Triple Bill
The Royal Ballet
Although George Balanchine’s 1957 ballet Agon is not based on a Greek myth, it is traditionally regarded as the third instalment of the ‘classical antiquity’ series, following Apollo (1928) and Orpheus (1948). Inspired by the competitive displays of physical bravura that were so popular in ancient Sparta, Agon marked a significant stage in the development of Balanchine’s choreographic aesthetic. It is in Agon, in fact, that the dance-maker’s ‘stripped-to-the-essential’ formula found its most vivid first expression. Visually unhindered by costumes and sets — the action takes place against a monotone backcloth and the dancers wear T-shirts and leotards — the enthralling complexities of the choreographic layout can thus be fully appreciated in line with Balanchine’s creed, ‘dance for dance’s sake’. Set to an equally innovative score by Stravinsky, who had just started to incorporate techniques of serial composition into his work, the ballet juxtaposes 12 dancers and 12 choreographic episodes with the Stravinsky 12-tone row of notes as well as with the 12 old French melodies he used for the composition.
The final outcome is a seamless kaleidoscope of ideas based on a superlative fusion of classical ballet vocabulary with movements derived from other, more modern dance practices; not surprisingly, it remains one of the greatest choreographic compositions of the past century. As such it deservedly brought the house down on the opening night of a new Royal Ballet triple bill.
Beautifully staged by Patricia Neary — one of Balanchine’s former muses — it started the evening on a high note. I have often complained about the disappointing approach of the Royal Ballet’s dancers to the Balanchine style, but this time I am happy to take it all back. Interestingly, the male contingent looked much more at ease with the work’s complexities and nuances than their female counterparts, who often looked out of synch. Carlos Acosta, Johan Kobborg, Valeri Hristov and Brian Maloney thus shone as near-to-perfect Balanchinian interpreters. Among the females only Melissa Hamilton looked, in my opinion, completely au fait with the whole thing, as highlighted by her breathtaking duet with the ultra-superb Acosta. Despite being technically strong, Mara Galeazzi, the interpreter of the well-known percussion-only solo, indulged too much in the subtle sensuality that underpins it, and let her interpretative individuality come to the fore far too often.
According to Wayne McGregor, his new creation Limen is the third in a series which also includes Chroma (2006) and Infra (2008). Not unlike these last two, it draws upon the collaboration with both an outstanding visual artist, Tatsuo Miyajima, and a cutting-edge composer, Kaija Saariaho. Admirers and connoisseurs of McGregor’s choreography will also find other commonalities, particularly where architectural symmetries of the dance compositions are concerned. Limen, however, does not merely repeat well-established choreographic ideas: it manages to steer away from predictability. It is as if McGregor revisited his most distinctive signature feature in order to move away from self-plagiarism. The outcome of this potential self-revision is stunning, for the knowledgeable viewer is constantly surprised by a subtle game of unexpected twists and challenges to known ideas.
The rule of three does not apply to Glen Tetley’s 1977 Sphinx, which is not part of a choreographic triptych. But the ballet was inspired by the 1934 play La Machine Infernale, namely the third Greek myth-based drama by Jean Cocteau, who had also referred to Greek mythology for the libretto of Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex. Although Tetley played a significant role in the development of modern ballet in the late Sixties and throughout the Seventies, his works never possessed ground-breaking qualities. His modern-dance-derived ideas combined with ballet might have been striking at the time, but now look, in retrospect, dated and not terribly exciting. Such a problem is particularly evident in Sphinx, in which none of the choreographic ideas can be said to be memorable. The Ter-Arutunian sets, too, with an imposing winged structure towards the back of the stage, look terribly retro and unnecessarily overwhelming. It’s a pity, for the dancing could not have been better, thanks to Marianela Nuñez as the eponymous mythical creature, Rupert Pennefather as Oedipus and Edward Watson as the implacable god Anubis.
As a whole, this new triple bill is not exactly the perfect incarnation of what, stereotypically, a night at the ballet should be. Still, the absence of pretty tutus and catchy tunes should not put anyone off. Sphinx notwithstanding, it is a dense but very interesting programme that compensates for the disappointing Sleeping Beauty I reviewed last week.
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