BALLET
Cartier's jewels
Robin Young
Jean Albert Cartier must be something special: a director who gives a ballet company an identity and spirit of Its own without either taking on too much of the work himself, or farming too much in any one direction.
This year London has seen the Joffrey Ballet, whose reputation stood or fell (and for most people fell) by the choreographies Of Gerald Arpino; the Mart Ballet which the eponymous Maurice created in his own Image; anonymous dancers performing Alvin Ailey's tricks; and most recently the Birgit Cullberg Ballet from Sweden. After a promising start, the Cullberg company finished their visit on a lamentably low note. Apart from The Green Table (a version without the impact which even the Joffrey team achieved) and a ludicrously presented Corsaire pas de deux, everything was by Miss Cullberg. Certain gestures, for instance, girls lying with legs in the air to indicate readiness for sexual intercourse, became painfully familiar. It frankly also grew a little wearisome, despite his undoubted qualities, to find Miss Cullberg's son, Niklas Ek, in all the biggest male parts.
Now, at Sadler's Wells, we have BalletTheatre Contemporain from the Amiens Maison de la Culture. Jean-Albert Cartier, the director, aims to make each of their new ballets (and all their ballets are new —twenty produced in just three seasons) the product of a close association between choreographer, composer and designer. So we have scores by leading contemporary composers (the oldest hat being Stravinsky's), designs by mostly young sculptors and painters whose names mean something, and works by six choreographers.
I count myself fortunate that there was not heavier dependence on the company's resident choreographer, Frangoise Adret, whose Aquatheme and Requiem I found tiresomely devoid of interest. The former re-created the atmosphere of an aquarium, but that would suit a fish, surely, better than me. The latter, though strongly danced by Magdalena Popa, scarcely complemented Ligeti's rather awful score. Much to be praised, however, are two superb duets for Martine Parmain and James Urbain, the company's leading couple. Violostries, by Michael Descombey, has an intense Parmegiani-Erlih score and a brilliant silver cage designed by JesusRaphael Soto. John Butler's sort of sexual kendo in Hi-Kyo keeps perfect pace with Fukushima's moody music.
There is also a lively version of Danses Concertantes by Felix Blaska (the group dancing could be tidied up but the duets are fine), and every performance winds up with Hopop, which even if it does not deserve such prominence, matches a pop score with pop art costumes (after Guy Pellaert), and successfully cods Beethoven, romantic legend, and those metronome cygnets from Swan Lake. A pity it did not give the same gentle send-up to the Pan's People or Young Generation type of dancing with which Dirk Sanders fills it.
Meanwhile at Covent Garden they have revived Serenade, which Balanchine first improvised for his students in 1933. Georgina Parkinson seemed ill-suited, but Ann Jenner, David Wall and David Blair showed to advantage. I relished Monica Mason's deputising with Nureyev in Swan Lake — a serious, introverted and truly Swan-like Odette (some people think the white swan should behave like an ecstatic duck), and an Odile flashing recognisable evil — but not even Miss Mason could reconcile me to Field Figures. She put more sinew and less sinuousness into it than Bergsma, and Desmond Kelly understandably paled into insignificance in comparison with Nureyev — but the thing remained an intractable bore. The Dream and Dances at a Gathering as a double-bill, though, is an absolute must (so I hope I get some tickets).
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