State Theatre, Melbourne
March 22, 2013

By Rain Francis.

In a dusty old box in a storage unit somewhere there lays a copy of American Ballet Theatre’s Don Quixote on VHS. Though its format is now teetering on extinction, the battered little tape is anything but forgotten. Filmed in 1984 and starring the incomparable Mikhail Baryshnikov and Cynthia Harvey, it was my entertainment of choice in the hours between school and ballet practice. I knew every nuance of it like the back of my hand and never got bored with watching it.

Hearing that The Australian Ballet was staging Rudolf Nureyev’s version of Don Quixote this year, my expectations were sky-high. Thank goodness I wasn’t disappointed.

The structure of the ballet is perfectly balanced; the fun and dynamics of Act 1 and 3 are enhanced by a hypnotic, dreamy Act 2. Principal Artist Amber Scott was as close to flawless as a human being can get; a smart choice for the Queen of the Dryads. Corps de Ballet member Benedicte Bemet as Amor was a standout, exquisitely bird-like and cherubic.

In the lead roles of Kitri and Basilio respectively, Principals Leanne Stojmenov and Ty King-Wall shone. They weren’t able to top my memories of Harvey and Baryshnikov, but taking this production purely on its own merits, it would be impossible to find fault with these two outstanding current artists.

Coryphée Garry Stocks was hilarious as the ridiculously foppish Gamache, but it was Soloist Brett Simon’s Don Quixote who really stole the show for me. I was actually in awe to discover at the end that the title role was played by a relatively young soloist and not a veteran of the stage. Simon has a truly unique gift to convey both emotional depth and story. His interpretation of this rich and important character felt like his own, rather than a reproduction of a past artist’s, and this made him the only aspect of this production to truly exceed my expectations.

This year marks 75 years since Nureyev’s birth and 20 years since his untimely death. Don Quixote, with all its colour, flamboyance and happy energy is such a positive tribute to this magnificent artist.

Photo: Lana Jones and Daniel Gaudiello of The Australian Ballet in Don Quixote. Photography Georges Antoni. Make up by Napoleon Perdis

Arts Centre Melbourne, State Theatre
September 19 2012

By Tamara Searle.

‘The most we can ask of any revival is that it not embarrass history too much’
Arlene Croce. Critic from The Past is Prologue.

The Australian Ballet presents the premiere of a version of Swan Lake by resident choreographer Stephen Baynes. It takes a certain combination of maturity and creative vision to choreograph a version of the hyperbole that is Swan Lake. Over decades we have witnessed Baynes’ creative vision in his new works for the Australian Ballet. Baynes has created masterpieces of symbolism with dazzling, daring do, swooping twists and languid bodies tying in knots that then unravel. He is an expert at choreographing from the score. We hear new things in the music watching Baynes’ interpretation of classical scores. Taking on Tchaikovsky seems like it would be possible for few other than Baynes, and it’s not his first full length creation on The Australian Ballet, so he has maturity as a choreographer.  Nevertheless, this production of Swan Lake lacked the audacity necessary to reinvent a classic for a contemporary context.

In the program notes Baynes states that it was his intention to create a new version of a traditional production of Swan Lake that would offer an alternative in the repertoire to The Australian Ballet’s Graeme Murphy production. Leaving aside the fact that to create a new version that is a traditional production is oxymoronic, Baynes states there was no question that the Act 2 choreography should remain as the original Marius Petipa work. And yet, he does not go on to say why some choreography should remain the same and not other sections. Certainly the Petipa choreography is iconic; the first entrance of the white swan is inscribed in ballet goers’ imaginations, audiences love the sublime order of the corps de ballet in Act 2, the great exultation of the Act 2 pas de deux, the virtuosity of the Act 3 pas de deux, and the tragic conclusion of great romantic love in Act 4. But why bother remaking any of it, if not all of it?

It is the court scenes of Act 1 and 3 in which Baynes has sought his most substantial revisions and created new choreography. Here Baynes’ trademark lyricism injected into the court scenes doesn’t allow a juxtaposition between the dispassion of the court and the lyricism of the swans. The traditional choreography mostly sits awkwardly with Baynes’ revisions, neither illuminating the other, but making both uncomfortable bedfellows. The fourth act provided glimpses of what might have taken flight had a greater risk been taken. In Act 4 Baynes choreographed the swans at length, rarely referring to the Petipa choreography. Here in the yearning of the swans against the will of von Rothbart we saw Baynes begin to transcend previous productions.

Briefly the traditional story is that of a woman, Odette, who has a spell cast on her by the villain von Rothbart, to remain a swan unless someone vows to marry her for her. Siegfried falls in love with the swan woman Odette, but is deceived into declaring his love for another, von Rothbart’s daughter Odile, so Odette is condemned to life as a swan, or death.

Baynes’ Swan Lake opens (sadly without an overture; the discarding of a convention that provides for the audience a bridge to the other world) with the Prince having a memory of unhappiness in childhood over the death of his father.  This production attempts narratives of psychological realism for the characters of the Prince and his Mother. The unhappy fate of Prince Siegfried remains a theme across the ballet. Baynes returns to Siegfried’s fate, rather than Odette’s fate, as a central narrative thread. In Baynes’ production, von Rothbart’s entrance with Odile is re-imagined as the entrance into the court of a gang of gothic new romantics, ready to seduce and deceive the Prince into declaring his love for one other than Odette. Baynes has shifted the divertissement Spanish dancers in Act 3 to become gypsies in Von Rothbart’s company.  In a somewhat strange addition the Queen is also seduced by exotics from von Rothbart’s consort. But when von Rothbart mimes playing the violin as part of the mechanisms of seduction, the action becomes comic. If the love story and tragedy of Siegfried and Odette is to be felt by the audience, it requires a real villain, not a parody. And so these narrative turns run into trouble. Siegfried, Odette and Odile, and the Queen are epic heroes, and Swan Lake is an archetypal fairytale, a myth which lives in symbolism, not in the domain of realism. Attempts to infuse it with realism only reveal the insubstantiality of the story.

The performances by The Australian Ballet dancers on the evening of the 19^th of September proved their technique.  Notable dancers were Lisa Bolte as the Queen Mother and Chengwo Guo as Benno, who both interpreted their roles with artistry and intelligence.

This production of Swan Lake by The Australian Ballet is a re-staging rather than a display of new choreography, a remix rather than a reinvention. Of course there is no one true Swan Lake possible, there are only ever versions. This version attempts to find new narratives within the fairytale, without enough interrogation of their thought line. The residual question is what prompted Baynes to work with the material of Swan Lake, leaving so many sequences untouched, cobbling together an unfulfilled patchwork, when he could be creating entirely original masterpieces? Of course the box office generated by presenting a traditional Swan Lake, over a new work, is a likely consideration.

Photo: The Australian Ballet’s Ty King-Wall and Amber Scott in Swan Lake. Photo by Georges Antoni

By Rain Francis.

State Theatre, Arts Centre Melbourne
July 2012

The Producers is everything a good musical comedy should be: camp, over-the-top and loads of fun. I had the pleasure of going to the The Production Company’s staging of it with no expectations to speak of; I had no prior knowledge of the show, or of either version of the movie. Later that evening, had you been at my place you would have found me having my own little youTube party, looking up clips of various renderings and singing along. Sad as this image may be, it’s a measure of how much I enjoyed the show.

It seems fellow audience members agreed, if the standing ovation was anything to go by. I find eavesdropping to be an effective tool for review writing, and on this occasion I was awarded with a corker; one of my fellows named Wayne Scott Kermond as “the best Max” Bialystock he had ever seen. Armed with my new youTube party research, I concur: Kermond did a fantastic job of the role.

In fact, the entire cast was great. When Christie Whelan was on stage, it was hard to look anywhere else; she really gave it her all as the sweet and sexy Swede, Ulla. Brent Hill was suitably nervous and awkward as the timid accountant, Leo Bloom. It’s not hard to see why this WAAPA graduate won a Green Room Award last year.

Rising star of stage and screen Virginia Gay made several cameo appearances, my favourites being the randy geriatric Hold-me Touch-me, and the butch-as-you-like Shirley. The variety of roles were evidently great fun to play, and Gay embodied each with a unique physicality, embellished with flawless comic timing.

However, it was Rohan Browne, as the uber-flamboyant Carmen Ghia, who stole the show. Here is an actor who really embraced his role, not just sketching it out but painting in a fabulous rainbow of colours, then sticking some feathers and glittery stuff on for added flourish. Right down to the movements of his fingers, Browne was utterly committed and entirely hilarious.

Carmen’s main scene, titled The Living Room of Renowned Theatrical Director Roger De Bris’ Elegant Upper East Side Townhouse on a Sunny Tuesday Afternoon in June, was the highlight of Act One. The number Keep it Gay was super indulgent and brimming with deliciously realised stereotypes; the costume designer, the choreographer, the musical director and the lighting designer.

You have to hand it to The Production Company: producing shows this good with only two weeks’ rehearsal is pretty incredible. I’m looking forward to their production of Chess, which comes to the Arts Centre this month. Now, back to youTube…

Photo: Christie Whelan, Wayne Scott Kermond, Brent Hill in The Producers. Photo by Jeff Busby

By Rain Francis.

State Theatre
June 9, 2012

The best dance companies from all over the country assembled at Arts Centre Melbourne for The Australian Ballet’s 50^th anniversary gala, and it was an absolute treat. The variety of offerings truly showcased the depth and breadth of artistry nationwide; there really was something for every audience member – unless your thing is tutus, because there wasn’t one in sight.

The evening kicked off with the West Australian Ballet’s, Ombra Leggera, choreographed by Artistic Director Ivan Cavallari. It was performed by Daryl Brandwood and Andre Santos, two very different dancers who worked together beautifully. Quick, playful and a bit cheeky, this light-hearted duet was a superb display of technique.

By contrast, Don’t by Brisbane’s Expressions Dance Company was dark and powerful; an “exploration of the emotional power of words”. Dramatically lit and costumed in monochrome, it depicted three couples and their struggles to communicate. From the opening solo under a dappled spotlight, to the electrifying partner work, Don’t was engaging from start to finish.

Tasdance presented a short film, Momentary by choreographer Anna Smith. I was excited to see this offering from our friends across the Strait, although this perhaps wasn’t the best setting for the film. It was hypnotic and mysterious, but I think some quality was lost somewhere along the way – projecting onto the big screen did not seem to do it any justice.

Unsurprisingly, it was Australian Dance Theatre that brought the most innovative present to the party. They performed an excerpt of Be Your Self – an exploration of the human body and the concept of the ‘self’. Whatever combination of methodologies they are getting into over in Adelaide these days, it is a winning one – these performers are verging on superhuman. Having now seen two excerpts of this incredible work on the State Theatre stage, I hope Melbourne will be honoured with the full shebang sometime soon.

Dancenorth presented a brand new work, Fugue, choreographed by Artistic Director Raewyn Hill.   Inspired by Spanish bullfighting and the “dancing plague” of 1518 (where people allegedly danced themselves to death), Hill set out to “embody both a feeling of relentless and a communal experience.” This was achieved through the use of unison; the cast of eight moved in a constant swarm – which is no mean feat, especially in a piece so athletically challenging. The Sass & Bide costuming, although glamorous, seemed to swallow the dancers up and detracted from the intricacy of the movement. Ravel’s masterpiece Bolero, with its gradually building energy and repetitive structure was a fine choice to express the themes of the dance.

Another high point of the evening was Queensland Ballet’s excerpts from Cloudland, choreographed by Artistic Director Francois Klaus. The two pas de deux were performed flawlessly by Rachael Walsh and Keian Langdon, to Almost Like Being in Love and No Moon At All. Normally not a fan of choreography to music with lyrics, I was not bothered in this case, perhaps because I was swept up in the romance and pure beauty of the dance.

An excerpt from Rafael Bonachela’s 2 One Another, Sydney Dance Company’s contribution to the programme was, as expected, technically exquisite. The work explored human interaction, although the stimulus had been abstracted to a point where this fact became largely unrecognisable. Still, the combination of phenomenal dancers, innovative choreography, powerful music and beautiful costumes, lighting and staging made this another winner from Sydney Dance Company.

Tim Harbour’s new work for The Australian Ballet, Sweedeedee, painted a sentimental picture of a family. It was performed with grace and charm by beloved former Principal Artists, Justine Summers and Stephen Heathcote, as well as two Australian Ballet School students, Lennox Niven and Mia Heathcote, Stephen’s daughter. The stage was set (by Benjamin Cisterne) with an oversized washing line complete with white sheets, which were worked effectively into the choreography. Harbour’s movement in this piece was refreshingly uncomplicated, with clean lines and a gentle pace. Funny, sad and sweet, the stories it told were enriched by folk songs played live, with the Musical Direction of Chong Lim. Lexi George’s costumes were a standout, as was the magnificent lighting by Cisterne.

In his programme note, Artistic Director David McAllister cited David Bowie as the inspiration for the naming of this gala. Let’s Dance confirmed that dance is very much alive and well in this country. And judging by the spectrum of creativity and skill in the industry, it seems that Australian dance is set, like Mr. Bowie, to continue to reinvent itself, and only get better with age.

Top photo: Sydney Dance Company presents 2 One Another.

State Theatre, Melbourne
February 3

By Paul Ransom

Rarely has an evening at the theatre been so thoroughly provocative. Mulan is nothing if not intriguing.

The positives are obvious as the stage abounds with all manner of acrobatic wizardry. Spectacular, athletic, intensely technical tricks are performed with high tempo martial precision; and all to a resounding soundtrack. The lighting effects are subtle and often quite beautiful, the costumes bold and colourful and the heroic set simple in all its constructivist glory. Accordingly, the audience clapped along and gasped in time.

But – and it’s a big but – you can’t help but wonder what all this somersaulting showiness is for. Before long it becomes clear that Mulan represents the victory of spectacle over content. Sure, director Wang Yafei and her well drilled troupe have based this supposed ‘tale’ around an ancient Chinese myth but what shines out is not the story of a young girl joining the army in place of her father but a kind of overbearing triumphalism.

Mulan celebrates militarism and militancy. It places technical perfection above individual expression and unashamedly shows off the power of the State. If this show had originated in North Korea we would all be gasping in horror at the hubris of a mad dictatorship rather than applauding the leaps and bounds of the obviously brilliant acrobats. Stalin would have loved it.

A very smart Roman once suggested that the key to everlasting power was bread and circuses; and this show is the modern Beijing equivalent -party approved and ready to take your mind off the fact that granny just got shipped off to the gulag.

In addition to celebrating the infinite glory of the Dear Leader, Mulan is also a veritable mountain of corn. It’s like McChina: a flashy, spangly Communist Party cheeseburger. I mean, really – baton juggling? Haven’t we all seen dreadlocked hippies doing that?

Interestingly, when the curtain finally came down the applause was … well, kinda five and a half out of ten. Seems it wasn’t just me who found all this spectacle hollow. Sorry Emperor, but it looks like we’re not all about to join your glorious, all conquering army.

Phew.