The Heart of Another is a Dark Forest

Restless Dance Company and Rawcus Theatre

Dancehouse, Melbourne

September 24, 2008. As part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival.


Combining playfulness with poignancy, this joint production is a tapestry of theatrical images, woven together by directors Kate Sulan and Ingrid Voorendt. Inspired by the question of how well we can ever really know each other, the duo have created a movement-based performance which incorporates improvisation into a choreographed structure.

The companies involved, Restless Dance Company from Adelaide and Rawcus Theatre from Melbourne, both employ performers with and without disabilities. Some are wonderfully fluid movers, while others have larger than life personalities which emerge through the many brief vignettes.

The pace is slow to begin with, but the momentum eventually builds with the assistance of the live music by Jethro Woodward and Zoe Barry. A simple yet resonant sequence for the women, set facing away from the audience, leads to a sombre passage as a lone performer walks toward the audience, flanked by dark and grotesquely shaped figures moving in slow motion.

The episodic fragments grow ever more personal, including an intimate moment between a blind, wheelchair-bound man and a young woman as they gently explore each other’s faces, and an eerily fascinating dance where a performer’s shadow becomes a giant of ever-changing proportions.

Using wallpaper and ramps, Emily Barrie’s design transforms the Dancehouse theatre into an accessible, multi-level space, while Richard Vabre’s excellent lighting heightens the sense of isolation within the group.

Despite moments of joy and tenderness, much of the work in this contemplative production suggests that we may never truly know what lies inside the heart of another.

(First published in The Age newspaper)

Graduate Exhibition

The Australian Ballet School

State Theatre, the Arts Centre, Melbourne

September 21, 2008


The Australian Ballet School has a tradition of providing outstanding ballet training, producing the majority of dancers in Australia’s professional ballet companies and many others who find work overseas. The graduating class of 2008 is no exception, displaying not only fine technique but more importantly, great performance skills.

In a range of solos, pas de deux and ensemble pieces from the traditional story ballets, all of the students are extremely well rehearsed, with barely a miss-step to be seen. Whether as playful cats or royal courtiers, their characterisations are charming. Standing out from the cohort, Kristy Corea is delightful as the dream-like Dulcinea in the Dryad Scene from Don Quixote, while Luke Marchant is perfectly princely in the Florestan pas de trois from The Sleeping Beauty.

Another side to the training at the school is shown in a series of neo-classical vignettes taken from Jiri Kylian’s early works, including Sinfonietta (pictured above). Unfortunately some of the Dream Dances didn’t come off quite smoothly enough, although Brett Chynoweth was impressive in his lyrical solo. Karen Nanasca and Daniel Roberts handled a complex duet from Kylian’s Return to a Strange Land with great skill and emotional maturity.

Choreographed by former Australian Ballet company member Timothy Harbour, Ignis is an interesting modern ballet which the performers appear to relish. Accompanied by a luscious Paul Giger score, Harbour contrasts dynamic male allegro sections against elegant partner work, experimenting with hand-held lighting and original movement pathways.

From the opening parade of the entire school in Grand Defilé to the exuberant joy of the final Graduation Waltz, the young dancers fill the cavernous space of the State Theatre with their enthusiasm and energy. Their versatility and competence in both classical and contemporary pieces bodes very well for the future of ballet in Australia.

First published in The Age newspaper

The Australian Ballet 2009 season

The AB launched their 2009 program last night, another year of David McAllister's safe-as-houses scheduling. There's been a real pattern emerge in recent years; the traditional story made-over, some new short works and a classic to keep the punters happy.

Not much has changed for '09. In fact, there are quite a few repeats of ballets performed by the company in just the last couple of years.

One of two full-length story ballets to be performed is Stanton Welch's Sleeping Beauty, which premiered in 2005. The other is Graeme Murphy's Nutcracker. While this particular Nutcracker hasn't been seen in Melbourne since 2000, Peter Wright's version of the same fable was performed by the company in 2007. Is ballet really so short of storylines that we have to recycle them in such short rotation?

Murphy will also create a new work for the company - a re-visioning of the Ballet Russes classic Firebird. It will feature in a triple bill with the original Fokine ballets Petrouchka and Les Sylphides. Sylphides is also a repeat - it was performed in the Fokine tribute McAllister put together for the 2006 program - but a safe bet for marketing purposes.

Another well known name, (and thus guarantor of bums on seats), Nacho Duato, will anchor the second triple bill. Duato's Por vos muero will accompany two new works by Wayne McGregor (UK) and Alexei Ratmansky (Russia), both upcoming choreographers in the ballet world. Here at least is a chance for an interesting night of contemporary choreography!

Which brings me to wonder why Melbourne is still excluded from the Bodytorque season. Surely there is enough audience interest to warrant it? Or are the AB worried about competing with the fabulous independent contemporary dance scene here?

They certainly have the independents out-done in the marketing stakes. Teaming black with white, the Paris Match double bill features yet another repeat in Suite en Blanc (last performed in 2005, see my review here) plus Stanton Welch's Divergence, created on the AB in 1994. I never saw it performed, but I can remember the fabulous photos of Justine Summers in that black industrial-strength tutu (above), which I'm sure will also help to draw the crowds.

So, for us fussy, regular dance goers, 2009 will be a year of few surprises at the ballet. Lets hope that when the Ballet Russes tributes are over we'll get some more interesting fodder.

To help you make up your own mind, the company has also launched a flashy new website:australianballet.com.au

From the archive: Sounds of the Pacific

Te Matarae/Orehu, Tolegeu, Te Vaka

23 March, 2006. As part of the Commonwealth Games Festival

Myer Music Bowl

It was a night filled with pounding rhythms and passionate dance. Bringing together performers from all over the region, Sounds of the Pacific was a showcase for some wonderful talent and cultural knowledge.

The Maori kapa haka performers of Te Matarae/Orehu filled the stage with their fierce, physically powerful presence. The large group of men and women alternated between melodic musical items and garish war dances, in arrangements that were entertaining and fascinating. Humorous and concise explanations of some of the elements allowed the audience to gain a deeper understanding of Maori culture, while still enjoying the show.

Creating a very different, almost celebratory atmosphere was the Solomon Islands group Tolegeu. Their music was created using panpipes of all sizes, ranging in pitch from tiny soprano to enormous bass, with larger, percussive versions as well. In striking white body paint and traditional dress, the all-male group performed traditional dances whilst playing their instruments. With knees bent, their stamping, hopping and occasional spear thrusting movement had a wonderfully natural rhythm and energy.

Completing the evening was the highly polished troupe Te Vaka (pictured above). Primarily from New Zealand, but with strong ties to the tiny islands of Tokelau, Tuvalu, Samoa and the Cook Island group, they combine contemporary sensibilities with traditional Oceanic beats. With lyrics sung almost entirely in Tokelauan, the harmonies and melodies of the 12-strong group were very easy on the ear.
The dancers of Te Vaka were also fantastic. Performing with great enthusiasm and cheeky smiles, a young woman dressed in coconut-shells and grass skirts performed a beguilingly-good hip swiveling dance, while the men's positively potent routines lit up the ampitheatre.

While the breaks between the groups were quite long, it was worth the wait to see these highly skilled, traditional yet entertaining acts.

More traditional dance from the Australasian and Pacific region can be seen in Melbourne in November 2008 at the Australasian World Music Expo

On dance criticism

Some interesting thoughts from Deborah Jowitt's article in the Village Voice, Getting it

How much should a critic know about a choreographer's intentions and talk about them? There often seems to be a disconnect between what choreographers say they're doing and what actually occurs onstage. Although several colleagues I queried mentioned the value of advocacy criticism at a time when new and unfamiliar art is baffling the public (John Martin on modern dance in the '30s, Jill Johnston on radical dance in the '60s, and Rosenberg on the abstract expressionists come to mind), we also found we had similar reactions to Tere O'Connor's brief that critics familiarize themselves with an artist's intentions beyond those in the program notes.

Joan Acocella of The New Yorker magazine: "I do not see my job as requiring me to go to artists, find out their intentions, report their intentions to the reader, and then talk about how they fulfilled or didn't fulfill their intentions. There's actually a word for that approach; it's the intentional fallacy in criticism (that is, you judge [a work] on its intentions). . . . I see myself as a member of the audience, so whatever the artist's intentions are, many of them—maybe most of them—I won't be able to discern."

Jennifer Dunning of The New York Times: "I don't think reviewers should have any inside knowledge; it seems to me very important to respond as an informed audience member. I hate the word critic; I like the word reviewer because I think that [what I write] is a second view, a re-view."

John Rockwell of the Times: "Even if [critics] think they're deeply involved in the birth of a work, they have to be seeing it from the outside—and not just as the audience's representative; the very nature of the perception of artwork places one at a distance from the creator, or indeed anybody else watching the artwork. To pretend otherwise is kind of futile."

Rockwell also puts forth the notion of criticism as a parallel art form: "Then the issue is not so much replicating the choreographer's thought processes and somehow analyzing the work in the terms that the choreographer himself would use; it becomes a parallel exercise in which some combination of intellectual analysis and poetic and tactile invocation are all used in an effort to create for the reader a vivid picture."

A critic usually struggles to get at something essential about a dance (and is very happy when a choreographer feels he or she has succeeded). However, it's impossible for anyone to write of an artist's work exactly as the artist might, nor would the attempt necessarily produce interesting prose. To me, reading dance reviews opens multiple perspectives on a single event (somewhat the way O'Connor's choreography does). I wouldn't want controversy to fade from the commentary that surrounds the art form and, I hope, supports it.

I agree with everything Jowitt puts forward here. In my opinion, it is important for a critic (reviewer) to advocate for the art form and to find the most appropriate language with which to do this. Unfortunately, given the constraints of writing for a daily publication, there's rarely much time or space in which to do it.
It's always a question of balance; how to divide the few words I have into description of the mood, movement, design and music; critical analysis of structure, style, technique and performance; along with any relevant historical notes or background information.
Squeezing as much as possible into each sentence and still finding a way for the words to 'sing' is my greatest challenge. Higher aims include preserving the work, describing it for those who didn't see it, following the progression of an artist's development and sometimes even the development of a new form.
It's an ongoing learning process and a great responsibility, being a dance critic.

The Treasure, White Fan and Xing

Red Span Dance Company

Dancehouse, Melbourne

6 September, 2008

Reviewer: Jordan Beth Vincent

The Red Span Dance Company merges traditional Chinese with contemporary Western dance in its three works, The Treasure, White Fan and Xing, all choreographed by Feng Feng Wang. In each piece, the beauty is in the detail-- the flutter of a fan, the gentle intertwining of limbs, or the framing of bodies in windows of light.

The Treasure gives an intimate portrait of a relationship beginning with the wonderment and discovery of new love. Two dancers (Nick Sommerville and Suhali Ahmad Kamil) emerge from a cocoon of dark fabric into a circle of light. In one marvellously intimate moment, the tips of the dancers’ middle fingers remain connected as their bodies sway and arc through the air. Frustration and playfulness are simultaneously explored as Kamil leaps at Sommerville, only to be caught midair in a tangle of legs and borne gently to the ground. The two dancers eventually find solace in one another’s arms, rotating on the spot, captured in a perfect moment of understanding.

White Fan, a solo piece performed by Wang, explores traditional Chinese fan work within the context of contemporary dance. Wang brandishes her fan as she moves with absolute control and precision across the stage.

The third work, Xing, looks to the five traditional Chinese elements of Taoism: wood, fire, earth, water and metal. Although it feels overlong, there are some wonderful moments such as when the three women slowly roll and sway, cradling the air around their bodies. In another moment, the two men, (Sommerville and Tony Ng) slide, tumble and fall along a slim corridor of light, their casually crossed arms belying the energetic movement of their lower bodies.

Wang creates a meditative environment on stage across the three works. The focus of the dancers is reflective and their movement gentle. The result is beautifully crafted and mesmerizing.

For more information about the company, www.redspandance.com.

From the archive: Quiet Listening Exercises

Julia Robinson and Phoebe Robinson

Bus Gallery, 117 Little Lonsdale St, Melbourne

25 May, 2004


In a novel take on the intimate performance experience, dancer/choreographers Julia and Phoebe Robinson have created Quiet Listening Exercises, a dance piece wherein viewers listen to the score via headphones while the performance proceeds in silence.

Transmitting the sound through headphones allows the audience to fully immerse themselves in the work, removing the distraction of outside sounds. While gaining an intimate connection to the sound score, some of the personal connection with the dancers is lost, as though they are performing behind a glass wall. Their gaze is faraway throughout, increasing the divide. The feeling of separation is magnified in a moment of darkness, the audience isolated by their headphones with only the haziest square of light illuminating the space. Are the women moving or are our eyes playing tricks?

The choreography is almost completely abstracted, leaving only the vaguest reminders of the fairytales that it apparently developed from. It is rather in the delicate tracery and other-worldly manner of the movement that we see the influence of the mythical tales. It seems that the strength of this work lies in its ambiguity, allowing the viewer to project their own imaginations onto the scenario rather than following a prescribed narrative.

Quietly beautiful, the dancers refrain from virtuosic movement and yet imbibe the work with precise shifts in dynamic. In one section they subside into the ground, their languorous poses soon to be contrasted against tense snatches of phrase that dart in and out from behind a wall. The women lightly shunt along the floor, adding to the intrigue as their hands weave intricate patterns in the air.

The sophisticated sound score by Felicity Mangan evokes a tinkling, ethereal landscape whilst retaining an air of abstraction and ambiguity. Intermittent blue and orange globes are strung along the walls like tangled thorn bushes, the only adornment to the small, bare space. Childishly simple yet finely textured costuming by Jamie Hurst Nelson is suitably indeterminate in its intention, mixing adult flourishes with juvenile forms.

Quiet Listening Exercises is tantalising in its brevity, a finely tuned performance infused with mystery throughout.

(Originally published in The Age newspaper)

From the archive: The Earth Beneath Our Feet

Front: Jason Lam. Left to right: Tanya Voges,
Kyle Kremerskothen, Trisha Dunn, Joshua Thomson

Tasdance

6 July, 2006

Dancehouse, Melbourne



To celebrate their 25th year, Tasdance presents a triple bill of new and existing works by Australian choreographers. The Earth Beneath our Feet is at once entertaining and challenging, offering a range of choreographic styles that cross generations.

As the Crow Flies, by Nanette Hassall, was originally performed in 1988, by the recently disbanded Melbourne company Dance Works. It is a masterfully structured piece, invoking gentle geometries through the careful use of space, timing and sinuously recurring movement phrases. Set to the orchestral strings of Shaker Loops by John Adams, both music and movement build from languidly graceful sequences to an energetic crescendo. It requires strong technique from the dancers, who achieved a good level of precision.

Tanja Liedtke explores themes of construction and collapse in her new dance theatre piece, Always Building (pictured above). Incorporating a surfeit of bright costumes, props and movement ideas, the end result is disjointed and somewhat cluttered. While some inventive, clear images emerge, including a dioramic skyline of head-stand sky-scrapers, this draft needs more work to develop beyond the scattered building blocks.

The most tightly focused and entertaining of the three works is A Volume Problem, by Byron Perry. Featuring small speaker cores which come to life in the hands of the dancers, Perry creates an amorphous, non-human world in episodic fragments. A duet for Trisha Dunn and Kyle Kremerskothen is particularly well crafted, their alien postures and wafting touches reminiscent of two animated anemones. With simple yet sharp lighting, set and costume design, the choreography is clean and creative, sensitive yet amusing.

The six young performers of the ensemble generally handled the diverse program well, yet occasionally lacked cohesion and dramatic presence.

In the ever-diminishing contemporary dance landscape, it’s wonderful to see a small company investing in the development and promotion of quality Australian artists.

(Originally published in The Age newspaper)

From the archive: White

The Australian Ballet

June 9, 2005

State Theatre, the Arts Centre, Melbourne


Reflecting on the history of the white tutu in ballet, White is a trilogy of ballets spanning three centuries.

Couched between two well-known ballets - La Bayadere and Suite en Blanc - is Relic, a new work by resident choreographer Adrian Burnett.
Burnett tries to acknowledge history and move towards the future of the "ballet blanc", but is not entirely successful.
Relic features 11 men and a woman, a play on the large female cast and single male of traditional white ballets.
In the opening scene, Rani Luther, in a fussy white tutu (pictured), is ensconced in pale drapery with a large chandelier, immediately linking the tutu with a past era.
Emerging from the cocoon, she is joined by the men, who are wearing loose white skirts. As the work progresses, layers of costume are stripped away, down to a bare beige tutu and finally unisex, skin-toned leotards.
The movement is an incongruous mix of showy ballet steps interspersed with modern dance cliches. Unfortunately for Burnett, a flexed foot and an off-balance tilt do not constitute new movement, as he purports to create.
Nor does he explore alternate partnering techniques. Even in the two male pas de deux, there is little variation from traditional ballet forms.
Despite his insistence in Relic's program notes that the woman is more than an object of beauty - "She is the equal (of the men) in every way" - Burnett's choreography reads otherwise. Luther is repeatedly lifted, paraded and manipulated, rarely moving independently. Her expression is strong, yet the choreography betrays her, constantly returning her to passivity.
Relic is far from a satisfactory modern ballet experience. The one saving grace is the fascinating score by Bartok, Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste.


Act 4 of Petipa's 19th-century ballet, La Bayadere, is titled The Kingdom of the Shades. It follows Solon, an Indian prince, hallucinating about finding his murdered lover Nikiya in a ghostly other-world. The shades, in gauzy white tutus, slowly descend in a snaking line to the dark stage, illuminated by a murky moon, with symmetrical grace.
The technical demands of the two lead roles are easily met by Lucinda Dunn and Robert Curran, yet the dramatic possibilities are not entirely realised.


Suite en Blanc is a series of picturesque ballet variations, choreographed in 1943 by Serge Lifar. While beautifully simple to watch, the choreography is deceptively difficult for the dancers, who gave an outstanding performance.
Madeleine Eastoe was demure yet gorgeous and Lana Jones again displayed her astounding athletic ability. Lynette Wills' brilliant technique shone in the pas de trois with Curran and Matthew Lawrence. But it was the star performances of Rachel Rawlins and Gaylene Cummerfield that really impressed. Cummerfield performed the fiendishly difficult Variation de la Cigarette with confidence, chic style and joyful effervescence, while Rawlins was elegant and musical in her equally demanding variation and pas de deux with Tristan Message.

(First published in The Age newspaper)

Interplay

The Australian Ballet

State Theatre, the Arts Centre, Melbourne

August 28, 2008


Interplay is a triple bill of new ballets, focusing on the interaction between choreography, composition and design.

Choreographed by Stephen Baynes, Night Path is a mysterious piece, set in the world of the subconscious. It follows a woman, exquisitely danced by the ethereal Madeleine Eastoe, as she floats impassively through dreamscapes, surrounded and supported by a small but excellent cast.
Leanne Stojmenov, Daniel Gaudiello and Tzu-Chao Chou are brilliant in their jazzy trio, while Andrew Killian as Eastoe’s main partner is both tender and strong.
Using non-traditional yet elegant shapes, the choreography is carefully structured and closely allied to the music, which was composed by Richard Mills. With flattering costumes, draped fabric backdrops and delicate tree branches suspended above the stage, Michael Pearce’s stunning design enhances the overall concept.


Matjash Mrozewski’s Semele is based on classical technique, but uses a wide movement vocabulary to express the mythical narrative. The cinematic score by Gerard Brophy helps to build the drama, assisted by Adam Gardnir’s evocative yet simple design.
The gods, Juno and Jupiter, dance a restrained yet powerful duet, performed by Olivia Bell and Robert Curran (pictured above, image by Jeff Busby). There’s a sustained sense of possession as Bell sinuously extends her long limbs, intimately entwining them in subtly controlling embraces of her husband.
Meanwhile, the illicit love scenes for Jupiter and mortal Semele, danced by Juliet Burnett, are arranged with seemingly endless positions for creative lovemaking, yet even their kisses are executed without passion. While technically sound, Curran and Burnett’s characterisations are unfortunately weak in comparison to Bell, who is outstanding as the imposing, jealous goddess.


The most abstract of the three ballets, The Possibility Space by Nicolo Fonte is busy and modern. Set to an incredibly difficult score by Ross Edwards, Fonte’s convoluted choreography echoes the constantly changing rhythms and melodies of the music.
There’s a sumptuous moment of clarity when the ensemble perform a languid adage, perfectly suited to the breathy strings of the accompaniment, yet it’s all too brief. In chaotic solos, duets and trios, the dancers rotate their hips, shoulders and elbows while performing demanding leaps, turns and balances, often at breakneck speed.
Combined with Markus Pysall’s kingfisher-blue costumes, a black set and bright white lights, the detail is overwhelming.

In what was a risky program for The Australian Ballet, the gamble has mostly paid off due to the high calibre of artists involved and some fine performances by the dancers.


First published in The Age newspaper

For more info and images visit the Interplay website