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Posts Tagged ‘Debussy’

19th century ballet had no qualms about favoring the ballerina over the danseur. The bulk of the classical repertoire seemed intent on relegating male dancers into partnering or brief virtuoso solos tailor-made for a particular dancer (think Cecchetti‘s Bluebird). But the 20th century saw balance  restablished with a generation of danseurs like Nureyev and Baryshnikov following in Nijinsky’s example and reclaiming back the spotlight. Royal Ballet Guest Principal Carlos Acosta, one of the most popular classical dancers around today, has carried the male dancer manifesto into the next century. His blend of jaw-dropping technique, sparkling bravura, with added Latin charm seems to captivate audiences beyond the ballet regulars, drawing crowds into sold out performances.

Carlos Acosta and Begoña Cao. Photo: Johan Persson / Sadler's Wells ©

In his latest show Acosta sets to explore the role of the male muse in ballet, focusing on such strong danseur roles as evening opener Afternoon of a Faun. Clear of nods to Nijinsky’s original scandalous, sexually powered version, choreographer Jerome Robbins’s version uses Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune to frame an encounter between two dancers in a ballet studio. They observe themselves and each other in the mirror as they go about their daily exercises. Although this mirror effect will be lost to anyone not sitting at stage level, this is a great opportunity to see a subtler side to Acosta, without the outrageous leaps and turns that so define him. Instead we get charm, exhuberance, a true sense of intimacy (which is sometimes lost in larger stages) and chemistry with his partner Begoña Cao (ENB).

Young Apollo, created by Adam Hougland for the Manchester International Festival precedes and opposes Balanchine‘s Apollo. It showcases young, up-and-coming Junor de Oliveira Souza (ENB), a talented Brazilian with legs that stretch on forever. Junor alternates bursts of solo dancing to match Britten‘s soaring music with an athletic pas de deux with Erina Takahashi. Their ever changing bodies and the piece’s contemporary vocabulary at points reminded me of McGregor sans tech paraphernalia.

A Suite of Dances, originally created by Jerome Robbins for male superstar Baryshnikov, sets itself the almost impossible task of matching ballet to music by Bach. In one corner renowned cellist Natalie Clein plays selected movements from Bach’s cello suites. In another, a blasé Acosta, dressed in a strange combo of red tee and bright orange trousers, responds to the music, feigning improvisation. As he tries, in vain, to impress the cellist with his moves he dishes out dazzling grand pirouettes and tricky beaten steps (let us not forget who this piece was originally created for). In a final desperate attempt he cartwheels towards Natalie who remains resolutely indifferent, unlike the audience who reacts with thunderous applause.

Carlos Acosta. Photo: Johan Persson / Sadler's Wells ©

Evening closer Apollo sees Acosta alongside the similarly proportioned ENB trio of Daria Klimentová, Begoña Cao and Erina Takahashi, respectively, muses Terpsichore, Polyhymnia and Calliope. Acosta might look more Herculian than Apollonian but his moves are godlike and virile, with elegant lines that stretch and linger on Stravinsky‘s score. If the purpose of the evening was to explore the male muse, no other work would have been more fitting. Acosta owns it, he knows it and so does his adoring audience.


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Since mixed reviews (including our previous opening night write up) have plagued the Royal Ballet’s celebratory “Ballets Russes Triple Bill”, I approached last Friday’s penultimate performance with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. By now, I thought, with most of the “nerves” gone and all the quirks fixed, it is not unreasonable to expect the dancers to be at their best.  I had also brought with me the ultimate tester for impact, a friend who had never been to a ballet performance. I was interested to see how she would gauge these ballets, given the stylistical differences between them.

The Royal Ballet in Les Sylphides. Photo: Johan Persson ©. Source: The Independent.

 

Les Sylphides started with Chopin’s Prelude in A (op 28) sounding wonderful, even if  a tad too slow in tempo. The curtains opened to show beautiful sylphs in pristine white Romantic tutus, standing in perfect poses. The cast was full of replacements: Johan Kobborg instead of Federico Bonelli as the Poet, Yuhui Choe instead of Alina Cojocaru and Helen Crawford replacing an indisposed Lauren Cuthbertson, as announced just before curtain up, so only one (Laura Morera) out of three sylphs had been originally cast. But all these cast changes did not detract and if Les Sylphides is supposed to evoke mood and display the beauty of dancing, I can happily report it did, thanks to Yuhui Choe and her sheer virtuosity: she was ethereal, vaporous and light. Her bourrées barely skimming the floor and her arms full of delicacy; her balances lasting for all eternity and her jumps with landings so soft that one could think she was floating. Yuhui’s artistry was so distinctive that when Laura Morera came in to dance the waltz, the jumps felt a bit heavy, the arms not delicate enough (although Laura’s innate musicality was evident in the phrasing of the steps. I still think of her as more of an allegro dancer). Helen Crawford was a slightly better fit for the Mazurka, but she still looked more like a maiden dressed as a fairy rather than a real spirit of the woods.

From left to right. Johan Kobborg, Yuhui Choe, Laura Morera and Helen Crawford. Source: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

From left to right. Johan Kobborg, Yuhui Choe, Laura Morera and Helen Crawford. Source: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

The corps de ballet were in great shape and although one would wish for a bigger display of ethereal qualities, which sometimes depend not that much on the dancing but on the dancer, every gesture and movement was precisely timed and positioned into the succession of dances. As the poet, Johan Kobborg gave a decent performance, his cabriolés a delight (pure Bournonville goodness), but I felt this was not a role he relishes and in all honesty it does not play to his strengths.

One thing that bothered me in Les Sylphides more than the slow tempo (for at times the music did speed up) was the strong lighting which prevented us from  experiencing the eeriness of Benois’ design of ruins in a dark forest. I longed for a darker stage with only the light on the white of the tutus (a suggestion of moonlight) allowing for a glimpse of the ruins and the surrounding trees.

Next in the programme was Alastair Marriott‘s Sensorium, a strikingly contrasting work, even though the inspiration behind it somehow resembles that of Les Sylphides. Marriott wanted to give a choreographic response to Debussy’s preludes in the same way that Les Sylphides is Fokine’s response to Chopin’s orchestral suite. As I wasn’t aware of which particular preludes were going to be used in performance, I decided to just try and make the “sensory associations” that Marriott wants from his audience.

Senso

From left to right. Thomas Whitehead, Leanne Benjamin, Rupert Pennefather and Alexandra Ansanelli. Source: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

In a midst of extensions, contortions and twists against a backdrop of salmons, blues and nudes, there were moments in Sensorium in which the choreography suggested images of wind, sea and sand. In particular, there were two pas de deux, the first with Rupert Pennefather and Alexandra Ansanelli (who is retiring at the end of this season) and the second with Thomas Whitehead and Leanne Benjamin. Both were well matched pairs, with Rupert faring quite well in a non-danseur noble role supported by the gorgeousness of Alexandra’s extensions. Leanne and Thomas presented more of a passionate “twisting and turning” pas de deux that was very enjoyable and contained some classical steps amidst the unusual shapes. The last prelude incorporated all the dancers and had the main couples surrounded by blue bodies moving as if they were waves in the sea (in something that resembled yoga’s downward dogs!), the peach background evoking a windy sunset. This was probably my favourite “sensation” from Marriott’s choreography. The downside is that nothing in the ballet is particularly memorable (with the exception of Colin Matthews’ Debussy’s orchestrations) so I see this ballet being probably revived a couple of times before fading away.

The Royal Ballet in The Firebird. Photo: Dee Conway ©. Source: The Guardian

I did not have high expectations for the last piece with Roberta Marquez cast as “The Firebird” as she does not rate very high on my personal board of favourite dancers. However, not only did she prove worthy of her principal dancer status, she was literally on fire: her jumps were athletic (quite a big jumper she is!), her turns were flashing. Her hands expressive and her gestures spot on at all times. Trapped by Ivan Tsarevich, you could see the Firebird’s surprise and despair on her wings, how she tried to free herself. In fact, Marquez and the ever awesome Gary Avis as the Immortal Kostcheï were the highlights of the performance. First Soloist Valeri Hristov danced the part of Ivan, a bland role that doesn’t require much from the male dancer, so it is hard for me to evaluate him. The corps and members of the Royal Ballet School were good as the various creatures in the final scenes and the designs and costumes are something to be admired on their own. However, it occurred to me that this piece would be better placed with other narrative ballets rather than abstract pieces, given that it’s so rich in mime and huge dramatic ensemble scenes.

Fire

From left to right, Valeri Hristov, Roberta Marquez and Gary Avis. Photo: ROH ©. Copyright belongs to its respective owners.

All in all, in this Triple Bill the Royal Ballet came up with a good display of dancing which more than honours the memory of Diaghilev: variety of styles, great dancers and music, which makes it great for newcomers: my friend loved Les Sylphides and was mesmerized by the images it created. She also found Sensorium to be interesting and contrasting. However, she felt let down by the Firebird, in the sense that she was not expecting so much theatricality to be served up last, after the abstractions of the previous pieces. For me, that summed up what a good triple bill should be about, a treat for everyone. For me? This triple bill was certainly not perfect, but it had its moments.

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