Winning Beast
Giannandrea Poesio
James son of James Barbican Three Short Works Royal Opera House
It is a pity that the definition ‘theatre dance’ is commonly used to indicate any choreographic activity that takes place on stage, for it could be much more effectively used to describe those performances which do not sit that comfortably under the much more genre-specific term ‘dance theatre’. Look, for instance, at Michael Keegan-Dolan’s James son of James. Not unlike the two previous instalments of his Midlands Trilogy, a triptych based on Irish culture and lore, James son of James is mostly a play with fluidly interwoven moments of dance and choreographed movements. It is, therefore, more ‘theatre’ than ‘dance’, even though the latter continuously underscores the action and often provides a subtle commentary on the events. In line with the well-constructed plot of Keegan-Dolan’s memorable Giselle, the trilogy’s first instalment, the narrative in James moves fluidly from hilarious moments to intensely lyrical ones, in a sound crescendo that reaches an emotionally breathtaking ending. Yet, in contrast with Giselle and the following work, The Bull, James son of James stands out for the numerous sung interludes that punctuate the action. But James is no West End musical. With catchy tunes and cheesy movement, each number adds humorously abrasive parody to the unfolding of the drama. The result is a vibrant theatre event, which takes the viewer through a rollercoaster ride of emotions. The story of the outsider who ends up paying for all the wrongs committed by the closed society he tries to fit into might be old hat, but it is the way in which the story is told that makes the final chapter of Keegan-Dolan’s Midlands Trilogy a winner. Needless to say, much of its success must also be ascribed to Fabulous Beast’s superb artists.
In the meantime, a new triple bill of short contemporary works from the 20th and 21st centuries is presented by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House. It is a damn good programme that stands out for stylistic consistency, choreographic variety and for the intriguingly effective ‘backwards’ chronological order of the items. Wayne McGregor’s Chroma, first seen in 2006, remains a winner among the many modern and postmodern creations devised by not strictly ‘ballet’ makers for internationally prestigious ballet companies. Its quirky yet lyrical movement vocabulary grabs the viewer’s attention from the very beginning, but what makes it really exciting, in my view, are the linear geometries that underpin with mathematical precision the choreographic layout. The splendid duets and the equally intoxicating group moments can be read as part of a carefully planned system of contrasts and variations that evolves in a rapid crescendo of different geometric possibilities set to Joby Talbot’s and the White Stripes’ unique score.
Chroma’s refined abstractness provides a vividly contrasting background to Kenneth MacMillan’s choreographic reading of Büchner’s Woyzeck, entitled Different Drummer. Büchner’s drama is not an easy one to turn into dance, yet in Different Drummer MacMillan’s cinematic approach to dance narration finds one of its best expressions, thanks to a seamless series of episodes which portray with enthralling crudeness the anti-hero’s spiralling descent into personal hell. Indeed, some ideas look slightly dated and seem to have lost what, at the time of the ballet’s creation, might have been provocative undertones but, as always with MacMillan’s choreography, the characters’ psychological make-up comes powerfully out of the dancing, thus compensating for any flaw time might have bestowed upon this work. As Woyzeck, Edward Watson portrayed sensationally the abused soldier’s journey towards annihilation. Next to him, Leanne Benjamin was equally poignant as Marie, torn between an almost motherly love for the inane husband and her lust for the Drum Major, a dashing Martin Harvey.
As the central item of the programme, Different Drummer is a more than ideal prologue to MacMillan’s earlier Rite of Spring, a work that has rightly acquired iconic status in ballet history. Created in 1962, MacMillan’s version might not be one of the most powerful readings of the celebrated/infamous 1913 ballet, but when it is well danced it still has loads to offer. And at the first performance of this new programme it was performed impeccably by the corps de ballet. Its refined yet visually fierce game of asymmetric symmetries — and I do apologise for the oxymoron — thus came vibrantly and fully to the fore. It is a pity, however, that, oddly, as the Chosen Maiden, Tamara Rojo looked completely out of context, failing to engage with the primitive drive so brilliantly evoked by her colleagues. Her lifeless, uninspired and uninspiring response to the dancing sacrifice created a rather ugly contrast with the rest of the dancing, and detracted from the work’s drama. I only hope that different interpreters in the performances to come will do more justice to this work.
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