Dazzling delight
Giannandrea Poesio
Phoenix Dance Theatre Sadler’s Wells Theatre Royal Ballet Royal Opera House Lugubrious pessimists who despair about the state of contemporary dance in the UK ought to see Phoenix Dance Theatre’s Inter Vivos, one of the most dazzling and entertaining dance programmes of the current season. It opens with Didy Veldman’s See Blue Through, a 2001 work that develops engagingly, using well-established contemporary dance vocabularies. Yet this is anything but a celebration of retro choreography, for its steadily paced solos, duets and groups are underscored by a fluid exploration of motifs and themes that challenge existing dance idioms and practices. The outcome is not just visually pleasing, for the dancing itself has a captivating tension that is constantly punctuated by both lighthearted actions and more dramatic ones.
With its subdued quotations from contemporary dance techniques, Veldman’s work also provides a good introduction to Robert Cohan’s Forest, a classic of British modern dance. Created in 1977, the work has retained its powerful essence and still presents the excellent Phoenix dancers with a unique artistic challenge. The varied, well-paced programme concludes on a high note, with artistic director Darshan Singh Bhuller’s Eng – er – land, a satirical work focusing on an aspect of life in the UK. It draws on the inventive use of computergenerated images, which encase and, in some instances, complement the dancers’ actions. There is a great deal to laugh at, but it would be a mistake to see Eng-er-land merely as a comic piece, for its satire edges frequently on an exposé of everyday horrors. According to the programme note, the triple bill’s Latin title implies the idea of a gift exchanged between the living; indeed, it is a splendidly lively gift.
I wish I could express the same enthusiasm for the other composite dance programme I attended last week, the first of the many mixed bills that characterise the Royal Ballet’s spring season. Alas, I cannot. I can’t understand why Frederick Ashton’s Rhapsody is never revived with the original sets and costumes. They might have been rather glitzy, but at least they matched the choreographer’s intentions. Ashton’s 1980 work can be classified as a virtuoso neoromantic creation, which draws fully upon the now sharp, now sugary ideas from Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini. As such, it requires visuals that neither distract nor detract from the impact of the dancing. This has not been the case with the overcoloured postmodern designs we have long had to endure, and unfortunately it is not the case either with Jess Curtis’s new ones. Lost in semi-darkness against a pseudoromantic backdrop, the dancers, clad in unappealing pastel-ish tunics, cannot convey the vibrant contrasts for which Rhapsody stands out. I also wished that someone would tell the members of the corps de ballet not to parade smiling like ballet school kids at their first end-of-year performance, when the notes of the Dies Irae — synonymous with death and final judgment — are heard.
As we plodded on, things did not get any better. Owing to illness, the new Christopher Wheeldon ballet could not be completed and was thus replaced by two oddly assorted fillers. Pavane pour une Infante Défunte, one of Wheeldon’s early pieces, requires a different context to be appreciated fully. Its delicate undertones and its fragile construction suffered from and added nothing to a fairly unsparky programme, despite the refined interpretation of Darcey Bussell and Jonathan Cope.
Even George Balanchine’s Duo Concertant calls for a more drastically contrasted context to come across fully. This intimate piece, danced to perfection by Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg interacting on stage with pianist Philip Gammon and violinist Peter Manning, is hardly an ideal item with which to conclude the second part. Theoretically, the pyrotechnics are what Balanchine’s Symphony in C should have provided at the end. It is a pity that, despite a roster of stars and some keen effort, the ballet failed to ignite the enthusiasm it normally does all over the world. Apart from some accidents, a lack of co-ordination and a debatable approach on the part of some of the stars the night I went, what was truly missing was the ‘Balanchinian attack’. Indeed the whole thing came across as watered-down and having nothing of the explosive choreographic translation of Bizet’s infectious music that only a genius like Balanchine could come up with. Only Sarah Lamb, Ricardo Cervera, Johan Kobborg and Thiago Soares came up to a more than acceptable standard. As for the other principals, soloists and corps de ballet members, I strongly suggest they seriously rethink their approach to Balanchine’s style.
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