Giannandrea Poesio

The history of Western ballet over the past 40 years can easily be divided into two chapters: the pre- and post-William Forsythe eras. In the early Eighties, the multitalented American-born dance-maker brought Postmodernism into ballet, challenging formulae and tenets that were 400 years old. His radical approach to the old art made some scream with horror. But it also injected new life into a languishing art. Nothing escaped Forsythe’s radical but well thought-out approach. Body axis, symmetries, gravity and gravitas were questioned and reworked along with the many conventions and expectations that were central to both making and watching ballet. Crucial duets disappeared behind a wall, while curtains and lights went up and down in the most unexpected ways.

Legend has it that when the Romantic ballerina Marie Taglioni gave her farewell performance in St Petersburg a group of wealthy fans bought a pair of her slippers, and cooked and ate them as a token of their admiration. Shoe-fetishism has since reached new heights, thanks to Sex — on heels — in the City. Indeed, Sarah Jessica Parker/Carrie Bradshaw’s canonisation of one of the most idealised items of clothing plays a significant part in Shoes, which makes a welcome comeback to the West End. Although it is labelled a musical, Shoes draws upon the long-forgotten tradition of the old review, namely a series of almost independent song-and-dance numbers held together by a thematic pretext.

The Royal Ballet could not have timed better its new run of Swan Lake. Swans — and black ones, in particular — are all the rage these days. The Royal Ballet could not have timed better its new run of Swan Lake. Swans — and black ones, in particular — are all the rage these days. Unsurprisingly, the first performance played to a packed house, although the sell-out could not be entirely credited to the swan-o-mania prompted by Aronofsky’s movie Black Swan. Sarah Lamb starred in the demanding double role that the ballet is famous for and which the film focuses on. Not unlike the character portrayed by Natalie Portman, she is a diaphanous beauty, who knows how to turn into a splendidly vicious and irresistible seductress.

Ballet is a dying art, according to Jennifer Homans’s bestselling history of ballet, Apollo’s Angels. Ballet is a dying art, according to Jennifer Homans’s bestselling history of ballet, Apollo’s Angels. Sensationalist as it may sound, this claim is cogently argued at the end of the book, which turns dreary ballet history into an engaging narrative. Inevitably, the statement has ruffled many feathers, particularly among those ‘hyperspecialists’, ‘balletomanes’ and ‘insiders’ who, she says, speak an ‘impenetrable theory-laden prose’ and have reduced dance to a ‘recondite world’.

English National Ballet has a long history of Nutcrackers, each memorable in its own way. This one, created by ENB’s artistic director Wayne Eagling for the company’s 60th anniversary, is no exception. Contrary to today’s trends, Eagling has opted for a fairly traditional staging, steering away from the lure of modern readings, satirical reinterpretations and impenetrable psychological takes. For the seasoned viewer and newcomer alike, this Nutcracker has the same retro flavour that some illustrated books from 50 to 60 years ago possess, thanks also to Peter Farmer’s luscious sets and costumes. One of its greatest novelties is that the action takes place in this country and not in some fairy-tale German region, as is customary.

Put the life of a legendary music-maker/campaigner in the hands of a controversial choreographer and you’ll possibly end up with some explosive stuff. Put the life of a legendary music-maker/campaigner in the hands of a controversial choreographer and you’ll possibly end up with some explosive stuff. This is what the Broadway producer Stephen Hendel might have had in mind when he asked Bill T. Jones to direct and choreograph a musical about Fela Kuti. But whether or not he saw his dream realised, I am not sure. Fela! hails from Broadway where it has been a long-running sizzling hit. It has great music, an almost endless stream of colourful numbers and an engaging storyline.

According to the programme note, the message in Thierry Smits’s To the Ones I Love ‘does not direct itself to the mind but to the senses’. According to the programme note, the message in Thierry Smits’s To the Ones I Love ‘does not direct itself to the mind but to the senses’. Well, his work is certainly a pleasant sensory experience. Neat patterns of colour, possibly recalling the chakras or energy centres that, in Eastern philosophy, govern our senses and feelings, mark the sections of this one-hour dance. The undeniable prowess of the nine handsome black male dancers with their superbly co-ordinated movements, derived from a mix of idioms, adds to the visual pleasure.

Emanuel Gat’s Winter Variations is not just another male duet. It is also an intense dance piece which captivates viewers from the opening sequence with its unique interplay of movement, music and enthralling performance. Emanuel Gat’s Winter Variations is not just another male duet. It is also an intense dance piece which captivates viewers from the opening sequence with its unique interplay of movement, music and enthralling performance. Created in collaboration with Roy Assaf, who performs it with Gat, this new work explores the choreographic motifs and ideas first seen in Gat’s 2004 Winter Voyage. But you don’t need to be familiar with the previous creation in order to appreciate the sheer beauty of the new piece.

Sadler’s Wells Contrary to some claims, the late Pina Bausch did not invent Tanztheater. Contrary to some claims, the late Pina Bausch did not invent Tanztheater. Nor did all her productions stick to the mind-boggling aesthetic she is universally known and remembered for. Just look at the Iphigenie auf Tauris she created in 1974, shortly after being appointed director of dance for the Wuppertal theatres. Although the germ of what eventually bloomed as Bausch’s own Tanztheater is detectable in this dance–opera, pure dance still reigns supreme; the choreography is not as rhapsodic as it is in her later creations, and the only words one hears are those delivered — more or less beautifully — by the singers.

Postmodernism must be the key motif of this year’s autumn dance season in London, because almost everything there is to see at the moment abides by the uncertain rules of that much-debated artistic movement. Postmodernism must be the key motif of this year’s autumn dance season in London, because almost everything there is to see at the moment abides by the uncertain rules of that much-debated artistic movement. There is no such thing as a standard aesthetic when it comes to the postmodern dance genre. While vintage American, early-1960s choreography is celebrated by both Dance Umbrella’s retrospective on Trisha Brown and the Hayward Gallery’s exhibition Move: Choreographing You at Sadler’s Wells, the spotlight is on Middle-European postmodernism.

Once upon a time, in America, a group of dancers and performance artists gathered in the Judson Church Theater and challenged long-held artistic tenets. The historical significance of their provocative aesthetics led scholars to label their art ‘postmodern dance’, even though there was more to their creations than just dance. A few decades later, their works have not lost their appeal, even though their principles have been regurgitated and tiresomely plagiarised. Take, for instance, Trisha Brown’s Flower of the Forest, the choreographic installation that greeted viewers outside the Queen Elizabeth Hall over the weekend.

The Dance Umbrella season has always been a unique window on international choreography, as well as a great platform for national talent. This year is no different, and the number of international visitors is delectably high. As always, blockbusters share the season with smaller but no lesser entities. Last week I went to see two from the latter category and was utterly intrigued, though not equally impressed. Those who have faithfully followed Phoenix Dance Company for the past decade might recall the Portuguese performance-maker Rui Horta and his somewhat mind-probing aesthetics. His Talk Show is a rather dramatic development of the formulae first seen and applauded in Phoenix’s performance of Can You See Me.

According to some, Onegin is the ultimate expression of John Cranko’s choreographic and theatrical genius. According to some, Onegin is the ultimate expression of John Cranko’s choreographic and theatrical genius. I disagree, for I think that other works are a much better testament to his unique creativity. But I like Onegin because it is one of those works in which choreography and acting go seamlessly hand in hand, thus creating a tension that makes one overlook and forgive much of the poor choreography — of which there is a good handful. That, though, is only when things work as they should. When they do not, the outcome can be dreary, like the performance I saw on the opening night of the new Royal Ballet season.

Cinderella English National Ballet’s 60th birthday London Coliseum The post-second world war decade saw a flourishing of independent ballet companies all over Europe. Those that strove to emulate the Ballets Russes provided an alternative to the companies that aimed at nurturing home-grown talent — such as the Ballet Rambert and what became the Royal Ballet in the UK. It was in this context that English National Ballet (formerly Festival Ballet, London’s Festival Ballet and London Festival Ballet) held its first performance 60 years ago last Saturday. A significant anniversary indeed, particularly because none of the other independent European companies created around the same time has managed to survive so long.

Le Corsaire, Don Quixote Bolshoi Ballet, Royal Opera House For many years in the West, Le Corsaire was just a pas de deux, a dazzling bravura number historically associated with male ballet legends such as Rudolph Nureyev and Mikhail Baryshnikov. Then, in the mid-Eighties, the Kirov Ballet, now Marijinsky Ballet, came along with a fast-paced, colourful and highly entertaining complete version, loosely based on the much-interpolated 19th-century original. Since then, a few more versions have cropped up here and there, including the 2007 one signed by Alexei Ratmansky and Yuri Burlaka, respectively the former and current artistic director of the Bolshoi Ballet. Entertaining as it might be, Le Corsaire is not a masterwork.

Bolshoi Ballet Royal Opera House, until 8 August At the beginning of the second week of its new London season, the Bolshoi Ballet presented the classic Giselle, a ballet which, not unlike other 19th-century works, underwent myriad changes, cuts and choreographic adaptations. It was only after Mary Skeaping attempted to restore the original text in the 1970s that most ballet companies adopted what has today become a sort of standard text. Interestingly, this is not entirely the case with the 1987 Bolshoi production, in which historical originality does not play such a central role.

Triple Bill Royal Ballet, in rep until 11 June After a number of successfully conceived and well-performed mixed programmes, the Royal Ballet’s latest triple bill, its last offering of the season, was a bit of a let-down. This was a pity, for the dancing was good and sometimes phenomenal. One of the problems was that none of the three ballets matched any other. Wayne McGregor’s postmodern heavyweight Chroma, at the beginning, thwarted the thin modernist lyricism of Christopher Wheeldon’s Tryst, which, with its slightly tiresome and uneven thematic layout, was no match whatever with George Balanchine’s Symphony in C, a sparkling tribute to pure classical dance.

Triple Bill Royal Opera House, last perf. 15 May There was a time when the thrill of a ballet première could be sensed the moment you entered the theatre. Today, the disillusioned public, tired of the high percentage of choreographic garbage it is frequently subjected to, takes little or no notice. It’s a pity, for I think that Liam Scarlett’s Asphodel Meadows deserved a buzzier atmosphere than the one that greeted its opening last week — even though there were a good number of ovations and calls at the end. Set to Poulenc’s bubbly Concerto in D minor for two pianos and orchestra, the new ballet is a visually enticing example of outstanding choreographic composition, in which the classical idiom is cogently manipulated, though never betrayed.