the sea, with its foam rising, which discreetly but miraculously slowly turns into a long white cloud, and there you have it, Ao-tea-roa, the name of the country we live in.
There is an interesting list of the times, starting in 1953, that New Zealand’s ballet company has looked for echoes between ballet and Maori dance, but that account lies outside the scope of this review.
I found it very affecting that Patterson uses a dynamic range of movement harnessing at times the power of haka and merging it with the clarity of alignment in classically trained dancers. He waits till near the end to include stylized versions of ringa (hand and arm movement) that characterise Maori dance, delivered in miniature with carved clarity by all the dancers. He then moves towards the work’s peace-making denouement by using the exquisite wiri (the shimmering quivering of arms and hands) that signal the life force in Maori worldview.
The curtain call remains in character—a linked line of dancers rippling as waves of the sea. Such a cadence is worth more to me than perhaps it sounds, and I wish that happened more often. It in turn evokes Wislawa Symborska’s famous poem, Theatre Impressions, in which, despite any preceding scenes of heroic struggle or battle, it’s the curtain call that grabs you by the throat.
Home, Land and Sea, with that talisman curtain call, shows a way that ballet can do its work, in a relevant time and place. Hei konei rā (For here, there).
Jennifer Shennan, 26 July 2025
Postscript: In the interval I learned in a text of the passing of Philippa Ward, well-known and much-loved Wellington pianist and dance aficionado. (She had been rehearsal pianist for the Stravinsky Pulcinella I choreographed 40 years ago, and remembered details of that production all these decades since. Such appreciation of an ephemeral art is rare.) No choreographer could synchronise this timing but Baynes may be moved to learn that Philippa quietly departed as Tchaikovsky piano music was being played in The Way Alone. This is another of the ways ballet can do its work. JS
Dance Australia‘s annual ‘Critics’ Survey’ was published in this year’s first issue (January/February/March 2025). The survey is always a good read with its breadth of coverage and its varied views of the year’s best productions. In addition to my report, headed as ‘Michelle Potter (Canberra and elsewhere)’ on pp. 32-33, critics represented this year are Lisa Lanzi (Adelaide), Denise Richardson (Brisbane), Rhys Ryan (Melbourne), Nina Levy (Perth), and Geraldine Higginson (Sydney).
I began my contribution with some remarks about reviews in general, which I have also addressed elsewhere on this website. Those remarks deal specifically with an issue regarding critics and reviews that I continue to find frustrating and annoying—who can and who can’t review a show according to some involved with a production. I followed up with a general comment about dance in Canberra and I noted that I frequently travel outside of Canberra to see works I otherwise would miss, hence the ‘and elsewhere’ that follows ‘Canberra’ in the heading to my Dance Australia remarks. Finally I chose the show I think outclassed all others (others that I was able to see of course).
I don’t yet have a good quality PDF file of my contribution so I have posted a text version below. An image of a moment from Queensland Ballet’s production of Coco Chanel. The life of a fashion icon was published with my survey remarks and I have used it as the featured image for this post.
Here is the text:
‘I have a major gripe. Twice in 2024 I was offered complimentary tickets to a production but was invited to come and ‘enjoy’ the show but not to write a review. Both productions were in Canberra with one by a Canberra-based organisation. In both cases I did not accept the complimentary ticket with its attached condition. My gripe focuses on the right to decide whether reviews can or cannot be written about specific performances that are open to the public? Who has that right?
I wondered whether there was media manipulation involved on the part of the companies and I turned to what is perhaps my favourite book of collected reviews—Mirrors and Scrims. The Life and Afterlife of Ballet, written by American dance writer and critic Marcia Siegel. Siegel remarks, ‘I see myself as both a demystifyer and a validator, sometimes an interpreter, but not a judge.’ Personally, I stand with Siegel’s concept of a critic being a ‘demystifier’, ‘validator’ and ‘interpreter’ and I make an effort to avoid being judgmental. But I’m not sure that is how those who suggest that I not write about their productions think about reviews. To make the matter even more frustrating, it seems that eventually the Canberra-based organisation relented and gave permission for two other Canberra-based critics to review the show. But the permission was not passed on to me.
Whatever the reasons behind the issue, I am exasperated by the situation. I don’t tell those involved with putting a show together what steps to put in their choreography so why should they tell me what I can or can’t write? An honest review may well contain some criticism. But good reviews have to be honest and there will always be cases where a reviewer will feel the need to suggest there are issues that cause a work to fall short. Such criticism is not meant to be judgmental, but to be of potential benefit both for readers and for those who produce and perform in the shows. Reviews matter. They stand strong against flowery media releases, and they also help to create a history of what is regarded by many as an art form that disappears when a performance finishes. Admittedly twice is not a huge number of times for the situation to have occurred, but it represents a significant movement for the future perhaps?
Dance in Canberra, local dance that is, is largely made for a variety of community groups with the major exception being Alison Plevey’s currently-funded Australian Dance Party. Those community groups are made up of people of a certain age, people from a variety of multicultural backgrounds, people with medical conditions that benefit from access to movement, and a variety of other specific groups. Many community performances by these groups are exceptional and are often, even usually, danced outside the environment of a regular theatre, giving audiences a new perspective on where dance can happen. But in order to see professional productions from Australia’s major companies who rarely bring their work to Canberra, I travel a lot outside the city where I live.
The show that stood out for me during 2024 was Coco Chanel. The life of a fashion icon choreographed by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa and performed in Brisbane by Queensland Ballet,
The work was quite episodic, which is hardly surprising given the extent and changing nature of Chanel’s career. But Lopez Ochoa handled this episodic context with absolute skill. There was never any doubt about what was happening, despite the complexity, and the short duration of each episode. Choreographically her use of the space of the stage was carefully considered as were the groupings she made between dancers as the episodes unfolded. In addition, the collaborative elements, especially Jon Buswell’s lighting design, made Coco Chanel an absolutely brilliant production.
The aspect I especially loved was Lopez Ochoa’s approach to her choreography. It was distinctively individualistic, but emboldened by an understanding of, and belief in, classical ballet as a medium to be pursued. It has been a long time since I sat in a theatre and was completely and utterly absorbed to the extent that somehow I felt I was part of the story.’
4 October 2024. Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane
My review of the Queensland Ballet presentation of Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Coco Chanel: the Life of a Fashion Icon was published in Limelight on 6 October. Read the Limelight review at this link. Below is a slightly enlarged version of that review.
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Coco Chanel: the Life of a Fashion Icon, from Belgian-Columbian choreographer Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, was originally sought for Queensland Ballet by the company’s former artistic director, Li Cunxin. He began working to add it to the repertoire, he told me, some five or six years ago. It finally premiered in Brisbane as a joint production with Hong Kong Ballet and Atlanta Ballet.
As Queensland Ballet’s program notes tell us, Coco Chanel was a ‘creative, controversial and wildly ambitious’ woman. In addition to her initiatives with clothing design and the creation of a range of perfumes, she had a number of lovers and she interacted with many of the world’s best-known artists across theatrical genres, including many who worked with Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. And her connection with the Nazi movement during World War II has been hotly debated. How then to create a ballet about her life, filled as it was with so many complex activities?
We first see Chanel (Neneka Yoshida) as a poverty-stricken nineteen-year-old seamstress working in a factory on clothes to be worn by the rich and famous. Already we have a view of the juxtaposition of poverty and wealth that characterised her early life. We also meet Shadow-Chanel (Kaho Kato), an encouraging figure, who is often quietly present onstage and who guides Chanel through her work and into the future.
From there we move on to a series of episodes reflecting aspects of Chanel’s life including her early work with her sister Julia (Alisa Pukkinen) as a singer and dancer in a Parisian bistro; and various aspects of her design career, including holiday activities in the French seaside resort of Deauville that inspired the addition to her designs of striped and other sailor-style items.
Other episodes look at the demands she insisted upon from those who worked for her; her logo consisting of an entwined version of the letter C; her various lovers, including Arthur Edward ‘Boy’ Capel (Patricio Revé), who is killed in a car accident; the choice of Chanel No. 5 as her signature perfume; and her activities during the war years.
In the final episodes we see her work being rejected, but also the comeback that she eventually achieves.
Theatrically, Lopez Ochoa handles the episodic nature of the story with absolute skill. There is never any doubt about what is happening despite the shortness but complexity of each episode. Choreographically her use of the space of the stage is carefully considered as are the groupings she makes between dancers as the episodes unfold. I especially enjoyed the episode in which Chanel chooses her signature perfume from five possibilities. It was a smart presentation preceded by a beautifully choreographed group dance of flower people (scents of perfume).
But the Nazi episode was also a highlight with Chanel’s lover at the time, a Gestapo spy named Hans Günther von Dincklage, dramatically danced by Vito Bernasconi. Also of particular interest was the episode in which Chanel engaged with Igor Stravinsky (Joshua Ostermann). Stravinsky benefitted from Chanel’s philanthropic generosity in relationship to his score for the Ballets Russes production of The Rite of Spring but, in a moving moment in the episode, Stravinsky left the relationship in favour of his wife and family.
But every dancer rose to the occasion in every episode and performed with exceptional skill and commitment.
Set and costumes were created by Jérôme Kaplan and he pursued a minimalist approach, reflecting the unadorned nature of Chanel’s clothing designs. No frills, no fussy additions. An ongoing aspect of his design was the circular staircase that was moved on and off stage as the moment demanded and that looked back to a mirrored, circular staircase that was part the ground level of Chanel’s studio in Paris.
Jon Buswell’s atmospheric lighting added to the overall effect, and the new and often surprising score by Peter Salem was played by Camerata: Queensland’s Chamber Orchestra conducted by Nigel Gaynor.
When I received my ticket to Coco Chanel my heart sank. My seat was in the Gallery rather than the Stalls. I suspected that I’d never be able to see the production well enough to review it. But I couldn’t have asked for anything better. The seat in the Gallery gave me a perfect view of Lopez Ochoa’s choreographic vision, in particular the way in which she patterns bodies in the performing space, and the manner in which the show was brought together as a collaborative endeavour. Coco Chanel is an absolutely brilliant production made by a choreographer with an approach that is distinctively individualistic, and from which shines an understanding of, and belief in ballet as a medium to be pursued. It deserves to be seen across Australia.
Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of Solace published online by Dance Australia on 5 August 2024. The Dance Australia review is at this link.
Solace, the recent triple bill from Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB), offered audiences a thought-provoking look at the approach of contemporary choreographers who work with ballet companies. They are often inspired by abstract ideas rather than by a narrative line. Such was the case with the three works that made up Solace: Wayne McGregor’s Infra, To Hold by Sarah Foster-Sproull, and Alice Topp’s High Tide.
First up was Infra, danced to a score by Max Richter. I first saw Infra in an Australian Ballet season back in 2014 and I was not really thrilled with what I saw then. But I felt quite differently watching the RNZB production. In his RNZB program notes McGregor remarked that ‘Infra has become simply about people’. Two people stood out in the cast I saw—Branden Reiners and Kate Kadow. Their duet, one of several in Infra, was filled with emotion as a result of the magnificent contact they made with each other. The connection they created was not simply a result of the physicality they developed through McGregor’s choreography but in other ways as well, including through their constant and engaging eye contact. But eventually Reiners left the stage, walking off without acknowledging Kadow. Her reaction continued the momentum that the duet had generated. Kadow seemed stricken by anxiety and pain as she reacted to Reiners’ departure. It was heart-stopping. Despite exceptional dancing by the entire cast, nothing could match the performance of Reiners and Kadow.
Apart from being moved by the Reiners/Kadow connection, it was interesting to watch the unfolding of McGregor’s choreography. With Infra he worked within the classical medium but pushed that medium to exceptional lengths. In particular, his choreography moved away from the classical notion that the body is centred on an erect spine. In Infra it was quite noticeable that the spine was often curved with the dancers pushing the pelvis backwards and forwards to remove and then reinstate the straight line of the spine. Great work from RNZB.
Next was Sarah Foster-Sproull’s newly-commissioned work, To Hold, again dealing with an abstract idea, ‘ways of holding and being held’. This idea was constantly made clear by the groupings Foster-Sproull created throughout the piece. Often the dancers gathered together in large, tightly-held arrangements. Often too they joined arms to create various groupings. Frequently the hands, often with fingers spread wide apart, were very prominent. To my mind this focus on joining hands in various ways meant that other choreographic moves seemed of secondary importance. I would have loved to have seen more variation rather than the work being overburdened by ‘togetherness’.
The bright blue costumes by Donna Jefferis moved beautifully as the choreography, and the score by Eden Mulholland, unfolded. The costumes added a visually impressive element to the work.
The evening ended with another new work, High Tide, created by Australia’s Alice Topp to music by Icelandic composer Ölafur Arnalds. Topp writes that the work is ‘a tender look at the isolating experiences of fear and our ever-changing shadows’. High Tide consisted largely of duets, a dance format that is a specialty of Topp’s choreographic approach. Topp showed off her skill at developing lifts and partnership moves that were often quite spectacular in the way bodies linked up. Dancers were, for example, often held upside down or in twisted positions, and they frequently pulled away from each other while still maintaining a physical connection. Topp’s choreography is firmly classically based but is demanding in its complexity and there were moments when I felt a little anxious about some of the performers. High Tide probably needs more time for the dancers to develop greater confidence and fluidity with Topp’s choreography.
While visually all three works had an impact, the most outstanding collaborative contribution was designer Jon Buswell’s huge and domineering orb that accompanied High Tide. It reflected, on its changing surface and with its movement within the performing space, much of what Topp hoped to express about human experiences.
Solace was a demanding triple bill and RNZB rose skillfully to the occasion. It was an evening to be savoured and enjoyed for what it demonstrated about ballet today.
Update on request. An oral history interview with Alice Topp, recorded for the National Library of Australia, is available at this link. (MP 7/8/24)
22 June 2024 (matinee). The Playhouse, Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane
I didn’t see Greg Horsman’s version of Coppélia, a joint production between Queensland Ballet and West Australian Ballet, when it was first performed back in 2014. But, having admired his reimagining of La Bayadère (despite efforts by some to remove it, and other productions of Bayadère, from the world-wide repertoire), I was looking forward to Queensland Ballet’s presentation of Horsman’s Coppélia. I was not disappointed.
Horsman has kept enough of the original storyline of Coppélia so that the work is recognisable to those of us who have been brought up on the traditional version. Dr Coppélius is bent on bringing a doll to life while the people of the town try to discover what is happening inside his house. And there is the usual love interest wending its way through the story. But Horsman has set this Coppélia in South Australia, in the small town of Hahndorf, which was the home in the early 1800s of German settlers.
But before Act I begins, with its presentation of the activities of the Hahndorf townsfolk, we are given some background in an outstanding prelude. It introduces us to Dr Coppélius and his daughter Coppélia as they prepare to set out on a journey to settle in Australia. The prelude contains a brief moment on stage and then some film (stills and footage) as the boat traverses the oceans. As the voyage continues we see Coppélia’s death and her burial at sea.
The scene then moves to Hahndorf and follows the story largely as we know it, with some exceptions and additions. A notable addition is a brief, moving moment when we see Dr Coppélius (D’Arcy Brazier) making the decision to try to return Coppélia to life. Then there are changes to how the music is used choreographically. The Mazurka from Act I becomes a celebration of a recent win by Hahndorf’s football team. Later, parts of the music for the Czardas in Act I become an accompaniment to a German-style dance with lots of slapping of the knees.
Act II keeps closely to the traditional production as Swanilda (Laura Tosar) and her friends discover the studio of Dr Coppélius, and Franz (Edison Manuel) climbs through a window in Dr Coppélius’ house to make his own discoveries. Act II ends as we might expect with Swanilda and Franz escaping while Dr Coppélius is left holding the doll he was hoping would be his daughter brought to life.
Act III adds some developments to the original story, including the appearance of an angry Dr Coppélius, who usually does not appear in this last Act, carrying his lifeless doll. But after a scuffle or two peace is reached between him and the townsfolk. Swanilda and Franz make plans for the future and the work ends happily.
I was at the second last performance of this Coppélia and, as often happens in such situations. it is not always principal artists who take on leading roles. In particular, I enjoyed immensely seeing company artist Edison Manuel dance Franz. He was engaging in his characterisation and displayed a nicely placed and developed technique. He is someone to watch over the coming years.
There was so much to like in Horsman’s Coppélia. It was appealing in design with lighting by Jon Buswell, set design by Hugh Colman, and costumes by Noelene Hill. But what I especially loved was the way Dr Coppélius had been transformed. Gone was the bumbling, eccentric pantomime-style character that we so often see in traditional productions. Horsman’s Dr Coppélius was a man whose life had been rocked by the death of his daughter and we could see in his every move that he was not the eccentric person of the traditional ballet but someone whose emotions are like our own.
Some of the best choreographers in Australia and overseas have reimagined old stories and made them more relevant in some way. Greg Horsman has joined them and created a thoroughly enjoyable ballet with a coherent, Australianised storyline.
1 May 2024 (and following national tour). St James Theatre, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
This pedigree production of Swan Lake by Russell Kerr, the beloved father figure of ballet in New Zealand, was first staged on the company in 1996 and again in 2002, 2007 and 2013. Russell Kerr died in 2022 so this re-staging is the first not under his direction.
It proves a triumph on several levels, and is giving many a balletomane a sense of coming home. To some degree that involves the sumptuous sets and distinctive costumes by designer Kristian Fredrikson, which still carry as well as they did nigh on three decades ago. The cut and the cloth, the colours, weight and scale of all of Fredrikson’s work come from a singular vision.
Mayu Tanigaito as Odette/Odile can trust her formidable technique to release an exquisite interpretation of the dual role. She conveys Odette’s yearning through superb control of port de bras, unfolding arabesques and in the beautifully held balances, which could have lasted even longer, holding her breath and ours. But after a hint of rubato with the masterful conductor Hamish McKeich holding the baton, you have to go where the stunningly beautiful violin solo, played by Donald Armstrong, is leading you. The pathos of doomed love and Odette’s courage to protect both the Prince, and her fellow victims, is rendered with a tenderness that was in splendid contrast with her sparkling duplicity as Odile. Pearl then diamond.
Laurynas Vejalis is a pensive Prince Siegfried, and I appreciate enormously the aesthetic restraint that he brings to his phenomenal technique. As a dancer he can do anything, as Siegfried he holds back, until he sights Odile that is. As the four-act ballet progresses this couple perform some of the finest pas de deux we have seen here in recent years.
The ensemble of swans is impressive, many of them younger dancers who will be performing in their first Swan Lake. They may have missed Russell Kerr but they could not have a better introduction than this beautifully realised production. Character dances in the ballroom scene are very stylishly delivered and help build a rich and royal courtly atmosphere, all the more devastating when it falls out of the vertical and collapses into chaos. Von Rothbart wears the most magnificent cloak in history but I felt the mysterious and evil intent of his complex role could have been more convincingly conveyed.
Kerr’s production lifts Tchaikovsky’s sublime composition off the page and onto the stage, and the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra play superbly, with a number of fine players evident in the solos. The different sections of the orchestra are alive to the drama of lyrical and haunting or tempestuous and extrovert passages. Hamish McKeich holds it all together and the triumph belongs equally to him.
Much credit is due to the Company’s new artistic directorate for appointing Turid Revfeim as regisseur of Russell Kerr’s production. Revfeim is another of the country’s ballet legends—an accomplished dancer, teacher and artistic director of an independent ballet collective, a long-standing professional of great stamina and skilled diplomacy. Having worked with Kerr for years she is the perfect person for the job. The modesty apparent in her curtain-call speaks volumes, but as Edmund Hilary would say she ‘has an awful lot to be modest about’. Her program essay reminisces about Kerr’s inimitable way of working, and the high expectations he had of each dancer.
It is good too to be reminded of Shannon Dawson’s words about Kerr … ‘He is a parent of sorts, a father of dance, teaching the young, guiding the teenager and letting the adult go free, and the only thing expected in return is that you do your best.’
Kerr’s own insightful essay in the printed program proclaims ‘There are no swans in the ballet Swan Lake…’ explaining they are all women…’victims of an evil genius’. His reading offers an ambiguous ending to the ballet, suggesting that von Rothbart as the power of evil has been overcome, but perhaps only temporarily? Swan and Prince are together, but the misogynist magician will be back. He was conquered once, for now, but there may come a need to conquer him again. The resourceful lighting design by Jon Buswell contributes much here.
8 December 2023. The Playhouse, Victorian Arts Centre, Melbourne
I was more than curious when I heard that Loughlan Prior was preparing a ballet based on the much-loved children’s book by Mem Fox, Possum Magic. I mean how on earth was he going to manage the invisibility of Hush, the possum character on whom Grandma Poss casts a spell making Hush disappear from sight in order to save her from danger in the bush? Despite the invisibility, Hush continues to play an ongoing, major role as her visibility slowly reappears. She rarely leaves the stage.
Well I need not have worried. It all happened with cleverly introduced costume changes and terrific input from the other characters who acted beautifully throughout to stage a pretence that they couldn’t see Hush while she was under the spell of invisibility.
Grandma Poss has forgotten the magic that will return Hush to a state of visibility and, as the story progresses, the invisible Hush and Grandma Poss hop on a bike and travel through the Australian countryside and the country’s major cities, nicely shown through snippets of film, looking for human food that might restore Hush’s visibility. After eating some typical Australian delicacies at various stops, including Pavlova, Lamingtons, Vegemite, Minties, Anzac biscuits and others, Hush returns slowly to a visible state. The critical items are Pavlova, Vegemite and Lamingtons and the return to visibility, and arrival back in the bush where the characters live, is warmly welcomed by everyone.
Milana Gould as Hush danced beautifully. Her finely boned body and her long and flexible limbs brought out the best in Prior’s choreography, which shows not only classical steps and combinations, but some more contemporary movements as well. Kit Thompson as Grandma Poss gave an outstanding performance with excellent stage presence and I especially enjoyed watching two sparring kangaroos (Thomas Boddington and Tadgh Robinson) and an impressive and quite dominant koala (Ethan Mrmacovski).
Possum Magic. The Ballet showed Loughlan Prior at his theatrical best. His insertion of film was exceptional as was his varied choreography to suit the characters, especially for the Pavlova ladies whose dancing was very classical indeed. His collaborators worked beautifully with him with a very danceable score from Claire Cowan, costumes and set from Emma Kingsbury (I especially loved the Pavlova tutus—red skirts trimmed with white Pavlova slices around the edges); and lighting from Jon Buswell. The ballet is a delight to watch and encapsulates beautifully the Mem Fox book on which it is based. It deserves further showings.
The second half of the program consisted of three short items, Degas dances from Paul Knobloch and largely danced by Level 4 students of the School with some outstanding solo sections from Ruito Takabatake; Nexus from Stephen Baynes for Level 7 students; and Techno Requiem from Lucas Jervies showing a contemporary dance style and strongly performed by Level 8 students. I was particularly thrilled to see Nexus as Baynes’ choreography is not often on show these days. Nexus, danced to Capriccio for Piano and String Orchestra by Graeme Koehne, shows Baynes’ innate musicality, his beautiful and sometimes surprising use of space, and his unique choreographic style and structure. But in all this second part showed off the range of dance that is taught at the Australian Ballet School.
In November the Canberra Critics’ Circle announced its awards for 2023. This year five dance awards were presented:
Ruth Osborne, outgoing director of QL2 Dance, which Osborne has led since 1999. Osborne’s award recognised in particular her outstanding input into James Batchelor’s production Shortcuts to Familiar Places, which was presented at Canberra’s Playhouse in April 2023. My review of Shortcuts is at this link.
Natsuko Yonezwa and Itazura Co for the film Kiku. Kiku and its accompanying documentary explored dance and the ageing body through the experiences of six Canberra women. My review is at this link.
Australian Dance Party for Culture Cruise. Culture cruise gave those who joined the cruise an innovative experience over land and water, which fused the performing arts, fine dining and Canberra’s cultural institutions. Read my review at this link.
Gretel Burgess for A Stroke of Luck. A Stroke of Luck gave Gretel Burgess the opportunity to produce and direct her lived experience as a stroke survivor. Bill Stephens’ review is at this link.
Caitlin Schilg for her choreography for the Canberra Philharmonic Society Production of Cats. Caitlin Schilg drew on a diverse range of dance styles to create a series of brilliantly staged production numbers for the musical Cats. Read a review by Bill Stephens at this link.
Oral history interview with Alice Topp
In November I had the pleasure, and honour, of recording an oral history interview for the National Library of Australia with Alice Topp, outgoing resident choreographer with the Australian Ballet.
Alice was most forthcoming about her life and career to date and the interview contains some detailed material about her choreographic process and the establishment of Project Animo, her joint initiative with lighting designer Jon Buswell. The interview is currently undergoing accessioning but cataloguing details will be available in due course.
For more about Alice Topp on this website follow this link.
News from Queensland Ballet
Queensland Ballet has announced details of changes to its line-up of dancers for 2024 including the news that principal dancers Mia Heathcote and Victor Estévez will leave the company at the end of 2023 to join the Australian Ballet in 2024. Heathcote and Estévez have made a remarkable contribution to Queensland Ballet over the past several years. Each has given me much pleasure (Heathcote from as far back as 2013 before she even joined Queensland Ballet) and I hope they will be given every opportunity with the Australian Ballet.
In other news from Queensland Ballet, the company recently announced the establishment of the Van Norton Li Community Health Institute with the goal of sustaining and expanding its Dance Health programs across socioeconomic, age and geographic boundaries and all abilities. For more about the program, including information about the donors to this project, follow this link.
