BALLET
Out and about
CLEMENT CRISP
The Manchester premiere of Kenneth Mac- Millan's new ballet, Checkpoint, was one of those occasions calculated to, give a stage manager nightmares for years to come.
The work is inspired by an incident in Orwell's 1984: a man and woman meet des- pite the State's ban on love, despite the hect-
oring of an omnipresent TV screen and a probing and inquisitive camera eye that fol-
lows every move of the human termites of the new society. Elisabeth Dalton's set is a big and properly menacing futuristic construc- tion, an essential part of which is the projec-
tion of TV broadcasts by 'The Leader' that form a counterplot to the choreography.
Alas, at the first performance the TV screen- ing was be-gremlined, and we saw the piece without Big Brother: inevitably the ballet suffered, but the power of MacMillan's choreography was nonetheless clear.
It offers a study in illicit, hunted passion, danced with a fine despairing grace by
Svetlana Beriosova and Donald MacLeary, ever on the qui-vive, harried and pursued by the constantly searching camera eye, trapped within the white walls of• their horrifying world. The whole concept is brilliantly theatrical; the walls are elastic, and the lovers climb up them in their attempt to find some brief moment of human tender- ness. But the system is all-embracing; at the ballet's end they fall victim to their sur- roundings and are absorbed and eliminated by the walls, disappearing from view into the very fabric of their hellish society. Our last view is of the lovers' arms reaching vainly out to each other" as they are en- gulfed.
Checkpoint is in essence a long, impas- sioned duet to Roberto Gerhard's Collages, markedly novel and beautiful in the imagery through which MacMillan explores the des- perate ruses of the couple to meet and express their love. He uses two planes for the choreography—the movement takes place both on the floor and on the back wall: in no sense a wilful search for novelty but an extra dimension to the dancing itself.
With the 'new' Royal Ballet mounting two important premieres outside London (Field Figures and Checkpoint) and offering an en- tirely modern repertory, with the Rambert and Scottish Theatre Ballets consolidating their pioneering work ,on tour, the whole image of regional ballet is now far from being that permanent nineteenth century hangover brought on by an exclusive diet of Tchaikovsky and swans that could only have resulted in fatty degeneration of the art.
London now seems like just another tour- ing date for these troupes, and last week Rambert paid their usual autumn visit to the Jeannetta Cochrane Theatre. The novelty of the opening programme was Norman Mor- rice's The Empty Suit, a uni-sex sailor outfit (if that isn't a contradiction in terms) worn by the delightful Amanda Knott. A spry little urchin, all eyes and perkiness, she is that compulsory figure of so many modern ballets, the Outsider, unable in this instance to join in the fun and fury of a group who wear brown leotards, for whom Morrice has invented some sinuous and compelling chor- eography. When Miss Knott tears off the suit to reveal that she is really brown-leo- tarded like everyone else, the group are only interested in the suit, which they applaud, while the poor girl collapses. The moral of it all escapes me, but I enjoyed the work for its visual felicities.
Thoroughly enjoyable, too, is the Alvin Ailey American Dance Company at Sadler's Wells Theatre. I have so far only caught up with one programme, but every perform- ance ends with Ailey's Revelations which reflects the heart and soul of Negro spirituals in dance, catching all the joy and terror of an absolutely unshakable faith. It is required viewing, not least for the marvellous dancing, with special mention of Judith Jamison, a Brancusi in movement, and Miguel Godreau, the first atomic-powered virtuoso I have seen.
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