Theatre Royal Sydney
January 17-23 2013
As part of Sydney Festival

By Lynne Lancaster.

It would be hard to find a more powerfully explosive show celebrating the sheer exuberance and joy of dancing. Hotly anticipated Fabulous Beast, under the excellent direction of Michael Keegan-Dolan, returned to Sydney for Sydney Festival and brought us their tremendous Rian, which means ‘trace’ or ‘mark’ in Irish Gaelic.  

Musically, under the energetic direction of Liam O Maonlai (a founding member of the band Hothouse Flowers), there is everything from amplified harp, piano, piccolo, drums, violin, and assorted pipes to percussion, all tremendously played and full of infectious toe-tapping rhythm. Traditional tunes are melded with original composition and the inventive use of sometimes unusual instrumentation. The show becomes a cross between concert and ceilidh.

Sabine Dargent’s set is a curved green amphitheatre, similar to that found in Irish pubs, with a raised platform on which seats and most of the musical instruments are arranged. The cast sit on the chairs when not performing and watch their colleagues.

Fabulous Beast present ‘Rian’. Photos by Jamie Williams.

The lighting is relatively minimal, but at a couple of points there is very effective use of shadows cast moodily on the backdrop.

The work is plot-less, yet full of the boundless joy of dance and energy of movement. The incredible dancers seem boneless and inexhaustible. From the opening, with the traditional Irish harp, we are reminded of the company’s roots. There is not only emphasis on Celtic/Gaelic themes but a melding of Flamenco, African and Indian influences, plus hints of a ballet base. There is much unison work, and a lot of repeated phrases of movement. Keegan-Dolan seems to favour a feeling of vertical, circular movement. There is also rolling floor work. Apparently there are 108 different sorts of movement used in the show!   

In one dance the men perform reaping-like movements while the women do little shakes of the shoulders combined with isolation movements of the torso. There is one section (possibly Pina Bausch inspired) where to an infectious, yet seemingly soporific uilleann pipes rhythm, the whole cast in a row of chairs, front centre, go into a dreamlike trance in their own worlds and start drifting. The audience love it. The dance is organically incorporated with the music with springy rocking, stamping steps that swing low, yet are simultaneously high-stepping. There are soft jumps with hands like stars. 

O Maonlai has a couple of featured solos as does magnificent Eithne Ni Chathain, who in her show stopping solo is eventually joined by the four female dancers who become twisting, swaying trees with uplifted arms.

There is also a teasing duet for a male and female dancer that becomes a fun zigzagging chase. And the fragile, tender atmosphere when a man and a woman hesitantly touch, at first hand to hand then back to back with outstretched arms.  Melancholy short solos are contrasted with high energy jigs.

There is a marked change from the rather formal, stiff opening with hot suits and enclosed socks and shoes, to the hot, sweaty, barefoot, breathless ending with jackets discarded and shirts undone.

Enthralling stuff and a major highlight of this year’s Festival.

West Side Story with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra

Sydney Opera House
27 January 2012
As part of Sydney Festival

By Elizabeth Ashley.

The iconic film West Side Story, with its musical interpretation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, is seen as one of the greatest film musicals, winning an unsurpassed 10 Academy awards in 1961.  Central to the film’s success is the interplay of Leonard Bernstein’s music and the brilliance of Jerome Robbins’ choreography.

In an attempt to highlight these two elements, West Side Story was screened to the live music of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra this Sydney Festival. It was a collaboration which drew attention to the film’s musical vibrancy and conveyed an immediacy that can seem lacking in the film.

Part of the collaborative process required the original film to undergo technological surgery, digitally deleting the musical score whilst retaining the singing and speaking voices. Ensuring success would demand perfect synchronisation of the present music and past film. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra, led by Hollywood’s David Newman, achieved this feat whilst interpreting the music.  Newman recognised the risks involved, “You feel like you are on a tightrope going step by step from A to B to C to D.”

Emerging in the Sydney Opera House Concert hall was the vividness of the score and an appreciation of the musicians’ performances as one could hear and see them toiling onstage to give life to the musical.  A disconcerting aspect was the feeling that the orchestra could reach across time and space to cue the actors to their present performance.

But while we can say that Bernstein’s score benefited from this deconstruction and reconstruction how did Robbins’ choreography fare?

Remastering the score drew our attention to Jerome Robbins’ continuing relevance to a new generation of dancers and audience. Robbins’ capacity to convey an emerging urban energy through combining the discipline of ballet with the social and racial tensions of a modern city underlines the film’s iconic dance scenes.  There is no mistaking Robbins’ influence in such movies as The Warriors and the music video of Michael Jackson’s Beat it which strongly quote Robbins’ vision of urban America.

West Side Story also highlights Robbins’ ability to bring a classical ballet sensibility to the production, freeing it from the usual confines of stage and studio and allowing it to explode and expand onto the streets of New York – a city that he loved.  While other choreographers may be content to convey the city on a stage, Robbins’ determination to place dance squarely in the cityscape resulted in a transformation of the balletic body as it interacts and attempts to circumvent the concrete and steel environment of NYC.

This vision of the street may seem quaint and somewhat at odds with our contemporary sensibility, but with West Side Story we have the opportunity to experience one of the earlier versions of street dance.  Dances such as Cool are capable of capturing all the tension of territorial urban posturing and yet remain unencumbered by the earthbound, technologically distracted manner of much contemporary dance.  The raw energy of the urban street conveyed in Robbins’ choreography is in many ways purer in its roots to classical dance and also much more innocent in its vision.

The film’s costumes and general aesthetic is saturated with the American pop culture that reflected the country’s post-war prosperity of the 1950’s. It suggests a time when the dance world was more integrated and reflective of the wider cultural atmosphere. West Side Story was an opportunity for Robbins to comment on the very real inter-racial gang wars that were ravaging NYC at this time.

From a 21^st century perspective that has been saturated with American urban culture in its music, dance and fashion, the movie’s innocence can seem out of touch and jarring to younger generations. Particularly the almost all white “Caribbean” cast with their fake tans.  One also gets the impression that Robbins’ interpretation of Puerto Rican street dance is closer to a Spanish interpretation of the ballet Carmen rather than Afro-Latin folkloric forms that rule the streets.

Nevertheless this retrospective exercise, with its combination of resonating energy and synchronisation, allowed the audience to suspend disbelief and be transported back in time to experience Bernstein and Robbins afresh. The synergy of past and present masters enthralled and inspired.

Photo source: www.moviesoddity.com/20-best-new-york-movies/

Seymour Centre, The University of Sydney
January 2012
As part of Sydney Festival

By Linda Badger.

Set in what could be the tiny and obscure boxing gyms of backyard Scotland, Frantic Assembly and the National Theatre of Scotland brought their mesmerising physical theatre production of Beautiful Burnout to Sydney Festival.  

The atmosphere was set as we entered the theatre with trance-like electro music preparing the audience for what would be a very confronting journey; a journey through the intense psychology of the sport of boxing…the highs, the lows, the struggles and the wins.  With a stage almost in the round, interchangeable parts and a set you could hang off, this was sure to be a winner. 

However, even though the show boasted some incredibly phenomenal moments, these were juxtaposed by elements that were fairly average. There was a real contrast in presentation.  There were few standout performance moments, notably one by lead character ‘Cameron Burns’ (Kevin Guthrie), highlighting in the closing moments the physicality of his portrayal of the effects of an horrific boxing injury. This scene completely drew me in.  I can’t say there were many other moments like this though, which was not helped by a fairly under developed storyline.  There were snippets of how this world of boxing affects the people involved, their relationships and their worldview.  However, they were only snippets, with immature character and story development for all the ‘cans of worms’ that were opened.  There was neither lead up nor follow through, leaving us wondering why things were revealed but not validated. Each moment could have been interweaved throughout the story and resolved or unfolded, but instead they left us dry.

Choreographically there were a few really interesting moments. The movement was geared towards the non-dance audience. The choreography was very simplistic and literal. It was not an attempt at being too artistically clever or abstract, and was geared completely towards the characters.  The actors embraced this so well that we were not distracted by portions of technical dance movement. Each character was at the forefront of these moments, not giving us the impression that we were watching a jazzed up ‘dance break’, which was no easy feat for the performers.   

The soundtrack mostly consisted of electro and mood music, written by Underworld, who are long term collaborators with Frantic Assembly.  Structurally the work went from dialogue, to monologue, to movement, in a fairly repetitive pattern interjected with random moments such as characters hanging of the back drop having a casual conversation.  Not exploring much outside of this, the work seemed a little un-inventive.

All in all, the formula for this kind of production has been done and done, so it would be nice to see this piece developed further, with more room for some of the juicier parts of the story, and exploring less typical choices of soundtrack and structure.  It was enjoyable to watch nonetheless, with an intriguing subject matter. However, I believe the potential for this work has yet to be reached. Beautiful Burnout is still one to go and watch if you enjoy physical theatre.

Top photo: Beautiful Burnout by the National Theatre of Scotland and Frantic Assembly. Photo by Gavin Evans.

City Recital Hall, Angel Place
January 2012
As part of Sydney Festival

By Elizabeth Ashley. 

Chunky Move with Artistic Director Gideon Obarzanek participated in the Sydney Festival 2012 with Assembly – a work exploring the dynamics of crowds in everyday life. Obarzanek’s fascination with ‘spatial and moving patterns’ is creatively worked through on a set of steep stairs, mirroring the sloped seating of the watching audience so that we come face to face with the facets and behaviour of various crowds.

While crowds in their various shapes and forms may be an unavoidable part of modern life, Obarzanek reminds us of their intricacies, uniqueness and creative force. Assembly, as the name of the work, reflects the vision to assemble something en masse that transcends our individuality. Obarzanek’s assembly of various dancers and choristers, integrating voices and movement into a harmonious whole is the highlight of this work.

Dancers from Chunky Move collaborate with singers from the Sydney Philharmonia choirs to explore the way a crowd affects individuals as well as creating a life of its own.

Unexpectedly and refreshingly, Obarzanek does not delineate the dancers from the singers – the variety of ages, body types and ways of moving endears the audience to this ‘crowd’ and somehow includes us in the process.

As 60 performers climb the stairway, set to take their opening position, a question is nagging – “But where will the dancers dance?” Then they all start talking loudly, gesticulating as if they were all telling you their life story. It’s not until the mass separates and walks purposely in intricate and highly structured patterns up and down and across the structure that we realise the dancers are lost in the anonymity of the crowd.

Seamless integration of voice and body allows Assembly to explore the many types of crowds in modern life, from raucous football games to audience participation, to queuing, trend-following and the alienation of cityscape bustling. In this work the standout performance is no particular individual but the group entity itself.

The space is well-used and has the ability to show the depth and shape of crowds. We see the ebb and flow, creating an almost 3D effect. We no longer see the crowd as a chaotic mess but rather as one mass, constantly forming and reforming patterns as the individuals interact and disperse – an embodiment of a creative entity that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The choir must be applauded for their absolute commitment to their roles not as singers but as performers, executing phase-shifting sequences as well as rolling and slithering head-first down the stairs. Equally, the Chunky Move dancers handle the challenges of shoulder rolls and pas de deux sequences on a stairway with skilled control as well as performing percussive and resonating falls due to the pushing and shoving nature of crowds.

The combination of mass bodies in motion with voices singing in unison is a masterstroke of creative envisioning, allowing the work to capture the contradictory experience of the crowd or assembly.  The anonymity and earthbound nature of the dancing bodies is contrasted with the ethereal quality of the voices that suggest a juxtaposition of mind/matter and subjection/transcendence, as well as the themes of fragmentation and wholeness.

Assembly is an uplifting and refreshing collaboration that engages the audience, elicits laughter, spontaneous applause and recognition. Echoing a review from The Age, Assembly is “meditative, mesmerising and existential”, and extremely rewarding.

Photo by Jeff Busby.

Playhouse, Sydney Opera House
January 2012
As part of Sydney Festival

By Elizabeth Ashley

While Nijinsky’s L’Après Midi d’un Faune may be 100 years old this year, it still packs an inspirational punch for  choreographers, dancers and other performers.

The original performance premiered in a storm of scandalous success to a 1912 Parisian audience eager to see the iconic Ballet Russes.  To its detractors in the dance world Nijinsky was accused of being “anti-ballet” when he delivered a performance that attempted to strip ballet of its sentimentality and stressed instead a feral, instinctive and coldly sexual quality.

These qualities seem to be the inspiration for choreographer Martin del Amo as he worked with renowned dancer Paul White to create their Anatomy of an Afternoon. Underplaying the mythical and classical elements of the original work, del Amo emphasises the natural and the animal that is in the dance. Also in this work, the mythical aspect of the faun, a strange creature of half man half goat is replaced with a meditation on the potential qualities of an afternoon with its mix of languidity, frustration and possibility.

Paul White’s solo performance is a marvel of animal magnetism as he captures the inherent grace of various animals from upright cassowary-type bird to slithering lizard and underwater squid. The juxtaposition of effortless animalistic grace with human form creates an uncanny sense of mythological faun and the beast inherent in man.

Without narrative or emotion, White holds the audience spell-bound as he evokes the native life forms of a forest conveying the heightened sensitivity of an animal in response to its environment.  From the hypnotic head movements of a snake charming its master to a satisfied cat licking its paws, White effortlessly fascinates us with the centrality of the body in the natural world. 

At times this bodily love is shown in a joyful, undressed and yet aimless running, perhaps conveying the excess of Nijinsky’s Faun.  Yet del Amo and White’s work is objective, studied and appropriately named Anatomy. The body’s centrality is performed with all the strength and graceful control that is Paul White’s forte, but in contrast to the introversion and self-absorption of Nijinky’s Faun, this creature is very much outward-looking. He gazes intently at the audience, proudly rippling his muscular frame and teasing us with a barely-covered pair of animal glutes.

Martin Bradshaw’s eclectic music, played by a small ensemble, attempts to convey the ‘elusive nature of the afternoon’. While there is a strong sense of the longing inherent in an idyllic Queensland afternoon it seems a touch too insipid to convey the rhythmic essence of the wild body.  The sense and mood of an afternoon isn’t helped by Matthew Marshall’s light and design on a bare stage, which while beautiful, suggests more of a moonlit forest rather than a sunlit afternoon.

Anatomy of an Afternoon may not instigate the same controversy as its predecessor, but it does provide a timely reminder that much of what is graceful is centered on the feral, untamed body and instinct; and it can still hold us spellbound. The Faun of the 21st century reflects our increasing fascination and anxiety about our relationship with nature in its various forms.

Sydney Theatre
January 2012
As part of Sydney Festival

By Lynne Lancaster.

One of this Sydney Festival’s major events, Babel is a mesmerizing and enthralling piece that will leave you gasping.

Two of Europe’s hottest choreographers, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Damien Jalet, bring us an extraordinary company of eighteen dancers and musicians in a powerful, hypnotic, swirling maelstrom of searching for identity and culture.

The driving concept of the work is based on the Biblical story of the building of the Tower of Babel and how language (both spoken and physical) and body emerge as the hidden forces behind all human interaction.

The international language of ballet is French, but Cherkaoui and Jalet combine Western contemporary dance with different movement styles from around the world, including break dance, hip hop, ballet and martial arts in tandem with a haunting and thrilling eclectic soundtrack of rhythm and voice.

The incredible cast throw themselves into the work with amazing energy. Various sections are developed into a vivid chaos of multilingual chatter, with some of it funny and some quite angry. Simple acts are highlighted, like hanging out the washing while singing. At times the casts’ hands are like stars; there is violence but also much fragile, hesitant tenderness.

Highlights include an amazing performance by Ulrika Kinn Svennson. Sooty eyed and incredibly tall, she teeters along in knee high black boots as an exquisite robotic doll. There is a sequence where she is gleefully ‘inflated’ by two Japanese men and in another she acts as a multilingual customs/security guard at the airport.

In one section Darryl E. Woods enters like a conquering king and gives a biting tongue-in-cheek monologue on how the English language has dominated the world. Another sequence looks at mirror/motor neurons and the philosophy of connectedness. In another moment an erudite, philosophical Frenchman gradually becomes a Neanderthal like grunting caveman.

There is a topless, writhing, sculptural pas de deux and some most unusual male pas de deux, one in particular that is based on martial arts. There is a lot of energetic machismo, with the atmosphere at one point like a footy team celebrating. This is contrasted with a piece where after a stunning pas de deux one of the dancers is caught in a cell and unable to escape.

The score is a musical fusion of East and West, with interweaving Hindi beat, dramatic Kodo drumming and haunting lyrical medieval music including flute and harp.

Gormley’s timeless, fragile and versatile set of hardy silver metal frame cubes are at times reflective against the plain black scrim. The cubes interlock, tilt, slide and rotate allowing the cast to build the Tower of Babel.

A stunning, breathtaking analysis of the human condition and the need to communicate.

Photo by Koen Broos

Sydney Festival 2011
Sydney Theatre
January 26

 By Linda Badger

Entity by Wayne McGregor | Random Dance was challenging.  Having read so much on how McGregor is pushing the boundaries choreographically (in collaboration with not only his dancers but significant others such as scientists), his ideals and his use of technology, I expected so much more from this work. Difficult posture and speed of movement made it technically demanding for the dancers, but one could not read much beyond that.

It was refreshing to see costuming, lighting and set design that was relatively simple. It gave the dancers a chance to shine and allowed the choreography itself to complete the stage, which is something we don’t see much of these days.  It takes a talented choreographer not to rely on these elements to make the piece. 

The choreography was very reminiscent of the work coming out of many mainstream contemporary companies in Europe, displaying formal lines mixed with broken lines and changes in posture, but still requiring its dancers to be ballet dancers at the core.  The movement itself was very much based on traditional classical ballet and the long lines that the discipline requires.  McGregor himself is known for his lengthy limbs and his ability to be able to move with incredible speed despite their length. This was seen in his attempt to have his dancers move the same way.  There were some inspiring and beautiful moments in the choreography where the dancers really extended to the very nth degree, and then quickly moved on to a distortion of the shapes they had created. 

The strength and uniqueness of McGregor’s choreography seemed to come in the group moments. The whole company was on stage performing separate movements that in just moments became very connected.  It was special as we watched sparks of random connection.  I really enjoyed the group work.  I was left wanting to see more group choreography, and perhaps less duo or trios, as there was little or no meaningful or personal connection between the dancers, and when those interactions did occur, they did not seem to lead anywhere.

Despite the dancers’ wealth of training and experience, I found the overall technique lacking.  Some had beautiful technique, gorgeous feet (which is essential for very classical work) and physique.  Other dancers lacked in all three areas.  I felt that the company, although a contemporary company with dancers of all different strengths and personalities, was attempting work that would look much better on the classical companies McGregor is renowned for working with. 

McGregor has been appointed as the first contemporary resident choreographer for the Royal Ballet (with no formal classical training himself).  I am sure his work is going to see justice on the Royal Ballet dancers and the audience will see its fullest potential.  Entity was frustrating to watch as I could see what could have been achieved if the dancers were physically ready for the choreography.  It would be mesmerising to see this work on a truly classical company.

I felt that the male dancers’ portrayal of their roles was much too feminine at times, and quite distracting, leaving one wondering if there was a point to having the two separate genders in the company.  Male and female roles don’t need to be defined all the time, but the male dancers didn’t show their strength and individuality as males. The sensuality of the women was shown exquisitely.  It was a shame that the men fell under the same style at times. 

Overall the work was commendable, with some really nice partner work, lifts, physical shapes and interactions. I admire the dancers’ attack of such difficult choreography.  At times I was completely mesmerised, but at other times I wondered why interactions were happening or what McGregor was attempting to tell us. I have no doubt that opinions of the work varied across the audience.

Photos: Prudence Upton

Gavin Webber & Grayson Millwood
(Animal Farm Collective)

Sydney Festival 2011
Parramatta Riverside Theatres
January 22

By Linda Badger

Food Chain is a very interesting and humorous look at a role reversal of humans and animals.  It is a very David Attenborough-like look at humans through the eyes of animals.

The work centres around two bears (two men dressed very obviously as bears), and their observation of human interaction.  There are many different takes on this concept and all are very entertaining. It is a satirical look at the way we behave, and how we too could be categorised in the same way that we do animals. There are many layers of thought to digest within this piece and it says much to both the uneducated theatregoer and the career artist. 

Food Chain was created through an invitation from Physical Theatre Collective www.pvc-tanz.de of Germany to work with directors Webber and Millwood. The collaboration brought about a very unique and thought provoking show.  Just like previous works from the same directors (Lawn, Roadkill), they bring together a well written, humorous script and seamlessly blend it with dance, lighting, costume and set. All these elements have an equal role to play within the work, with not one element dominating. 

Although Food Chain has a very European flavour (with no nudity sensorship and some very sexual themes), it is also very relevant in its humour to an Australian audience, complete with beer drinking bears talking about the audience. They make the obvious more obvious and there is plenty of laughing at ourselves.

A mix between regular pace and slow motion, and turning the house lights on and off, confronts the audience, making them a little uncomfortable in their seats and encourages self reflection. This is very amusing.  The work literally includes the audience and breaks the 4^th wall, but beyond just that, it actually makes the audience completely aware of its own role in the show.

The performers’ skills are quite versatile and they are strong physically and emotionally. At the end of the play they find themselves continuously, slowly falling out of a tree (the centrepiece for the set). This is mesmerising, and it is at this moment that I as an audience member find myself very satisfied and settled – a definitely memorable performance.  

Food Chain is thoroughly entertaining. This work is not to be missed at this year’s Sydney Festival.

Photos: Prudence Upton

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