29 May 2026. Hannah Playhouse, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Voyages was a stimulating new venture by RNZB—a program of seven short works, five of which were choreographed by Company dancers. In recent years these have been studio showings of similar programs of new or draft works, but here the chance to dance on a stage, albeit an intimate size in the Hannah Playhouse, with the added benefit of lighting, provided another welcome sign that the Company with every season is returning to its former strength and confident identity under the artistic directorship of Ty King-Wall. The happiness that engenders on both sides of the footlights is palpable. The return to a modest printed program including a cast list is more welcome to a reviewer than mere thanks can convey, and also honours those who make and deliver the dance. The record will thus stay in the archive forever, whereas digital files are not nearly so easily accessed after curtain down, let alone in years to come.
Each of the seven dance-makers offered fresh ideas and styles, and we can look forward to seeing more from each of them. Katherine Minor’s Marga’s Dance had a delightfully fresh quality as two couples ‘stopped their work, meeting a dance to fill the air’ … youthful friendship, in a fine choice to open the program.
Somewhere, by Branden Reiners, a duo of two men—’a memory of brotherhood and love’ was a charged yearning for intimacy impressively performed by Timothy Ching and Jake Gisby.
Who Came to Be, by Gretchen Steimle, had a large cast of ten dancers whose many entrances and exits, solos, duos and groups, very effectively served her theme—’Some of us grow into the spaces others leave behind’.
Phase II, by Breyah Takitimu, had another large cast of eight dancers who ‘explore the tension between the desire for control and the inevitability of change’, another very well-shaped work which included jokes about ballet technique given a sassy twist.
Weathered, by Joshua Douglas had six female dancers dressed in airy and soft grey, supporting his theme of emotional endurance ‘finding strength not through resistance but through continuation’. This was a thoughtfully shaped work.
Jeremy Beck as guest choreographer provided welcome humour in Soft Reset, a clever satire that showed the dancers might take their work but not necessarily themselves seriously. Comedy is harder to play than tragedy and this proved a hoot of a closing piece to a gem of a program.
The dancers all delivered impeccable performances, the more impressive as the audience were at very close range and any slip would have been apparent. There were no slips.
A duet, Swan Song by Shaun James Kelly, inspired by Swan Lake, used Tchaikovsky’s music to explore the personal emotion within the roles. It was exquisitely danced by Mayu Tanigaito and Laurynas Véjalis and you could have heard a feather drop. This was all the more poignant as it marked Shaun’s retirement from performing after twelve years with the Company, though it’s not entirely farewell and thank you as he will continue as resident choreographer with the Company. Lucky us.
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.
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.]
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).
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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).
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.
While the list of dance productions to be staged in 2026 offers dance-goers a wide range of productions to anticipate, there are two new works that I am especially looking forward to seeing. The first is Alice Topp’s production of Macbeth. It will premiere in February in New Zealand with Royal New Zealand Ballet before going on to Perth in September where it will be part of West Australian Ballet’s 2026 season.
Macbeth? Many years ago now I studied Macbeth in my final year of school. We read and analysed it for a whole year! Then to my absolute surprise a few years ago, which was decades after I had finished school, while on a sightseeing trip in Scotland, we were told by the guide we were heading to Dunsinane. The name immediately took me back to that final year of school and the phrase ‘from Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill’, which features in Macbeth. But that aside, Macbeth, given its high drama and deeply emotional content, is perhaps the last Shakespearean play I would have thought I would see as a ballet. Topp says her production is :
An epic story fuelled by political ambition, passion, desire for power and the burden of guilt, Macbeth’s themes are potent and enduring.
I am definitely looking forward!
The second new work I am anticipating with particular pleasure and interest is Liz Lea’s Diamond. I mentioned Diamond in my Dance diary. October 2025 and it has since been officially launched. It will be premiered in Queanbeyan in August. One media comment explains:
With moments of raw honesty and riotous play, Diamond celebrates the brilliance that emerges through time – the courage, fragility, and power that define you as you evolve. Inspired by the enduring strength and many facets of a diamond, the work reflects on how we are shaped by experience, pressure, and the will to keep shining. A sparkling homage to the resilience and beauty of ageing women – bold, unapologetic, and full of life.
Lea has worked extensively with community dance companies over the past several years, with great success. But it will be heartening to see her create a new work that will show us more of her creative self. In the production of Diamond, she will be working with a number of diamond consultants and the writer and dramaturg Brian Lucas. See this list for those working with Lea on Diamond.
Publicity shot for Diamond
Hans van Manen (1932-2025)
I recently received news that Dutch dancer and choreographer Hans van Manen had died in Amsterdam in mid December, aged 93. Van Manen had an extraordinarily extensive career as a dancer and choreographer. As a choreographer he created more than 150 works, of which sadly I have seen very few (mostly overseas}. But his influence on Australian dance artists has been extensive.
The Hans Van Manen Foundation has an informative website. It contains a wealth of material about the man and his work including a list of his choreography’
Press for December 2025
– ‘Young choreographers step into the spotlight.’ Review of Emerging Choreographers Project. Quantum Leap Australia. CBR City News, 14 December 2025. Online at this link.
UPDATE 15 January 2026: Comments are closed on this post given that it has been receiving, in a very short space of time, an inordinate number of spam messages.
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Thank you to all who have visited this website over 2025, especially those who have taken the time to comment on specific posts. I wish you a happy and safe new year and look forward to welcoming you back to the site in 2026.
Liz Lea , ever engaged in new projects, has been commissioned by the Sydney-based AMPA (Academy of Music and Performing Arts) to create a new work for the dance students of the Academy for their upcoming end of year show, Euphoria. Lea’s work is called Promenade and will premiere on 5 December 2025.
Dancers from AMPA rehearsing for Promenade. Still from a rehearsal video
Watch below for an insight into the work.
Creative Australia Awards
Two dance artists, choreographer and director Kate Champion and dancer-choreographer Rosalind Crisp, have been honoured at the 2025 Creative Australia Awards held in Brisbane in November. Kate Champion received the Theatre Award and Rosalind Crisp the Dance Award.
Kate Champion, currently artistic director of Black Swan State Theatre Company in Perth, Western Australia, was honoured for ‘three decades contributing to Australian Performance’. Those decades include the founding of the much admired contemporary dance-theatre company Force Majeure in 2002, which she directed until 2015. Her credits extend across a variety of theatrical genres in addition to dance including opera, film, theatre and circus.
Rosalind Crisp was the recipient of the Dance Award. She founded Omeo Dance Studio in Sydney in 1996 and was invited to Paris in 2002, where she became Associate Artist at Atelier de Paris (2004–2014). She was awarded a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et Lettres by the French Ministry of Culture in 2015, and her work has toured nationally and internationally. She is currently commissioned by the Dresden Frankfurt Dance Company.
Brief videos focusing on the awards are available online: Kate Champion at this link, Rosalind Crisp here.
Honouring Ana Gallardo Lobaina
My colleagues in Wellington, New Zealand, have let me know that on 19 November, His Excellency Luis Ernesto Morejón Rodríguez, Ambassador of Cuba to New Zealand, Cook Islands and Niue, was welcomed into the Royal New Zealand Ballet studios to honour principal artist Ana Gallardo Lobaina. His Excellency presented Ana, born and trained in Cuba, with an artwork by Cuban visual artist Yosvany Martínez Pérez. It is, I understand, a tradition in Cuba to honour artists who have made a significant input into the company with which they work. In presenting the award the Ambassador said:
Today, we are delighted to see a dancer born and trained in Cuba take her place among the principal figures of the Royal New Zealand Ballet, bringing her talent, sensitivity, and energy to this company. The recognition we are presenting to Ana today is a testament to her tireless work, unwavering perseverance, and artistic excellence.
I have greatly admired the dancing of Ana Gallardo Lobaina, in particular in Loughlan Prior’s production of The Firebird (2021), and the award is well deserved. For posts that feature the work of Ana Gallardo Lobaina on this website see this tag.
A similar honour will shortly be bestowed on Dr Elizabeth Dalman, AM. Elizabeth will be awarded the insignia of Chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters by the Ambassador of France to Australia, His Excellency M. Pierre-André Imbert on 2 December at the Embassy of France in Canberra.
The award was established in 1957 to recognise eminent artists who have contributed significantly to furthering the arts in France and throughout the world. More after 2 December.
19 and 20 November, Te Whaea, Wellington reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
The NZSD end of year performance season has reverted to separate classical and contemporary programs alternating across a ten-day period.
The first night, classical program, opened with a suite of dances from La Sylphide, staged with care by Nadine Tyson (a former graduate of the School, dancer with RNZB, and a classical tutor on the faculty). The Sylph was danced by Kaiserin Darongsuwan (Mook) flirting gently with James, Hui Ho Yin (Mike) who performed with lively elevation. The 12 lyrical sylphs gave the realm of spirits in the forest at night a gentle atmosphere.
The Bournonville legacy from Denmark is a longstanding one in this country, thanks to Poul Gnatt’s founding of New Zealand Ballet in 1953 and the repertoire he introduced. It remains a vivacious and distinctive style within the balletic canon, challenging performers to harness the striking energy contained within the body, rather than striving for an extended alignment common to other styles of ballet. (A number of New Zealanders rose to international recognition for their mastery of the Bournonville style—Jon Trimmer, Patricia Rianne, Adrienne Matheson and Martin James leading them).
The second work, Curious Alchemy, is by Loughlan Prior (now a free-lance choreographer, following his earlier career dancing with RNZB, and also a graduate of the school). The style of movement in this piece is quirky with torsos and limbs moving in segmented isolations that certainly earn the first part of the work’s title. The choice of Beethoven and Saint-Saens compositions, set at unusually loud volume, made further contrast to the staccato moves of the four performers—Liezl Herrera, Ella Marshall, Lin Xi-Yuan (Ian) and Hiroki So.
Façade, choreographed by Jeffrey Tan, staged by Robert Mills, and set to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, is a pas de deux of emotional connection between the two performers, Ella Marshall and Lin Xi-Yuan (Ian). The rapport between them was strongly forged yet built to an unusual ending where the distance between them was emphasised and well-captured.
Esquisses, by Christopher Hampson, staged by Turid Revfeim, (also a graduate of the school, with a long and substantial career at RNZB and subsequently as director of Ballet Collective Aotearoa) is set to an energising (mainly piano) composition by Valentin-Alkan. Costume design is by Gary Harris, former director of RNZB who shared a spirited rapport with Hampson back in the day (Hampson’s Romeo & Juliet remains one of the strongest memories of the company’s powerful theatrical repertoire from that time).
The tutu design by Harris is striking and cleverly used, there is élan, cheeky humour and whimsy in the choreography throughout, designed specifically for young dancers, until the male solo adagio by Hui Ho Yin (Mike) emerges and becomes quite the most beautiful, musical and poetic highlight of the evening, an embryo of the art of dance.
The contemporary program the next evening had five works, all world premieres, so an altogether different energy in the venue. The opening piece titled You Cannot Make a Deal with a Tiger, choreographed by Riley Fitzgerald, should be renamed You Can Make a Deal with a Tiger, since that’s what the dancers seemed to achieve—facing the fear, finding support from another, putting up the fight and surviving, with an ending that echoed the opening image.
God is in the Room, by Tristan Carter, had a loopy zany vibe with smiling and playing games, making like animals, then moving to a frenetic sequences of shouting and group movement but not involving all individuals equally. Deliberate non-sequiturs in the movement, and quite random dress for individual dancers, underlined the program note ‘Energy never dies, it only transforms’.
Crybabies never Pelu, by ‘IsopeAkau’ola, draws on Tongan themes of resilience and support within a community. Pele is Tongan for ‘fold’ and the title here implies folding rather than breaking. The opening guitar sounds brought aural clarity to the line-up of black clad martial artists who used the discipline of stylised moves to get the dance up and running. The late great Futa Helu said that the Tongan definition of dance is ‘keeping time’—in that wonderful pun we can recognise here features of hand and foot movements from old Tongan ways of dancing, welded in to the new sequences for this focussed group dance that had gravitas, dignity and a contemplative quality to support a theme both contemporary and timeless.
Anatomy of Entanglement by Aitu Matsuda for a group of dancers clad in matching light and darker grey, explored the theme of the many moving parts within a larger entity, and had a compelling quality.
The Space Between, by Raewyn Hill, to an original score by Eden Mulholland, gave this two-program season the cadence and resolution it needed. A driving triple time beat was used as grounding for the sizeable group of dancers to build and grow beautiful waves of movement throughout the dance which became the great Waltz of Time. Some bars and some dancers alternated that waltz with a sarabande rhythm, still in triple time but with the accent instead on the second beat in each bar, keeping us mesmerised throughout…where will it go? where will it take us?
The work builds its strength as the entire cast stays on stage throughout. They became an entire community garbed in glorious colours, a dancer here and another there lifted aloft, to float or fly, then safely lowered to join the group, irresistibly happy dancers smiling, not because they’d been told to smile but simply because the work offered them such an uplifting quality of hope, and who’s to say that isn’t what graduating dancers need and deserve. It’s no surprise that Raewyn Hill, herself an illustrious graduate of this school in earlier times, came up with this treasure and it’s very good to see it sitting so well on these dancers.
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I am certainly not alone in the audience thinking that a single program combining classical and contemporary works, rather than setting them apart as separate realms, would allow the audience to see the fullness of the NZSD’s strengths, the range of professional opportunities awaiting the graduates, and enhance rather than isolate the ways in which all choreographers and dancers share the same goals of communicating themes and expressing moods and emotions through movement, albeit of differing styles.
It is clear that many of the graduates can look forward to fruitful and rewarding careers in dance, and we wish them all the very best in that.
30 October 2025. St. James Theatre, Wellington with New Zealand Symphony Orchestra reviewed by Jennifer Shennan
Royal New Zealand Ballet’s Artistic Director, Ty King-Wall, has created a new production of The Nutcracker, a fun-filled frolicking entertainment set among images of New Zealand landscape, flora and fauna, childhood summer holidays in the bach, games on the beach, with sweets and treats for a major sugar rush and lashings of nostalgia.
The choreography is more than that though, and stitches in themes and sequences from the traditional story and productions as it traces the family context for the coming of age of Clara, the young girl growing to sense and glimpse the adult world. There are poignant undertones as the present is braided with an older family member’s memory of the past, the younger one’s glimpse of the future, and parents’ moment of danger when a child goes missing.
A key figure is Aunt Drosselmeyer, a famous dancer who returns from abroad with mysterious powers plus gifts for the family, including a Nutcracker doll for Clara, and a snow globe for brother Fritz. She also brings a film projector to show the children a cameo of a Commedia dell’Arte performance, which opens a door away from the everyday and into the faraway, wherever a child’s imagination will take us. The power and colour of Tchaikovsky’s large scale orchestral score, conducted by the invincible Hamish McKeich, feeds these forces and fills the theatre with atmosphere.
Inventive design by Tracy Grant-Lord and POW studios begins with the overture—a front curtain of a 1950s postcard (you possibly still have one in the attic?) a painting of native flowers and trees—kōwhai, mānuka, pōhutukawa, rātā, harakeke, tī and ponga. But wait, that kōwhai blossom moves in the gentlest of breezes, and then a mānuka flower shimmers. Now from behind a bush, a creature, part honey-bee part buzzy-bee, emerges in search of nectar. Better keep an eye on that as later in the ballet it will become a ski-plane to transport you to a mountainous kingdom of snow in our very own Southern Alps. It’s an inspired visual effect to show the country’s landscape from the plane’s windows as we travel.
There are numerous other design transformations—small tree grows into a giant forest, complete with red-eyed predators, possums, stoats and weasels to be exterminated. Smart soldiers from the Nutcracker army need additional help from Clara as she fires a weapon that exterminates the biggest bully Mouse King (I’d have called him a Rat as he falls into the foundations of the ballroom he was planning to build).
A ruru sounds a convincing call of warning, and gives me the shivers.
There are a number of standout performances on opening night, though it’s noteworthy that several alternative soloist casts are billed for the extended Wellington season and following national tour—testament to the company’s strengths. Caterina Estevez-Collins plays a charming and sensitive Clara. Laurynas Vejalis as the Nutcracker-turned-Prince dances with remarkable virtuosic technique but is able to overlay that with a lyricism that rides the music with meaning. Mayu Tanigaito as the Sugar Plum Fairy makes a most welcome return to the stage, and the pas de deux she and Vejalis dance is of rich quality and harmony, an act of love, and the highpoint of the evening.
Character roles include Kirby Selchow as Aunt Drosselmeyer, carrying that with great style. Shaun James Kelly as a drunken kereru makes an amusing mess of trying to fly. Kihiro Kusukami as the powerful Storm Master dances up an impressive wind in the Land of Snow.
I have recently read The Dreaming Land—a memoir by Martin Edmond of his childhood in Ohakune in the 1950s. He writes of ‘the existence of a world of Maoridom about which most Pakeha knew nothing … there was simply no awareness among the people I knew that we lived cheek by jowl with a strong, coherent and richly complex culture. It is a lack I profoundly regret.’ This new choreography poignantly encompasses that notion by including the small but noteworthy role of Koro, the Maori grandfather of Clara, with Moana Nepia and Taiaroa Royal alternating in the part. Koro gifts a blanket to his granddaughter, and comforts her when she needs that. He dances for a fleeting moment with the memory of his late wife, a kind of ghost of Christmases past.
There is much energy in the band of children, and the ensembles of snowflakes, flowers and somewhat over-dressed confectionery, to make this a production that will draw enthusiastic crowds as it tours the country. Haere rā to them all.
A recent article, written by Madison McGuinness and published on 9 July 2025 in The Greek Herald, had the following two introductory paragraphs:
The Sydney Dance Company captivated a crowd of 5,000 at the Odeon of Herodes Atticus last week, performing Impermanence as part of the Athens Epidaurus Festival 2025.
Set against the historic backdrop beneath the Acropolis, the emotionally charged performance explored the fleeting nature of existence through movement and music.
The featured image on this month’s dance diary (see above) shows SDC dancers taking a ‘curtain’ call in front of that ancient building. It is the image that leads into the Herald article, an image that is credited to Australia’s ambassador to Greece, Alison Duncan, who according to the article ‘hailed the performance as a personal milestone’.
While it was excellent news to hear of the success of Sydney Dance Company, Duncan’s image from Greece reminded me of those wonderful images dating back to the 1960s showing the Australian Ballet dancing at the Baalbek International Festival in Lebanon in 1965 when, for a few nights, they performed in the precinct of the ruined Temple of Bacchus.
I remember seeing images of the dancers in Baalbek but have not been able to find any for this post. The SDC image now takes the place of those 1965 shots, for me at least.
My review of Impermanence (onstage, Sydney 2021) is at this link.
Mandolina Ballerina (Tessa Karle)
Canberra’s Mandolin Orchestra has an interesting show coming up with the evocative title of ‘Mandolina Ballerina’. It features a Canberra-trained dancer, Tessa Karle, who currently performs with Royal New Zealand Ballet. The image below shows Karle in a recent production by RNZB, The Way Alone choreographed by one of Australia’s most admired choreographers, Stephen Baynes.
The image below is an advertising poster for ‘Mandolina Ballerina’, for which Karle has created original choreography, and in which she will perform. The music includes sections from Swan Lake and Nutcracker.
I am hoping to see the show, which will have just two performances on 16 August at the premises of Folk Dance Canberra in the suburb of Hackett. Potentially a review will follow.
The Panov tour … a little more
After reporting in last month’s dance diary on the death of former Russian dancer Valery Panov, I went in search of a little more detail on the 1976 tour to Australia and New Zealand by Ballet Victoria in which Valery Panov and his then wife, Galina Panov, were guest artists. I was able to gain access, via the National Library of Australia, to the program for the Canberra season of the tour, which consisted of three shows at the Canberra Theatre, 21–22 June 1976.
The Canberra program began with Petrouchka, which was the major work presented across venues in Australia and New Zealand.
Petrouchka was followed by Concerto Grosso, a work choreographed by Charles Czarny to music by Handel. It had designs by Joop Stokvis and was originally choreographed for Nederlands Dans Theater in 1971 and given its Australian premiere by that company on tour in 1972. Re-choreographed especially for Ballet Victoria by Czarny it was in seven sections: Warm-up, Boxing, Tightrope, Obliquatory [sic], Skating, Football, and Karate. The Canberra program also included Jonathan Taylor’s Stars End, which was created especially for Ballet Victoria to music by David Bedford. Program notes discuss the work briefly, noting that ‘[It] depicts people meeting people … parting … ultimately everyone is alone.’
The audience also saw two pas de deux choreographed by Panov and danced by him and his wife. One was Adagio célèbre to music by Tomaso Albinoni for which program notes state:
This is a prayer to the dream inside Man. Unfortunately, life cannot keep dreams forever and tension takes the beauty of it away. Man prays to keep this dream forever but remains only with the prayer of his dreams.
The other pas de deux seen in Canberra was Harlequinade to music by Riccardo Drigo with choreography by Valery Panov ‘after Fokine’ and with input from Alexander Gorsky who choreographed Galina Panov’s variation. Program notes read that it concerns, ‘The classic involvement of the two prime characters of the commedia dell’arte, Harlequin and Columbine [in which] Harlequin pays court to the demure soubrette, Columbine.’
Programs for other cities included Les Sylphides and various other pas de deux.
News from James Batchelor
James Batchelor has received funding from artsACT to present his new work Resonance in Canberra. Resonance, which is a response to material Batchelor has been investigating in relation to Tanja Liedtke, will open in Sydney in September before travelling to Melbourne and then to Canberra where it will play on 10-11 October.
Michelle Potter, 31 July 2025
Featured image: Dancers of Sydney Dance Company taking a curtain call following a performance in Greece, July 2025. Photo: Alison Duncan
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
In what was a joint program of four works, two from Royal New Zealand Ballet (RNZB) and two from Scottish Ballet, I imagined there would be some curiosity from audience members (or some people anyway) about the nature of ballet. I certainly was curious. Both companies have the word ‘ballet’ in their name for a start, but the details of the program sounded unusual.
Opening the program was Schachmatt (Checkmate in English translation) from Spanish/international choreographer Cayetano Soto, who was also responsible for the set, costumes and lighting. The work was based, notes tell us, on Soto’s admiration for and interest in the songs of people such as Joan Rivers as well as the choreography of Bob Fosse.
There was an exceptional, short and shadowy opening sequence. It was attention-grabbing and at first some of the dancers towards the back of the group looked almost like shadows rather than people.
But as the lighting became less shadowy, we could see the cast dressed in light blue-grey costumes, wearing black stockings that at first looked like knee-high boots, and with black caps as head gear. They danced often with the pelvis pushed back so the spine never looked straight; with arms often making geometric shapes; and with emphasis on hands often stretched flat; and with fingers twisted and curled. The dancers’ movements were fast and furious and bodies were bent and twisted. It made me think how different the movement was from the technique we assume is balletic. It seemed like a quirky novelty rather than a ballet. In fact the whole thing looked anti-balletic to me, although nothing could take away from a powerful performance from every dancer.
Schachmatt, which received an exceptional audience response at its conclusion, was a short piece, just 20 or so minutes, and was followed by a brief, spoken introduction from the stage by RNZB’s Artistic Director, Ty King-Wall, who was accompanied onstage by Director of Scottish Ballet, Christopher Hampson, dressed in a Scottish-style kilted outfit.
After thinking constantly during the unfolding of Schachmatt, especially about choreographic expression and its relationship to balletic concepts, it was an exceptional experience to watch the second item on the program, Prismatic from RNZB Choreographer in Residence, Shaun James Kelly. Kelly played with movement without removing so many balletic essentials as seemed to happen in Schachmatt. Kelly’s choreography showed fluidity; detailed interaction between dancers without that interaction being frenzied; smooth and curving shapes from the arms; lifts that were quite spectacular and that demonstrated a remarkable manner of moving through space; and a great use of the stage area, often in unexpected ways.
We were watching a particular choreographic voice, but one that was not removing what makes dance balletic. Prismatic gave me goose bumps and it was a pleasure to watch the dancers performing to an audience, to us. That’s a personalised approach and was not something I got from the first item. To me Prismatic was theatre.
After interval we watched another short work, Limerence, this time from Annaliese Macdonald, former dancer with RNZB, now freelancing. Performed to music by Franz Schubert, it was made for four dancers who interacted with each other, displaying different emotions at different times.
The leading role was danced strongly by Joshua Guillemot-Rodgerson but we were never completely sure of exactly where his emotions were directed. What was he thinking? What were the others thinking as well, especially when they were trying to guide him through an event? In fact, a quote from Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke was written in the program notes: ‘Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.’ That quote gave a strong indication of the nature of Limerence.
Choreographically Limerence had a beautifully strong contemporary feel but it was clearly based on an understanding of balletic technique. The bodies of all four dancers were used as expressive tools to transmit emotions.
The final work Dextera (a play on the word ‘dexterous’) came from Franco-British choreographer Sophie Laplane. It was danced by a large cast to excerpts from various compositions by Mozart. Laplane mentions in program notes that she was interested in ‘portraying the complexity of human nature through dance’ and complexity of movement (large and small, individual and group) was clearly on display.
Red gloves were a feature. In the beginning one fell through the air from the flies. Then dancers entered, all wearing red gloves. Sometimes one set of dancers ripped the gloves away from the group wearing them. The gloves were then ripped back. In the final moments a swathe of gloves fell again from the flies. I am assuming that the gloves referred to the fact that dexterity usually indicates skill involving the hands.
Another feature of Dextera was that red ‘handles’ had been added to some costumes and dancers (mostly the women) were picked up, (mostly by the men) using the handles, and the bodies manipulated in some way.
Choreographically Dextera teetered towards seeming suitable for inclusion in a program by a company with the word ‘ballet’ in its name. It was clearly pushing movement boundaries but, at least to me, the dancers looked like human beings and the choreography looked as though there was a balletic background that was being used in the ‘pushing’. But the work seemed so long, which was not made to feel shorter when many sections of the work appeared not to relate to each other. I was relieved when the work eventually concluded.
The outstanding feature of the program, over all four works, was the strength of the dancing. Whatever movement ideas the choreographers chose to investigate, the dancers rose to the challenge and performed with gusto. And all my congratulations to the staff of both companies for creating a program that put forward a challenge. In fact, as I left the theatre I had the feeling that it would be hard to find a performance that could give rise to so many varying thoughts about the nature of ballet.
