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Dance Umbrella: Nelisiwe Xaba/Mamela Nyamza

Tonight, The Place bought us another installment courtesy of Dance Umbrella in the form of two one-woman shows. The double bill consisted of Nelisiwe Xaba’s They Look at Me and That’s All They Think plus Mamela Nyamza’s Hatched, both performed by their choreographers. New and inspiring choreographic notions filled the Robin Howard Theatre, however, this wasn’t delivered without its downfalls.


I can only wish to write a trail of splendid praise for the first piece of the night, but frustratingly my thoughts were left rather deflated. This is in actual fact a bit of a nuisance as bundles of innovative ideas were placed neatly before the audience, but they remained unfinished while I could only dream of their potential. The first image was a curious one as Nelisiwe Xaba explored a flow of movement throughout the depths of her back and arms, crouched beside a step ladder refusing to reveal her face. Once we were introduced with the impact of her pre-hidden face, the night’s activities disappointedly progressed in a half-hearted fashion. The white, wired dress was certainly put to good use providing a ‘top half’ tent staging a playful yet lazy, brightly coloured leg routine, a screen which broadcasted self resembling, cartoon hair adverts, and a swinging light made for an effective three dimensional silhouette. Bouncy castles and accentuated ‘features’ were among the other uses the dress exhibited, alongside our choreographer wrapping herself in bubble wrap executing uncomfortable, random noises which were actually an interesting highlight of the piece.


The frustrating truth is that these wonderfully creative concepts failed to connect or develop in the slightest. A horribly slack use of lighting failed to assist in any way, and an imaginative choice of accompaniment including a comical rendition of The Pussycat Doll’s Don’t Cha, was unfortunately stuck on track after track in a CD player-like fashion. An overuse of fiddling and adjusting of costume and set in between things diminished the piece of any sort of flow and interest. The piece ‘refers to the story of Sara Baartman’ and how she is ‘considered as a symbol of the oppression of the African woman by colonialism and its zoo-like way of looking at Africans’ (see programme notes), which is notable amongst these chopped up interpretations, but a strong barrier is endured between choreographer and audience due to an uninviting self exploration.


Slightly concerned that the second piece Hatched was to follow in the first’s footsteps due to the similar lighting state and dropping of a washing line peg or two, I was quite relieved to find myself pleasantly surprised. As the lights gradually rose, a tasteful structure appears by means of a washing line hung right across the back of the space, a sea of red in the form of a tent encompassing a human, lamp and table, and a stunning figure, half-naked bearing a long skirt brambled in pegs. Faintly, traffic and sirens fill the air as the figure places a metal bucket upon her head, moving along the line in pointe shoes, all the while with her back turned. Rushing, yet humming, red clothes from the bucket are hung, dressing her top half somewhere along the line. The tent is also attached which leads to an exquisitely intense moment in which the figure slowly wraps herself in the mounds of material, unveiling a young boy doing his homework while classical music attentively attends to the scene. A beautiful array of red fabric has textured the stage and it is as though every image has been carefully selected.


The movement content proves to be an exciting watch as she switches from happy to sad, emotions pouring out of the frantic inner twitching that wobbles speedily through her body. At moments, her body as a whole is so beautifully quick that she is almost out of control yet so in control at the same time. Pegs collide as she jumps up and down in utter glee to then flop back into her depressive state, and the twitching progressively grows happier. In the way of trying on clothes and begging for a cigarette, repeatedly lighting a match, she is fighting with her emotions as the boy watches her quite unfazed. The only course of action carried out by the boy is the cleaning up of pegs, which really is all that is required to convey their touching relationship. Pointe shoes are off, an increase of clothing covers her as she twitches in a far more elated mode to native music, taking what seems to be her son by the hand to proceed with the bows: an unexpected yet attractive finish as the music continues.


Artistically stunning, Hatched has earned the third star of the night. While both pieces deal with social issues in an inventive way, They Look at Me and That’s All They Think struggled to communicate; there is some unfinished business here that was sadly not dealt with.

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In Conversation With Thiago Soares & Marianela Nuñez

One of the first words which come to mind while watching Marianela Nuñez dance is "magnificent"; that is, of course, unless she's smiling while dancing, in which case certain other words may well come to mind! Her performance in Glen Tetley's Voluntaries in June of this year was one of the most beautiful works of dance I've seen this year, while she was no less impressive in Kenneth MacMillan's Requiem in the recent Royal Ballet triple bill; incidentally, both were tributes to the same person, choreographer John Cranko. By contrast, I have yet to see Thiago Soares perform - I think.


Tonight's In Conversation with Marianela Nuñez and Thiago Soares had sold out before even Friends' Booking opened this spring; fortunately, a small number of tickets were released in the final two days.


Chaired by the Royal Ballet's Director-To-Be Kevin O'Hare, the first topic to be discussed was of course their recent wedding; they have been romantically involved since Thiago joined the Royal Ballet in 2002. Although Thiago proposed after a Sleeping Beauty in 2006, it has taken them until this summer to step back from the limelight and find the time to celebrate their wedding with their family and friends. They married in Buenos Aires, Argentina on 23 July, then travelled to Rio de Janeiro the following week to celebrate with Thiago's family. This has also been the first time in years that they have both been able to take the full five weeks' summer holiday, which meant that they could relax at length before returning to the Royal Ballet for the current season.


The first ballet to be discussed was Diamonds, from Balanchine's Jewels; Kevin O'Hare joked that it was Monica Mason's wedding present to them. Both Marianela and Thiago ("Thianela", as they're known on Twitter) enthused about how much they loved Diamonds, describing it as very natural to perform; the structure makes it very effortless and "delicious" to dance. Thiago's comment was "the guy was just a genius", while Marianela said that Diamonds "lets you feel like a ballerina".


We then explored their early careers, starting with Marianela. As the only daughter with two elder brothers, her mother was so delighted with her arrival that she was dressed head-to-toe in pink, and bundled off to general dance classes at age 3. At age 6, she decided that she wanted to focus exclusively on ballet - admitting that even as a child she was bossy, at which the audience erupted in laughter. She then talked about her life in the Teatro Colón Ballet School, which she entered at age 8: her life now consisted of ballet classes from 8am to 12pm then 7 to 10pm, not getting to bed until 1am daily; in between, she commuted to and from home, 45 minutes away, and continued with her schoolwork. At 14, she became the youngest dancer in the Teatro Colón, performing both corps and larger roles.


By the age of 12, she knew that she wanted to leave Argentina, as this would be necessary to further her career; at 15, she was urged to come to the UK, as this would give her the chance to grow as an artist. By way of auditioning, she took class with the Royal Ballet for a week, culminating in a solo in the final class, which was watched by Anthony Dowell dressed as Carabosse. Due to her age, however, she wouldn't be able to obtain a work permit, so she entered the Royal Ballet School for a year prior to joining the company; this year gave her the opportunity to adapt to her new country, learn the language, and focus on her dance training.


"By comparison", Kevin O'Hare said, "Thiago was on the beach". Thiago's brother was in a hip-hop dance group while he was growing up; wanting to be like his brother, he joined the group at age 12. But he also wanted to join the circus, so he enrolled in the local circus school. He discovered that he was very interested in everything to do with theatre, and especially acrobatics, but he felt that his heart wasn't in it, and he missed his hip-hop group.


At 14, his hip-hop choreographer suggested Thiago enrol in dance training, saying that he could see Thiago as a professional dancer. By that point, he had only ever seen ballet on TV, and was about to undertake jazz, contemporary dance and ballet classes for the first time. His teacher persuaded him to take daily ballet classes, and he soon started to love it, discovering that he was good at it. And of course, he loved the attention! He joined the Rio de Janeiro Municipal Theatre Ballet but after winning a gold medal at the Moscow International Ballet Competition, he joined the Kirov Ballet. Although this was a great opportunity for him, working with good teachers, and learning the choreography of leading roles - as he was frequently on standby for rehearsals when the male principal dancer was absent - his peers back in Brazil urged him to look elsewhere as this wasn't really viable for a long-term career. He joined the Royal Ballet a few months later.


One of Thiago's regular partners is Roberta Marquez, who he knew from his early days; there is some story about them performing Don Quixote together in a supermarket's garage!


Kevin O'Hare noticed that no Ashton ballets had been selected for this evening's discussion; Marianela talked about how much she loved Ashton's work, especially the musicality of his work and how he uses the upper body. She admitted that she'd been worried that she would be pigeonholed doing technical ballets only, and she has loved exploring becoming different characters in each ballet.


The final question of the evening wasn't a question as such, but more a tribute to Marianela's smile. Oh, that smile...........

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Richard Alston At Home

Richard Alston has been one of the artists featured in this year's Dance Umbrella, with a programme honouring over four decades' worth of his works, performed in the relative intimacy of The Place's Robin Howard Theatre. Instead of a retrospective of his works, the evening offers a look at his earliest works, and contrasts them with where his company is now, with the premiere of a beautiful new duet by Martin Lawrance.


The opening piece, Early Days, is a medley of his earliest works, dating back to 1968 when he was one of the first students to enrol at the newly-opened London Contemporary Dance School. The first three works were created at the start of his training: the first piece, Still Moving Still (1969) saw Elly Braund spinning around with a long metal pole balancing on her shoulderblade, accompanied by a shakuhachi. Something To Do, last performed at the UpClose/In The Round evening of Richard Alston's earlier works last year, saw Richard Alston himself narrating a poem by Getrude Stein, interspersed with a duet by Anneli Binder and Hannah Kidd, suggestive of a dialogue between the two dancers. Nowhere Slowly was a passionate solo performed by Nancy Nerantzi; this was a far more emotional work than we are used to seeing from Richard Alston, with her falling to the floor and performing with a feverish look in her eyes. Even from the beginning of Alston's career, we could see the hallmarks of his signature style with the use of clearly-defined lines and abstraction of movement. While one member of the audience muttered that there was "too much Cunningham in his work", these early pieces, predating his period of study at the Merce Cunningham Dance Studio, prove that his choreographic style had largely been defined even before he immersed himself in Cunningham technique.


Alston's Cunningham influence is most visible in the costumes used in 1977's Rainbow Bandit, with luridly-coloured costumes which could too-easily be mistaken for sportswear gone horribly wrong. A work for 12 dancers, and accompanied by vocal sampling of the words "Rainbow Bandit Bomb", this was the most technical work of the medley, with the dancers performing in duets and trios, breaking away to perform in new groups or alone. It ended poignantly with a solitary dancer leaping and dancing at the rear of the stage as the lights dimmed.


Compared to the works which followed in the evening, Early Days was the least satisfying piece, but was of interest for its historical value - and it was probably very beneficial to the hordes of GCSE and A-level students in the audience!


The second piece of the evening was a premiere of Martin Lawrance's latest work, Other Than I, a duet performed by Anneli Binder and Hannah Kidd. With Couperin's 'Leçon de ténèbres' creating a reverent mood, the piece started with a pensive, distracted Hannah Kidd, later becoming more frenzied and passionate, in counterpoint to Anneli Binder's more restrained accompaniment of her, occasionally shadowing her. A duet between the two seemed to transfer some of Binder's calmness to Kidd as the piece ended.


Other Than I is a sumptuous duet, with Lawrance effortlessly turning the Alston style into a work of beauty.


In Memory was created by Robert Cohan for the late London Contemporary Dance Theatre in 1989; essentially a work for four men, it's difficult not to draw comparisons with the early work of Michael Nunn and William Trevitt who formed George Piper Dances (later BalletBoyz) only two years later. While there was a recurring motif of a "power circle" temporarily uniting the four men, we saw them breaking away, briefly tussling with each other with vigorous, near-agressive partnering. They were joined by two women; one duet suggested a passionate argument with a loved one, with visible tension in their lifts and her running away only to return, or to be pulled back by her partner. The second duet, by contrast, saw Nathan Goodman trying to restrain a woman who wanted to leave, eventually failing.


It was interesting to see the distinctive style of Robert Cohan and his possible influences on Alston, although the comparisons with BalletBoyz were all too distracting!


The final piece of the night was Unfinished Business, a recent work by Richard Alston, completing the retrospective of his works. It started with a sprightly solo by Liam Riddick, which became more grounded in feel as the piece progressed, alternating with a graceful quartet. The cornerstone of the work was a lovely solo between Anneli Binder and Pierre Tapon, all the more powerful in the intimacy of the venue. We then saw a buoyant solo by the ever-wonderful Andres de Blust-Mommaerts; he was joined onstage by Riddick and Charlotte Eatock, whose relatively tame duet balanced the increasing wildness of de Blust-Mommaerts's dancing.


Watching Richard Alston's company is like reading a new book by a favourite author, or returning to a favourite holiday spot: the joy is in seeing Alston continue to explore his movement style and produce something new yet still familiar. And it's always a treat to watch his company perform "at home" in The Place, especially as it gives some of his dancers a greater chance to shine: Liam Riddick was particularly impressive to watch during In Memory and Unfinished Business, and Nancy Nerantzi's nuanced performances stood out, as did Hannah Kidd. And while we can look forward to seeing them at Sadler's Wells again in the spring, these performances at The Place have a more experimental feel which might lose their impact in the austerity of a larger venue. 

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Birmingham Royal Ballet, 'Autumn Glory'

Every year, one of the highlights of Sadler's Wells' autumn season is Birmingham Royal Ballet's annual visit, bringing both a full-length classical ballet, and a triple-bill of modern works. Their 2010 programme, Pointes of View, presented Balanchine's Slaughter on Tenth Avenue, while in 2009's Quantum Leaps, they performed brand new works from artistic director David Bintley and the Artistic Director of Australian Dance Theatre, Garry Stewart.

 

The current programme, Autumn Glory, focussed on modern ballet's heritage, with Ninette de Valois's 1937 Checkmate, Frederick Ashton's 1946 Symphonic Variations and John Cranko's 1951 Pineapple Poll. Performed by some of the finest dancers in this country, this timeless triple-bill is fascinating viewing for those who are used to their ballet being much more modern.

 

Ninette de Valois is best-known as the founder of both the Royal Ballet and Birmingham Royal Ballet as well as the Royal Ballet School, and we too easily forget her earlier career as a dancer - including with the Ballets Russes - and as a prolific choreographer, even if few of her works have survived to this day.

 

Checkmate is the story of a battle between Love and Death played out on in the world of chess. The striking set and costumes by E McKnight Kauffer risked overshadowing the choreography, with each character's elaborate headgear, and paintings on the back of the stage which could have easily inspired the artwork for Pink Floyd's 'Dark Side Of The Moon'.

 

Thankfully, the choreography was deliberate and simplistic, whether depicting the pawns' limited range of movement, or showing us the impressive ensemble dance of the four knights, or the Black Queen's seduction of the First Red Knight, Chi Cao, and their subsequent duel.

 

Checkmate is captivating in its dramatic flair and the outlandishness of its costumes and set design, with remarkable performances by Samara Downs as the Black Queen and Chi Cao as the First Red Knight - and a welcome appearance by Max Westwell as one of the Black Knights, following his recent transfer to Birmingham Royal Ballet.

 

Symphonic Variations is notable in being the first ballet where all of its dancers remained onstage throughout. A plotless abstract piece, essentially about stillness and the changing seasons, it explored the interplay between the three female and three male dancers, beautifully led by Jenna Roberts and Iain Mackay.

 

Symphonic Variations shows modern ballet in its purest form, and it's clear to see why this is acclaimed as one of Ashton's finest works: it's a brilliant introduction to his work, and should be essential viewing for all ballet newbies!

 

Pineapple Poll, the final piece of the evening, is instantly lovable from its opening scene of two sailors and two girls in a town square outside a bar.

 

Birmingham Royal Ballet's website asks "What might a classic cartoon look like if brought to life on stage?" (source); the story of Pineapple Poll is of the arrival of the dashing Captain Belaye, prompting all of the female characters to fall in love with him - much to the annoyance of his sailors, and of Jasper the Pot Boy, who's in love with Poll. Poll sneaks onto the ship, disguised as a sailor, but it turns out she's not the only one - the entire ship's crew has diminished in height with mustaches hanging on for dear life! All ends well, though, with the captain married to his sweetheart, and with Poll showing a new appreciation for Jasper on his hasty promotion to captain.

 

The piece is very playful, and is a perfect example of Broadway-influenced ballet, with occasional tap numbers and social dance scenes as well as plenty of comedy to enjoy as well. Gilbert & Sullivan is the ideal accompaniment for the somewhat surreal comedy of Pineapple Poll's storylines - but this piece isn't just about comedy, with beautiful choreography throughout, from Jasper's impassioned solos to Poll's hopelessly unmasculine dancing while posing as a sailor.

 

Pineapple Poll is a thoroughly enjoyable romp - and one to treasure. Let's hope Birmingham Royal Ballet brings this back again, and soon!

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Shaun Parker 'Happy As Larry'

As I watched Shaun Parker’s dancers bounce, gyrate, swing and skate around a stage set with a giant, revolving chalk board and balloon arch, my mind strayed to a little quirk of mine which has stayed with me since childhood. When I’m stressed, excited, or just need warming up, I rub my hands together really quickly. It’s a little habit that has often been met with confusion, but it feels good. Although the dancers did not literally take on my bizarre trait, they too seemed to perform outlandish movement, just because they liked it. Throw in some hip hop, contemporary and ballet, and there you have Happy as Larry, a choreographic exploration of the nature of happiness.

 

This piece drew inspiration from the Enneagram, with characters developed from this psychological system which maps nine personality types. I spent a large proportion of the performance trying to determine which of the dancers were supposed to portray which type (and judging by the flurries of whispers from surrounding seats, so were fellow audience members). Reflecting this range of personalities with an assortment of styles made perfect sense and worked well within the piece. Parker put his own twist on each genre, putting an emotion and scenario behind each one and thus, seamlessly avoiding any disjointed transitions.

 

Phrases of stilted, gestural movement were also scattered amongst numerous solos and duets. At various points in this piece I started to feel that I’d seen this material too much, until the dancers took an unexpected turn out of it: the giant chalk board did well to maintain the pace of this piece, whether a head was emerging from it, or it was being rotated to unveil a new section.

 

All in all, Happy as Larry was absolutely not as I expected. Despite the dancers’ excellent comedic timing and outbursts of mock disco dancing, this piece was, above all, thought-provoking and at times, sombre. I’m still undecided as to whether this was a stroke of genius, or if I would have preferred this piece about happiness to be a tad more uplifting.

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Caterina Sagna 'Basso Ostinato'

Dance Umbrella calls itself "one of the world's leading dance festivals", presenting "brave new dance"; the highlights of this year's programme have been retrospectives of works by Merce Cunningham, Richard Alston, Candoco Dance Company and Karol Armitage. As for the rest of their programme... tonight showed me that Dance Umbrella are committed as ever to investing in the "what is dance?" debate and continuing to programme and promote physical theatre.

 

The Place has been enthusiastically recommending Caterina Sagna's "Basso Ostinato"; described as three men "reminiscing about their ballet-dancing past, complete with luridly scatological tales from the rehearsal room", it sounded similar to Winter Guests' "Avenida Corrientes" (details), featuring the breathtaking Daniel Proietto in a dance theatre work as the muse of Andrew Wale's choreographer. In the 105 minutes of Avenida Corrientes, we saw the ten-year relationship between the two characters, the progress of their final work together and the tragic destruction of their relationship: not a minute of this piece was wasted. It was hoped that "Basso Ostinato" would be much the same.

 

This was not to be the case. "Basso Ostinato" opened with a table and two chairs at the front of the stage, with a TV behind the table showing a production of Giselle filmed at La Scala. Towards the rear of the stage, we could see a row of bottles and condiments, with a subtitles screen against the rear wall - positioned sufficiently high for the audience to be able to watch the screen or the performers, but not both simultaneously. The dialogue - in French, occasionally in Italian - opened with two men speculating about male pattern baldness in principal dancers, followed by "Man B" reciting an excerpt of a poem, both men crudely commenting on the screening of Giselle beside them, leading "Man A" into an anecdote of one rehearsal where he ended up "shitting his pants". Of all the potential reminiscing and luridly scatological tales, this was sadly the full extent, even if it was repeated continually throughout the evening, with minor alterations each time. The alterations were presumably the barometer of their scripted inebriation.

 

Antonio Montanile appeared onstage during the first retelling, initially to move the TV offstage in order to replace the onscreen dancers, moving distractedly while the two men continued to talk, yet managing to obstruct "Man B" as he walked over to the rear of the stage to retrieve another bottle of alcohol. Montanile started moving closer to the table, making a nuisance of himself and being swatted viciously to the floor each time until one of the men managed to wrestle him into a chair and seemingly adopted him as part of their group.

 

The repeated text alternated with sections of group movement, yet it was all too evident that the performers were not trained dancers, and that the choreography was uninspired, underwhelming and apparently without context. At one point - after each of the men had ripped up and eaten their scripts - the men staggered to the rear of the stage in their death throes. They did this eight times. After the eighth time, they proceeded to writhe individually, then took turns to die in each others' arms before seemingly overcoming death and returning to the table for yet another repeat of their stories.

 

"Basso Ostinato" teased us with multiple false endings, and in fact exceeded its advertised running time by the time it had found a suitable ending to conclude with. Surely the death throes scene would have been a natural end. Or when each of the performers collapsed in various parts of the stage, with one smoking a cigarette as the lights faded. Or one of the many times when the performers slithered off the stage.

 

While repetition lay at the heart of this work, repetition is a tricky choreographic tool, producing amazing results in the right hands - eg Anna Teresa de Keersmaeker's 'Rosas Danst Rosas'; in the wrong hands it can appear lazy, uninspired or even amateurish. Given the merits of the original concept of this piece, we can only speculate what this piece could become if it had more time to develop further; each of the sections suffered from being drawn out for too long, with too little content and too little creativity to sustain its length.

 

Nevertheless, all was not lost; Philippe Gladieux's lighting design for this piece was beautiful, while the highlights of the evening were the brief glimpse of Giselle, and the copious amounts of passive smoking.

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Candoco Dance Company: Turning 20

Now that Candoco Dance Company has hit the ripe age of twenty, to celebrate, we are treated to a triple bill of three new commissions, Candoco-style. I say this due to noting the very fitting statement situated on the front of the programme for the evening which reads, ‘An anniversary programme of three bold and unexpected works’. This is precisely what draws many to Candoco’s work year after year: the unexpected. And this point alone proves the company are successfully achieving what they set out to do. Candoco is of course the unique leading dance company comprised of disabled and non-disabled dancers, founded by Celeste Dandeker and Adam Benjamin in 1991. They embrace difference in order to enrich dance itself, therefore providing exciting, versatile and new ways of thinking about dance. Funnily enough, due to their hard work promoting diversity and excellence, the focus does not solely rely on the fact that disabled dancers are simply used in the context of dance. The company provides proof that their value as artists is of far more importance and evidently so, continues to produce extraordinary work. And tonight’s triple bill is of no exception.

 

Saving the best until last has no relevance here as we begin with the first commission by choreographer Rachid Ouramdane. Looking Back is an intimate experience with a big atmosphere. We initially feel as though we are about to encounter a rather low-key rock gig as the stage is encircled by five guitars and amps. The lighting is, well, light as we hesitantly wait for something, coughs and sniffs from the audience breaking the ice. Eventually the first body walks into the space with the belief of encompassing all the time in the world; an ongoing theme throughout. A sequence of intensely slow movement is carried out, easing through skill and balance whilst the five remaining dancers proceed to walk on and off, simply watching. The whole thing is almost intimidating, yet we wait with bated breath, sucked in by an extremely gradual build up of tension. All are dressed casually in black, complimenting the ambience the guitars begin to provide which are soon used effectively by the dancers themselves, at points controlling the movement. Control is a key word when relating to this piece, the movement and even where we as an audience are concerned. It’s as though Ouramdane knows exactly where to pull our focus, cleverly utilising a video camera at one point, manipulated by a dancer. However, it is those being filmed that contribute to the manipulation, moving in literal slow motion as an interactive group which is then projected from the camera onto the back of the stage. It is a plain yet mind blowing piece of staging enhanced by the focus on the dancer’s faces rather than their bodies, while snapshots are taken with the intention of capturing the facial expressions as though we are watching the movement through the dancer’s eyes. The whole body of the piece with its honest and personal setting is disturbingly beautiful. Further disturbance is created in images cleverly depicted in the space, and tension rises, brilliantly timed by a simple yet exuberant stamping motif. Dancers are possessed by the guitar as they flail their bodies around by means of rocking out, and imaginative goings on include oddly situated tap dancing and alteration of one’s clothes; something is being said here and we are desperately intrigued. Within the programme note, Ouramdane uses phrases such as ‘poetic’, ‘distinct depth of feeling’ and ‘the emotional charges that emerge are invitations to the audience to create open-ended fictions’ to describe this piece. Stunningly, he hits the nail right on the head.

 

Following on from such a thought -provoking start is Matthias Sperling’s equally thought-provoking This Is It, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. Unnoticed by a chattering audience, out steps Candoco’s first ever commissioned solo in the form of a cloaked dancer in a big blonde wig. She grins cheekily as the audience begin to realise her presence, rousing giggles to erupt around Southbank’s Queen Elizabeth Hall. The lighting, again, is rather simplistic, hiding not an ounce of the dominatrix-esque superhero that has just been revealed from under that cloak. This striking image most certainly falls under the ‘unexpected’ category, continually accompanied by a cheeky smile. Start as you mean to go on as the saying says, resulting in the next fifteen minutes being spent in utter bewilderment. For a while, this rare individual progresses to move in random ways, resembling a curious child at show and tell. Her childlike manners present phrases of actions in which you feel obliged to watch out of politeness as you would do with a child dancing around the living room at Christmas. This continues, evoking an increase in gentle laughter, when out of nowhere our dancer quite literally bursts into an 80's Eurovision-worthy song, fancy lights and all. Singing rather well it has to be said, an experience of a Top of the Pops nature plays out before us, smoke machines and tacky lights whisking us into what feels like a dream, her dream. As the song draws to a close, all returns to its original state as she commences in repeating the initial movement phrases, but with three accompanying words, ‘this is it’. On the final ‘it’ the piece concludes to resounding yet baffled cheers. An odd experience to say the least, undoubtedly posing numerous questions to its witnesses, but it really does enable you to recognise yourself as an individual. Is it dance? Yes, if you’re open-minded enough. However, I’m afraid that those unfamiliar or new to dance would find it far less accessible and possibly quite frustrating. To quote an audience member inexperienced in dance, ‘it was cross between a horrible pornography and Stars in Their Eyes’.

 

On a completely opposite end of the scale, the last piece commissioned by Dance Umbrella was the restaging project Set and Reset/Reset by the Trisha Brown Dance Company with Candoco. Trisha Brown Dance Company member Abigail Yager directs the new take on the classic 1983 Set and Reset, teaching original extracts to the Candoco dancers whilst also leading them through the exact improvisation process used back in 1983. The result is just beautiful, a reminder of some brilliant history. The design is based on the original geometric hangings and transparent wings refresh the space while the fluid costumes unify the dancers. A feeling of rejoicing spreads throughout the room as the dancers begin with a sideways lift resembling an invisible walk, and so the beauty continues. Pedestrian noises and words provide the postmodern soundtrack to pendulum-like bodies, networking around each other, arms and legs swiftly swinging into the space. It’s an abstract piece at its best which donates to the collective variety of Candoco; such an iconic piece as this exhibits why Candoco are such a significant company. Although the previous two works leave you with far more ponderings and questions, the coming together of these two companies and artistries is one to remember and keep safe in the memory box.

 

All three commissions are gratefully dissimilar from one another and rightfully take their place within the company in an outstanding quality, whether that be a good or bad thing. Due to being all roundly spot on, Looking Back is an unbelievable piece of dance not to be missed. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any better...

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Beijing Dance Theatre

On paper, Beijing Dance Theater appeared to be an exciting addition to Sadlers Wells' 'Out of Asia' programme (also featuring the likes of Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Akram Khan and Cloud Gate Dance Theatre): their choreographer and founder Wang Yuanyuan is “one of the most sought-after” Chinese choreographers and a guest choreographer for New York City Ballet, fusing ballet with contemporary dance. In the three short years of the company's existence, it has become one of the preeminent contemporary dance companies of China - so how could Haze go wrong?


Haze claims to be a response "to the economic and environmental crises of early 2009"; elsewhere, it's suggested that it's about the pollution of Beijing. Environmental crises are certainly implied by the ever-present haze, and by a smoke machine towards the rear of the stage, sometimes suggesting a geyser, sometimes suggesting a volcanic eruption. The padding on the stage initially resembles a barren field, becoming concrete-like in the middle section, before finally being exposed as plastic at the end.


Fundamentally, however, Haze was a piece about falling - about the moments before you fall, what you accomplish and achieve before you fall - and how you fall. About the moment of falling, and its inevitability. Duets would consist of a few short steps before both dancers fell to the ground - as though they symbolised brief encounters before returning to the earth.


The stage padding both accentuated and hampered the choreography of Haze; while it enabled the dancers to travel much further and throw themselves to the ground or across the stage, its instability lessened the impact of some beautiful movements while limiting what movement was available to the dancers. And while the use of the mat could have provided great choreographic potential, unfortunately the movement vocabulary of the piece was very limited, with many recurring moves and motifs. And spending 75 minutes of watching dancers fall over is not an enthralling experience.

 

Considering the wealth of East Asian choreographic talent in London, Beijing Dance Theater was a rare opportunity to see the diversity of works being created in China, and I’d hoped that this would be an opportunity to see some of the artistic background influencing the UK-based dance artists, even if Beijing Dance Theater is only three years old. And while the set was reminiscent of NDT’s ‘Dissolve In This’ (2010), and there's no denying the technical abilities of the company's dancers, Haze reinforced how spoiled we are for dance in London, with so many of the world’s greatest companies performing regularly – beside which Beijing Dance Theater can’t possibly compare.

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Rambert's Season of New Choreography

The Place is renowned for hosting a variety of choreographers, themes and skills, and the Season of New Choreography created by Rambert's dancers was no exception. Featuring five works in total, many of the pieces shown were constructed in live collaboration between the dancers and musicians, representing a range of innovative approaches through Rambert’s Music Fellowship scheme. The Season of new choreography saw the dancers experiment and create brand new work under mentors Darshan Singh Buller, Sarah Rubidge and Eddie Nixon, supported by the Esmée Fairbairn Foundation.

 

The evening took a purposeful and distinct course from the outset.  The first piece, choreographed by Jonathan Goddard embodied the mobile technology that dictates our lives, proceeding to dictate the movement journeys of the dancers involved. Entitled 07941611971, Goddard claimed invention with no pre-existing choreographic content, using audience participation and Twister-esque spinners to develop both creative and extremely technical movement. The dancers’ phone numbers scrolled across LED boards above the space, with audience members invited to call a dancer and direct their movement. A question of ethics crossed my mind whilst watching: who would want to delete these fantastic dancers’ phone numbers?! Goddard’s work echoed Merce Cunningham’s methodologies in theory, and I imagine Cunningham would have relished in such an innovative use of choreographic intent, relying so much on the imagination and strong skill of the dancers involved.

 

Following such a revelation was Kirill Burlov’s Mamihlapinatapai – the confusion of the title alone had nothing on the piece itself. Whilst the dancers displayed the virtuosic flexibility and strength, I was left wondering what meaning I should take from this complex work. The programme notes were limited, attempting to translate the word which shed no light on the movement content, unfortunately. Despite this, the on-stage musical ensemble provided a touchstone for the piece, reminding me of the grounded reality of the pure creation of art in the space. The house lights remained up as the dancers entered the space, stretching and talking. This provided an extreme contrast with the conclusive performance, with the scenario demystifying the illusion that is often created by such skill and performance in real bodies, often forgotten by the audience. On a rather pedantic note, the curtain call left much to be desired, quashing the technical display.

 

The interval gave way to a humorous and particularly truthful creation: Lines written a few miles below by Malgorzata Dzierzon, the result of a period of collaboration in exploring the unique culture of London commuters. Particularly well portrayed was the silent confrontation in navigating around a busy London, something in which possibly all audience members could relate to. The piece made direct reference to public human behaviour, depicting this both precisely and insightfully, with each dancer becoming a character that could also be recognised throughout the audience, with separate lives joining on one journey. The ensemble work directly portrayed the adverse reality of commuters, developing the mindset of that person who wakes up with their head in their neighbour’s lap, the enthusiastic and passionate couple, and the disgruntled city worker, all conveying the inadvertent annoyance at fellow passengers. A job well done.

 

The fourth piece of the evening was choreographed by Otis-Cameron Carr, entitled Oh! The virtuosic skill presented here was like no other, with calm and fluid transitions between the solos, duets and ensemble work between the four dancers. Carr created with reference to the environment of his home life, and the temperaments of the female bodies combined with Carr’s own within the household. The classical quality of the movement was particularly welcome in his conveyance of an almost haunting quality through the dancers’ performances. With Carr responsible for choreography, costume design and sound design, the poignant feelings evoked reverberated through the core of the piece, reflected inwards and back out. Technical skill is often a given for Rambert dancers, yet those chosen by Carr were a credit to his work, displaying such control and strength especially during the adage type movement phrases created.

 

The evening was concluded, and quite rightfully so, with the choreographic collaboration between Jonathan Goddard and Gemma Nixon. Taking their interpretation of a Grimm’s fairy tale, they explored the trapping visions of the sub-conscious through a dark journey shared between the characters involved, danced by Goddard and Nixon. Aside from such innovative and creative choreographic display, the particular lighting and music selected added an intensely sinister feel to the movement, which eventually became frantic and disturbing, questioning what makes us feel trapped. The manipulative duet led by Goddard created fear in the intimacy shared with Nixon, investigating both character and choreographic intent and leading the audience to share Nixon’s panic in being controlled so helplessly. Strobe lighting was featured in the use of showering feathers in the final phrases, which inevitably added to the dark fear connected with a lack of understanding.

 

Overall, the Rambert dancers portrayed excellent skill and performance, maintaining their reputation as both innovative creators and solid, strong dancers. 

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Royal Ballet: Limen, Marguerite & Armand, Requiem

Five years ago, I took a good friend to see his first ever dance show. It was ironINC's 2007 Resolution! performance at The Place; the opening piece of the night consisted of a woman jumping up and down, then running around the stage. He was baffled, concerned that he'd somehow missed some subtext, synopsis or key information.

 

This is much how I felt on watching Wayne McGregor's Limen today. Sadly, the experience was hampered by little to none of Limen actually being visible in the cheap side seats, and instead resulted in a lengthy, largely uninterrupted meditation on the empty stage of the Royal Opera House.

 

Perhaps because to the east of us, the Merce Cunningham Dance Company was staging its last ever performance in London, Limen appeared to be Cunninghamesque in its creation: the choreography was even more abstract than usual, with seemingly random duets and solos occuring in the space, however at times, similar movements would be performed by a nearby pair, but differently. Also Cunninghamesque was the placing of the movement along the sides and at the back, hence the lack of visibility for us lesser mortals sitting on the side.

 

The highlight of Limen was of course the duet between Eric Underwood and Sarah Lamb, which proved that when you strip away all the affectations from McGregor's choreograhy, you can find moments of beauty.

 

The second piece in today's triple bill was Marguerite & Armand, which was choreographed by Ashton in 1963 as a vehicle for Margot Fonteyn's and Rudolf Nureyev's new partnership; he later decreed that it should never be performed by anyone else, but it was revived in 2000 for Nureyev's protegée Sylvie Guillem and Nicolas Le Riche, and more recently by Tamara Rojo and Federico Bonelli. The original version, narrated by Margot Fonteyn, was recently screened by BBC4 as part of a weekend of dance programming.

 

Marguerite & Armand is based on Dumas' play "La Dame aux camélias" about a courtesan who Dumas fell in love with before her death from consumption at age 23.

 

The piece opened with Marguerite on her deathbed, hallucinating the presence of Armand before reminiscing about their relationship from when they first met, the development of their relationship despite his father banning her from seeing him, concluding with Armand's fury at discovering that she had returned to being a courtesan. In the present day, or at least in 1852, we saw Armand return to the dying Marguerite for one last ecstatic duet.

 

Tamara Rojo and Sergei Polunin were perfectly cast in their roles, wholly inhabiting their characters in a way which we had not seen in the previous Guillem/Le Riche casting. We could easily see Tamara Rojo as a younger Fonteyn, with the same warmth and vivacity we would expect from her, while it was all too easy to imagine Sergei channelling Nureyev, performing with similar bearing, passion and fire.

 

While this is hardly Ashton's finest choreography, it's filled with dramatic passionate duets, and is a must for Sergei Polunin fans!

 

The evening concluded with Macmillan's Requiem, a tribute to choreographer and friend John Cranko on his sudden death in 1973; in the closing triple bill of the Royal Ballet's previous season, we saw Glen Tetley's own tribute to Cranko, Voluntaries, which was exquisitely performed by Marianela Nuñez.

 

Requiem was performed to Fauré's Requiem, accompanied by a choir which was beautifully led by Anna Devin (soprano) and Daniel Grice (baritone). The piece was imbued with a solemn funereal feel, with ritualised movement, slow deliberate duets and many friezes throughout. There was also raw unballetic movement, evocative of the animalistic Rite of Spring, also choreographed by Macmillan.

 

The three main roles were the Everyman (Carlos Acosta), the chief female mourner (Marianela Nuñez) and the Goddess/white-clad woman (Leanne Benjamin), with Leanne beautifully partnered by Rupert Pennefather. Each were stunning to watch, from Carlos Acosta's tortured, anguish-filled solo to the effortlessly fluid duet between Pennefather and Leanne. And as for Nuñez - well, she completely stole the show!

 

Definitely worth going just for Requiem, and Marguerite & Armand, but Limen was very disappointing. And as for the men's wigs in Marguerite & Armand..... !

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Roaratorio, Merce Cunningham Dance Company

Dance Umbrella, London’s annual festival of international dance, is renowned for producing outstanding works time and time again. Arguably, the most significant of these is 2011’s farewell to the Merce Cunningham Dance Company as they visit London for the last time as part of their Legacy Tour. Dance Umbrella has presented Cunningham’s work for over twenty years, with 2011 signalling the last time.

 

Before Cunningham’s death in 2009, the company agreed they would disband following a two year world tour, to be completed on New Year’s Eve in New York City. In a post-show discussion at the Barbican last night, Trevor Carlson, executive director, maintained that the decision was not one surrounded by financial burden, but that of a personal one. Cunningham had not wanted the company to continue under another name’s direction, but instead formed the legacy of the company, particularly through Dance Capsules in which his work can live on.

 

The tour began with Merce Circus on Saturday at Stratford Circus in East London for an intensive weekend. This provided audiences with the opportunity to interact with Cunningham’s work in addition to a performance of Squaregame (1976), an archive exhibition and film screenings, and the unique chance to take part in a Field Dances (1963) workshop, but without the Lycra unitards! Squaregame gave the evening a professional edge yet the company went on to open its arms to the audience, inviting them to step into the aesthetic of the Cunningham world. The installation at Stratford Circus epitomised Cunningham’s playfulness and curiosity that surrounded his entire career, questioning and modifying in the exploration of his processes.

 

The tour continues until Saturday, having transferred to the Barbican Centre with more formalised performances. One in particular, Roaratorio (1983), offers a further glimpse at Cunningham and his ethos in the Irish fiddling-esque soundtrack and unfaultable skill of the dancers, with alternative nights offering Pond Way (1998), Second Hand (1970), Antic Meet (1958), RainForest (1968) and BIPED (1999). Roaratorio is one of the most ambitious and large-scale Cunningham-Cage collaborations, presenting itself as a dance icon. Ironically, speaking of the future of the MCDC, Carlson advocated that the company would not be turned into a museum, but the chance to further engage with Cunningham’s work, including career-transition packages for the whole company. Roaratorio did not fail to impress, with an almost poignant stance held by all involved, a clear message of how influential Cunningham’s work continues to be.

 

A farewell for fans, and an insight into the treats Cunningham created throughout his entire career. To be present at such a significant event was an honour indeed, to witness live the company’s success, further demonstrated by the refusal of the audience to stop clapping during the curtain call. If this is not evidence for the universal success of MCDC, it is hard to specify what is, considering the profound influence Cunningham continues to hold over the dance world.

 

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The Cucashop, ironINC

A 'cucashop' is a South African term for a drinking session, and it was all too appropriate that tonight's event was held in the bar of Shoreditch's Rich Mix.

 

Tonight's "Cucashop" was a fundraiser organised on behalf of Jen Irons' "ironINC in Africa"; I had missed her 2009 fundraiser, but tonight offered a restaging of her 2006 work "Due To Unforeseen Circumstances", followed by a performance by Uchenna Dance Company, DJs and various live musicians.

 

Tonight's show officially started at 7pm, and for the first half hour, the audience meandered around the space, trying to find somewhere to sit or stand, admiring the makeshift baobab tree, and enjoying the African-themed music.

 

The piece began with a woman screaming "Wait!!" while she ran across the stage area and flung herself at the bus stop. After a brief interlude, she started ranting about her ex-boyfriend, needing to pay her electricity bill, wash her clothes, buy groceries, charge up her laptop... as the piece progressed, she continued to launguish at the bus stop, contorting herself into ever more elaborate pretzels, never managing to board a bus, but at least seduced at the end by a snazzily-wigged Christian From.

 

"Due To Unforeseen Circumstances" is a piece about mechanics, cars, and buses which never arrive. It's also about people's stories along the way, and the skill of Jen Irons' choreography is interspersing her characters' dramas with sections of pure dance, with the use of intricate gestures to narrate her stories while never losing the dramatic tension.

 

The most memorable moment of this piece is course when Siobhan Maguire, as a mechanic, strips down to a bikini and dons a long-haired wig to the strains of "The Girl From Ipanema", and poses erotically on the motorbike at the rear of the stage. Two men see her, stop dead in their tracks... and then enthuse at length about the motorbike's specs, slapping the petrol tank, not even noticing Siobhan's presence. Finally she loses patience with them and chases them off, telling them "you look less like mechanics and more like... a boy band!"

 

If there's an award for "most skilful use of nods", then we can make sure that Jen Irons receives it for this piece!

 

In the speech which Jen Irons gave later in the evening, she mentioned that she'd managed to pluck 8 out of her 9 dancers out of retirement, and all the more credit to her (and them) for pulling off such a polished performance; although it's been 5 years since the creation of this piece, it still shows a maturity, freshness and dynamism rarely present in the works by today's LCDS graduates.

 

And surely Jen should receive some prize for bringing back her original cast members of Christian From, Steve Robinson, Nick Lawson, Marc Saad, Jane Alice and Leon Smith. I last saw an excerpt of this piece performed outside the British Library in 2006, the day after the LCDS graduate party, and it has barely lost any of its freshness since then.

 

 

After a brief interval, Uchenna Dance Company took to the stage with "Regal Culture", a celebration of the everyday woman performed by six women, each wearing vivid costumes made from African print fabric.

 

Uchenna Dance Company's choreographic style blends modern dance with African dance, however the six dancers were visibly more comfortable with the African-influenced movement; by contrast, the non-African movements were less distinct, performed with less vigour than the African choreography.

 

One of the dancers, Amy Latchman, was beautiful to watch, adding a finesse to her performance aided by influences from other movement styles.

 

Although the lack of programme information meant that it was hard to understand what the piece was about, it was a welcome opportunity to appreciate the new wave of African-influenced dance supported by East London Dance and Vocab Dance.

 

 

Following the next break, Jen Irons gave a brief speech to introduce the evening and to explain the work which she is trying to raise awareness and funds for.

 

For the last several years, she has been travelling to different countries in Africa each year, working with children who have been severely affected by the ongoing civil war and violence prevalent in many of these countries. Although she had had preconceived ideas when she first went out there, she has since learned that what is most important is to "enjoy listening to music, enjoy having a dance, and getting together to have a good time." It hasn't been a one-way process either: Jen has learned a lot about music, movement styles, people's stories and so much more in the time she has spent there.

 

Jen is fully committed to her upcoming project in Namibia, but she needs to raise the funds in order to make that possible. When she was talking about her first year there, she explained that she'd had all these "big ideas" about the work she would do with the children - but ultimately, all the kids wanted was "to get their freak on". And so they did.

 

And with your help, they'll continue to do so. If you'd like to donate, then please visit cucashop.com or ironincinafrica.blogspot.com

 

 

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