Dance
Birmingham Royal Ballet (Royal Opera House) Trisha Brown Company (Queen Elizabeth Hall)
It's not just the steps.
Giannandrea Poesio
The technical ability to switch from one choreographic genre to another has always been Birmingham Royal Ballet's forte. The correct execution of the steps, howev- er, does not on its own secure an ideal per- formance, for it needs to be integrated with a full understanding of the choreographer's creative formulae. An appropriate stylistic rendering, for instance, is a vital element in works by either George Balanchine or Frederick Ashton. Unfortunately, neither of the two performances I attended last week at the Royal Opera House seemed to conform to the required styles.
Ashton's Birthday Offering was conceived as a piece d'occasion to celebrate Ninette de Valois' birthday in 1956, the year the Sadler's Wells Ballet became the Royal Ballet. But the ballet is not merely a show- case for seven female dancers and their partners — its nickname among dance peo- ple is 'seven brides for seven brothers'. Birthday Offering is a celebration of that idealised diva-like figure Ashton wanted all his female interpreters to be, modelled on the legendary Russian star Anna Pavlova, who sparked off his passion for theatre dance.
Each of the seven solos depicts a mode of dancing that quotes directly from Pavlo- va's art, as revealed by a comparison with the few existing films of the celebrated bal- lerina. To overlook the tiny, curious move- ments of the hands, the slightly tilted forward posture of the torso, the coquettish intricacies of the quick footwork and the typically Ashtonian tongue-in-cheek chore- ographic innuendos means to reduce the ballet to a boring, flat technical display.
The new sets and costumes by Peter Farmer do not help much either. Although the original tutus designed by Andre Lev- asseur might not have been everybody's idea of balletic elegance, the old bell- shaped, knee-length female costumes did complement the choreography, often dic- tating the quality of the movement. The new, classical short tutus do not suit a choreography where the focus is mainly on the lower part of the leg.
Balanchine's Theme and Variations can- not be danced in the same way as Sleeping Beauty — even though the ballet contains many references to the 19th-century classic. In spite of a great deal of technical effort, the Birmingham Royal Ballet's perfor- mance lacked that American panache which the Russian-born choreographer was so keen on, thus becoming a rather prissy adaptation of the original text. Similarly, the neoclassical abstract boldness of Agon, another of Balanchine's masterworks, did not come across at all — again because some dancers were constantly beaming like ballet students at their first school perfor- mance.
Dancers should not be blamed, though. Their technical abilities and interpretative skills were fully demonstrated in the two Bintley ballets, Carrnina Burana and 'Still Life' at the Penguin Cafe, which respectively completed each programme. The stylistic flaws derive mainly from external factors, such as the kind of training those dancers receive in order to meet the public's expec- tations. According to today's technical standards, the emphasis is mainly on 'achieving' the most, instead of staying within the framework of one's body — which is what dancers of previous genera- tions used to concentrate on. The choreog- rapher's intentions have become less important than the much favoured and often gratuitous hyperextension of the bal- lerina's legs. This purely virtuoso approach has resulted in a uniformity of styles and techniques, regardless of any difference in time, space and school. No wonder many works have lost their stylistic identity.
It was a relief, therefore, to see Trisha Brown and her company at the Queen Eliz- abeth Hall. Unlike some of her fellow choreographers, Brown has managed to update her formulae without relying on any ephemeral choreographic trends. Her movement style has thus remained unique, a vintage yet live example of post-modern dance of which she is one of the high priestesses; she has demonstrated also that American dance can still be controversial and interesting.
Some might find her works unnerving — length is a characteristic of the central work of the programme, MO., set to Bach's Musical Offering — repetitive and self-indulgent. Yet, in M.O., there is no repetition as such, for the structure of the work evolves continuously so that each choreographic solution — based on a mix- ture of esoteric gestures and Brown's dis- 'I'm afraid you've failed on the road rage section.' tinctive minimalist movements — develops from the previous one, thus allowing the exploration of many scenic and choreo- graphic possibilities.
Similarly, her solo, If you couldn't see me, danced with her back to the public, stands out for the way in which the choreogra- pher/interpreter refers to a well-structured yet unpredictable set of movements to pro- voke and communicate a great many emo- tions — ranging from sheer, selfish irritation to a mesmerising enjoyment — without revealing her own. Her dancers were excellent too. Their performance con- firmed that, somewhere in this world, dance is an art and not mere circus.
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