Giannandrea Poesio

The Royal Ballet Royal Opera House It is a well-known fact that ballet lives, thrives and survives in a world of its own. By the time the ‘new’ ideas developed in other artistic contexts have seeped through its thick artistic, technical, cultural and social barriers, the other arts have already moved on. Luckily, such a time warp is visible only to those who are keeping an eye on what goes on in the performing world, and not to those die-hard balletomanes who prefer to ignore whatever happens outside the boundaries of their point-shoed dream-world.

Flight London Coliseum Flight London Coliseum Ballet galas might be the dream of every spectacle-craving balletomane, but they can easily become a nightmarishly boring series of ‘party pieces’ if they are not properly organised. Luckily, this is not the case when a company such as Ensemble Production takes over, as demonstrated by a number of recent and successful events. Not unlike the galas for Maya Plisetskaya’s and Yuri Grigorovich’s 80th birthdays, its latest creation, Flight, organised jointly with the Maris Liepa foundation, brought together a plethora of stars to celebrate a dance artist from the past.

Beijing Modern Dance Company Linbury Studio When it comes to new dance, nothing sells as quickly as a multi- or inter-cultural performance. It matters little that the intercultural approach to art first came to light in the late Sixties; Western modern and postmodern dance-makers, dance-practitioners and dance-goers seem to have discovered this only recently and are having a whale of a time. Do not get me wrong; I like it too, for it is thanks to this interaction of different choreographic styles, genres and cultures, that ageing Western dance idioms have been totally rejuvenated.

James son of James Barbican Three Short Works Royal Opera House James son of James Barbican Three Short Works Royal Opera House It is a pity that the definition ‘theatre dance’ is commonly used to indicate any choreographic activity that takes place on stage, for it could be much more effectively used to describe those performances which do not sit that comfortably under the much more genre-specific term ‘dance theatre’. Look, for instance, at Michael Keegan-Dolan’s James son of James. Not unlike the two previous instalments of his Midlands Trilogy, a triptych based on Irish culture and lore, James son of James is mostly a play with fluidly interwoven moments of dance and choreographed movements.

According to Tom Roden, one half of New Art Club’s dynamic duo, ‘audience participation is s**t’. I could not agree more, especially since public involvement has become the trite last resort many performance-makers turn to when short of ideas. Yet, if it is well handled, it can still work marvels, as the New Art Club’s The Visible Men demonstrated last Saturday. The work, non-stop comedy pyrotechnics and cutting-edge dancing, relies on a disarmingly simple though effective idea: viewers are told to open and close their eyes. In this way, the actions performed on stage by the two artists appear as frames of a movie which develops in a madcap sort of way through many unexpected twists.

The summer ballet season in London, with the traditional arrival of illustrious foreign guests, has a well-established historical tradition. It was during the summer months that, in the 19th century, famous and not-so-famous foreign ballet stars appeared on the stages of theatres such as the Her Majesty’s, the Alhambra and the Empire. Later on, renowned ballerinas such as Lydia Kyasht, Olga Preobrajenska and the legendary Anna Pavlova came to London in summer with small companies or groups, leading the way for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, the quintessential ‘visiting’ ballet company of the first half of the past century. Since then, the summer ballet season in London has provided dance goers with a wealth of memorable experiences.

Stylistic accuracy is one of the most problematic aspects of restaging dance works. ‘Style’ is a fluidly ambiguous notion encompassing a multitude of factors: the training of the choreographer and dancers, particular aesthetic trends, interpretative choices, and so on. Hence the difficulty of getting it right. Stylistic appropriateness goes far beyond any detailed reproduction of mere technicalities and so it also requires an in-depth understanding of the context within which the works were originally created. Alas, this was not the case with the first performance of the new Royal Ballet’s triple bill last Saturday.

I wish the term ‘ballet-theatre’ had not already been snatched and (mis)used by dance historians, for there is no better way to define Will Tuckett’s art: his creations are to ballet what dance-theatre is to modern and postmodern dance. Not unlike some of the most acclaimed performance makers who specialised in the latter genre, Tuckett has taken a recognisable choreographic idiom and combined it successfully with other expressive/theatrical means. His choice, however, was and still is particularly daring; ballet, after all, is not as malleable as modern and postmodern dance techniques and styles.

It is not surprising that Baroque operas have long attracted the interest of contemporary choreographers. Apart from the numerous dance passages that punctuate these works, their classically inspired plots, rife with political, cultural and social metaphors, are inexhaustible and stimulating sources of inspiration for any modern-day artist. Not to mention the fact that a radical and often intentionally irreverent take on much-revered ‘important’ masterworks is a well-established trait of post-modern dance-theatre making. Sasha Waltz’s 2005 staging of Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas is one of the most recent additions in the long series of choreographic translations of early operas and oratorios.

Michael Keegan-Dolan is to dance–theatre what radical and elusive Banksy is to the visual arts. Indeed, these two acclaimed bad boys of modern-day culture have a great deal in common; both derive their art from cruel satire of the everyday, which they portray with similar irreverent and shock-provoking strokes, in spite of their different means of expression. Both indulge in challenging the tenets of existing culture by tackling — some would say ‘desecrating’ — revered monoliths of the art world. And, in formulating their scorching critiques of the surrounding reality, they both resort to a kaleidoscopic pastiche which defies any classification.

Johan Kobborg’s staging of La Sylphide is one of the Royal Ballet’s super hits. It is thus a good and glorious thing that it is back on stage. This time, too, the brief two-acter is aptly coupled with a short piece: Frederick Ashton’s Rhapsody on some evenings and Kobborg’s Napoli Divertissements on others. While the former foreshadows La Sylphide’s tragic mood with its 20th-century dark, neo-Romantic undertones, the latter is, in my view, a more pertinent coupling. After all, Napoli and La Sylphide are the two most internationally known works by the French-born August Bournonville, the dance-maker who in 19th-century Denmark developed a unique response to the dominating modes of French Romantic ballet.

I have always loved Rambert’s artistic eclecticism. The dancers’ ability to adapt to different choreographic styles and demands goes far beyond mere technical bravura and adds greatly to their usually captivating performances. Yet superb technical skills and powerful drive alone cannot secure the success of an evening, especially when the choreography is as unexciting as that of the new mixed bill. The programme I saw started with a cleverly paced short work. Set to the irresistible final movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, Martin Joyce’s Divine Influence is a visually pleasing duet, though hardly ground-breaking or provocative.