- Details
-
Category: Reviews
-
Published: Wednesday, 14 March 2012 01:52
-
Written by Chantal Guevara
{plgMFV}
Ivan Putrov's first Men In Motion programme was a success for the wrong reasons. Ticket sales had been sluggish until the shock news of co-star Sergei Polunin's impromptu resignation from the Royal Ballet on 24th January, three days before the opening night, after which the remaining tickets sold rapidly in order to see what was being billed as potentially Polunin's last performance. Men In Motion was intended to be a showcase of male ballet dancers over the past century, and a showcase for Putrov's nascent skills as producer and choreographer - which might have worked better had several of his dancers, and therefore part of the programme, not been lost due to visa problems. Instead, audiences flocked to see Sergei Polunin, and were left awed by Daniel Proietto in Russell Maliphant's Afterlight.
The new Men In Motion programme was announced barely a month afterwards, and Putrov seems to have shifted his focus towards modern dance and only skimmed over seminal ballet roles. Polunin has been given star billing too, although the exciting news that he would be presenting a choreographed by himself was weakened somewhat by the news that his former colleague from the Royal Ballet, Valentino Zuchetti, was choreographing it for him.
The programme opened with Nijinsky's L'Après-midi d'un faune, and with Polunin in the iconic pose on top of a rock in front of an elaborate backdrop. L'Apres-midi d'un faune was Nijinsky's first attempt at choreography, and it could be compared to a work by a fledgling choreographer in an experimental phase: his tableau-based style, which sees his dancers slowly transitioning from one frieze to another with little movement in between, seems more at home in the world of physical theatre than in dance. Polunin portrays the faun's otherwordliness adequately, locked in a battle of wills with Elena Glurdjize's seductive nymph. In the final scene, Polunin, lying on top of Glurdjize's scarf, arches up in ecstasy: a more family-friendly adaptation of the piece's original ending.
The second work of the night was a solo originally created for a 2010 gala in Athens for Royal Danish Ballet's Tim Matiakis. It was choreographed by Jorma Elo, a fast-rising modern ballet choreographer who is highly sought after, but his works are sometime tepidly received. Round About Tim appeared to be a virtuosic yet quirky solo, a showcase for any male ballet dancer with interesting motifs as though to make it more than just another virtuosic role, for example numerous near-attacks by Matiakis's own hand.
Vestris, by Leonid Jacobson, is a piece which would benefit greatly from programme notes. The only information offered is that it was premiered at the International Ballet Competition in Moscow 1969; on the Sadler's Wells website, we're told that it was created specifically for Mikhail Baryshnikov and his unique talents. The solo appears to be more about enacting different characters and distinguishing between them than heavy dancing; Putrov plays the role well, demonstrating his acting range and his comic timing. In the opening scenes, we see him in a princelike role, welcoming guests, then abruptly turning into a Norse god, hurling thunderbolts at all and sundry. It's possible that he's enacting the Seven Ages of Man - but it's not clear where Norse gods fit into those.
The opening scene of Tim Rushton's Dying Swan resembles the results of a pillow fight in a disco, with an enormous heap of feathers dimly-lit by colourful lights. As the music starts, Andrew Bowman, bare-chested, throws the feathers into the air. This is a haunting solo, accentuated by the gracefulness of Bowman's dancing, as we see his arms moving as though trying to fly or trying to close. In other versions of Dying Swan, the Swan is portrayed as weakening and near death, but Bowman's Swan remains powerful and strong till the end, when we see him in a crucified pose.
Reprised from Men In Motion 1, the final piece of the first section was Narcisse by Kasian Goleizovsky, originally created for Vaslav Vasiliev. When it was performed in January, Polunin seemed to relish the high leaps and turns, as though reminding the Royal Ballet of what they had lost; Narcisse seemed to have lost a little of its impact over the last two months. Again, Polunin represents an otherwordly figure, dazzling us with his talents: leaping, turning, playing a flute, growing increasingly desperate until he is dazzled by his own reflection and weakens. Narcisse is a piece which reminds us of Polunin's extraordinary talent - and the potential for it to go to waste.
The first half of the programme seemed lightweight compared to the second half, with works by Russell Maliphant and Nacho Duato, and Sergei Polunin's new solo based on James Dean.
Two x Two by Russell Maliphant is a duet for Dana Fouras and Jesse Kovarsky (originally performed by the sublime Daniel Proietto) in which both are lost in their own worlds, beginning with slow deliberate poise as they lift and lower their arms, then picking up speed, with their bodies shifting more until their movements become more expansive, using the movement of their whole bodies while standing, kneeling, leaning over as they continue to swing their arms. It's a compelling work, emphasised by the hypnotic effect of the dancers, along with dim lighting and atmospheric music.
James Dean, choreographed by Valentino Zucchetti for Sergei Polunin, is the main draw of the evening, and the opening scene doesn't disappoint, with Polunin slouched in a chair, wearing Dean's trademark jeans and white tshirt, and a dark jacket which he drapes over the back of a chair to represent his father.
Through a dizzyingly virtuosic solo, Polunin portrays an anguished, troubled adolescent, remonstrating with his father without success. There are nice little devices - Polunin jumps while his thumbs are hooked in his pockets; occasional glimpses of the James Dean we all know and love. The solo is over-melodramatic, but Polunin's dancing is so very fine as he tries to reason with his father before running off, to his death.
Both the contemporary dance and ballet worlds were shocked in August 2010 when it was announced that Nacho Duato would be leaving the contemporary dance world and moving to Russia to lead the Mihailovsky Ballet. Remanso is one of his best-loved works, but distinctively contemporary in style, and we could see Putrov struggling slightly, lacking the requisite fluidity of the other two dancers. Remanso, a work for three men, is absolutely beautiful to watch; Duato doesn't need to display men as butch or virtuosic, but instead allows them to be graceful yet strong, for example Putrov reaching across a screen in repose. The by-play between the dancers is entertaining, particularly the way that they use each other to assist in their movement, whether it's Putrov climbing up Clyde Archer's leg, or later using his Achilles tendons as a springboard. There's also the unforgettable sight of Putrov dancing with a rose in his mouth. The beauty of Remanso is in how Duato makes his dancers move, and you don't want the piece to end.
One reason to watch mixed bills is to learn about different choreographers and their works; this programme clearly tells us to watch as much Nacho Duato, Tim Rushton and Russell Maliphant as possible. And given that Ivan Putrov seems to have taken Sergei Polunin under his wing, how long will it be till the next Men In Motion, and what roles will Polunin tackle in future programmes? We can only wait and see.
- Details
-
Category: Blogs
-
Published: Tuesday, 13 March 2012 13:29
-
Written by Lewis Wheeler
Multithumb found errors on this page:
There was a problem loading image http://www.cloud-dance-festival.org.uk/plugins/editors/artofeditor/plugins/smiley/images/wink_smile.gif
There was a problem loading image http://www.cloud-dance-festival.org.uk/plugins/editors/artofeditor/plugins/smiley/images/wink_smile.gif
My first performance on my dance degree course is fast approaching (2 weeks today!), and last night at Uni we started to work on the structure of the piece which has developed from the improvisation exercises we have been working on in our choreography module.
I've always had a fairly conflicted opinion of improvisation tasks. When I first began my training at Coventry, we had a weekly lecture on improvisation for the entire year working from early solo tasks and culminating in a giant Contact Improvisation Jam at the end of the year with all 3 year groups involved (and chocolate being thrown in too, I seem to remember!).
I was very uncomfortable with the improvisation process for a long time. I can find it very difficult to move beyond my inhibitions when I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing and although the classes were very well structured it took me a long time to get past this. However, as I became more familiar with the process I started to enjoy the tasks more and when we moved onto working in Contact Improvisation I couldn't get enough of it.
Restarting my dance training now (a good few years later), a lot of my inhibitions have returned. In one workshop, based on Isadora Duncan's work, I just froze completely at the point where we were set the most 'free' to run around and play with the silk scarves. I have since made a resolution to just 'go with it completely' in any situation like that and to see what comes of it. I know that from the outside looking in on improvisation that the audience isn't judgemental and that it is the people who most fully engage with the improvisation score that become the most watchable. The confronting your fears by attacking them approach.
Back at Coventry I did, however, very much believe that improvisation was a tool that was invaluable in a workshop environment but that wasn't particularly interesting as a performance tool. I remember watching a piece of improvised music and dance but not being particularly engaged by it. Although at that time, and also currently but this is starting to change, my tastes in dance lean more towards the dance theatre genre and I like expression, narrative forms and character.
Since studying choreology at Birkbeck, however, I feel like my eyes have been opened to how dance itself communicates. Previously my reading of a piece was certainly affected by the movement content but I would have struggled to explain why and the more abstract it was the less I would engage with it generally. Now my brain is more capable of interpreting the movement content itself i.e. the arm is moving continuously and then there is an impulse in its rhythm - why is that happening, how does that affect the piece overall? When I watched Matthew Bourne's Nutcracker! recently, despite being an avid fan of his work normally, I was disappointed in what I perceived as a lack of 'dance' in the piece (as opposed to mimed sequences). I know that he himself says that he is not the choreographer to look to for dance for dance's sake and I wouldn't want to judge his work on that basis, it just didn't reflect what I was looking for at the time.
The piece that we are creating for our performance (Friday March 23rd @ The Place 
) is based on an improvisational structure and is very much pure dance. As I said before this type of work wouldn't normally engage me but with my now more open mind and more sophisticated viewing of dance I am able to see the opportunities in this type of work. Last night we were set the improvisation score and we danced it for 45 minutes continuously. Incredibly it only felt like 10 - 15 minutes and our course tutor and course co-ordinator watched the whole thing and they also said that it was so engaging that they didn't notice the time passing either. The parameters of the score mean that frequently encounters happen between us as dancers and we have a logic to follow that makes our actions affect the other dancer. Either one of us will have to move away from the other person or, as we can only travel parallel to the audience across the stage we can become trapped in between two other dancers. The variety of ways these encounters can play out are incredibly rich and as we have the option of being very stubborn and imposing our will upon the other dancers the dramatic tension can reach very high levels. It is the various natures of these encounters and our solo journeys that inspired our tutor, Eva Recacha, to name the piece Wanting and wishing.
As a choreography student the piece is especially useful because we get to be both performer and director of the work. If while performing I feel that the piece could do with a radical change at any particular moment I can introduce a completely different dynamic. Alternatively I can blend in with other actions already happening in the space and develop those. Very quickly our group become just as focussed on the listening as on the performing and it was this blend that kept the piece interesting and prevented it from becoming self-indulgent because we always kept in mind the perspective of the outsider and how engaging what was happening was.
I had been thinking recently that one of the main reasons for the use of solo work and improvisation techniques in choreography workshops was simply because it is easier to work with a group this way. I'm glad that I've decided to stop being so cynical, trust my teachers and to fully embrace the tasks as I can see now how rich this practice is. I think the piece of advice we received that helped me make the most sense of it was that improvising isn't about not knowing what you're doing - instead it is to know exactly what you are doing in the moment but to be completely open minded about what you are going to do next.
Next week I'm going to be writing about the 4 workshops with Frantic Assembly that I'll have just completed. They're such an interesting company and I can't wait to share with you what we've been up to.
Lewis x
