Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Review: Draft Works April 27, The Opera House

It's starting to sound like a broken record. All this talk about ballet's uncertain future is becoming the verbal equivalent of too many Cinderella's. We pose the questions, but the answers to how ballet might — or is evolving — are rare and wooly. While Alice proved to succeed on the technological front, many saw the new story ballet to be as traditional as its classic ancestors. And when the Royal took on Manon after its heavy stint of Ashton restagings, we hoped MacMillan's interpretation would shed light on where ballet is headed. But we are all still looking. The reviews are mixed, and we don't have the wordcount for future-forecasting. But the search for a light-filled interlude in this uncertain time might still exist within the Royal Opera House.

On Wednesday evening, the small but ample Linbury Studio was filled to capacity with an audience eager to see Draft Works, an hour-long performance of new work by Royal Ballet dancers. Wayne McGreggor, resident choreographer, hosted the evening and was quick to explain that these original performances were exactly what the event name implied: choreographic "sketches" that the dancers have worked on in their spare time outside of regular rehearsal hours. "No lighting. No costumes. No makeup," he said.

Despite the evening's lo-fi quality, the eight, original performances were polished explorations of traditional choreography and new movement. All showed a deep understanding for the music. Ludovic Ondiviela’s ensemble piece to God Speed You Black Emperor exemplified a choreographer’s ability to not only react to music, but manipulate and own it. His use of space and pacing gave the piece urgency, and the intricate choreography over the music’s gradual build added a new melodic layer. It was as if Ondiviela had artfully dragged his toe through musical syrup, coaxing out sounds through movement that we would not have otherwise heard.

If the dancers-cum-choreographers were nervous to introduce their pieces, the performances suggested otherwise. The choreographers, who ranged in experience, presented work that was undeniably confident and varied.

Sian Murphy opened the evening with a pas de deux to music by Dead Prez and WTF?! “I know that most of you probably don’t listen to this kind of music,” warned Murphy, just as tall in her 3-inch heels as she is in her pointe shoes. “But it’s the music I love. And it’s what I dance to when I’m home from rehearsal.”

The thunderous dubstep was a powerful backdrop to Murphy’s hip-hop and tango influenced choreography. And in this case, the stripped down look of the studio and rehearsal clothes enhanced Murphy’s work.

“I wanted to create roles that dancers would see and say, ‘I want to dance that part. That looks fun,’” said Murphy after the performance.

Thomas Whitehead and Lara Turk convincingly transported the audience from the Linbury to a sweaty basement nightclub. Despite the precise footwork (which they learned in about four rehearsals), the pair danced with controlled but inebriated abandon. Turk was a powerful heroine, and both were comfortable to not only dance to the music, but also let it move them.

Samantha Raine worked within the constructs of her classical ballet background to choreograph a lovely but traditional pas de deux for Leanne Cope and Liam Scarlett. After watching Murphy’s forceful female role, Cope’s interpretation of the female part was robotic and graceless, leaving me wondering how much time she had to learn the part.

Natalie Harrison began work on a pas de deux but changed the choreography to feature two men. “It was supposed to be a sketch,” she explained. “But it’s a bit more of a doodle.” Although the performance was unfinished, Harrison’s choice to work with two male dancers introduced a theme to the evening. Despite the amount of female parts in the performances — and the doodling, the choreography was about the guys. Perhaps, because of the small stage, the boys took up more room. But in pointe shoes, Turk is taller than Whitehead, and he still drew the gaze.

In general, Scarlett and Whitehead were the forces of the overall Draft Works performance. Both are well known as dancers and choreographers (most recently Scarlett choreographed works for young dancers at the Genee competition) and performed in several of the pieces. Even as the typical male backdrop in Raine’s pas de deux, Scarlett was the undeniable lead.

Valentino Zuchetti closed the evening with Trio Sonata, a dance for two men and one female dancer. His work was one of the most traditionally-influenced performances, but Zuchetti artfully embedded contemporary ideas within the classical structure, including subtle, surprising twists, and an en pointe slide from across the stage.

While Yasmine Naghdi was dazzling (she was the only dancer to wear diamond earrings), it was Sander Blommaert and Zucchetti himself who sparkled. Granted, dancing is a partnership. You must know when to hold back. But Draft Works proved that the dancers of the Royal Ballet are radiating with enthusiasm for new choreography. It’s a refreshing sight, even if it means the boys are stealing a scene or two.


Draft Works e-mails for interview


Questions e-mailed to Kristen McNally regarding Draft Works. Waiting for response:

How challenging is it to reconcile your background as a classically trained ballet dancer with your work as a choreographer who uses popular music and hip-hop movement?

It has to be difficult to make changes to movements that have been done virtually the same way for hundreds of years. How, as a choreographer, do you work with ballet's rich tradition and today's popular ideas? Can the ballet classics reflect our modern culture?

People seem to have a lot to say about the 'future' of ballet. Where do you think ballet choreography is headed?

Additionally, it seems that ballet companies and the dancers within those companies are making efforts to include or find new audiences — Draft Works, for example, or San Francisco Ballet's Beer and Ballet. What is your take on ballet writing in popular news media sources? Is the review- and dance-writing changing with ballet? As a dancer and choreographer, do you find current ballet writing engaging or helpful?

E-mails to friends

To C:

For my thesis I'm looking at new ways of writing about ballet, especially new modes of writing the dance review. It goes back to the fleeting moments thing. How can you make a singular artistic experience have staying power? I think art that is rooted in oral tradition (ballet and probably so much of the music you're discovering) is cast-off as an ugly duckling. There's very little (or no) written history, which makes it harder to ground or attach to other notions of what art is. It's still very wooly and wild to me, but I find that writing about ballet and writing about music have very similar problems.

Dance Previews are Resilient Cockroaches: E-mails with Friends

Excerpt from a gchat with K (music editor)

i've started my thesis work...which is on ballet criticism...and it's left me doing a lot of thinking about documenting fleeting moments...not so much theater...but music and dance
those two have a lot in common, i think.
moreso than dance and theater
Kiernan: yes!
11:37 PM me: i've found that my thinking has traced it's path back to questions i had last term
Kiernan: I am very eager to read this.
me: there just have to be better ways into writing reviews
Kiernan: yes
I was literally just talking about this in our meeting today
11:38 PM me: i don't believe that those other ways don't exist
Kiernan: yes
me: what happened?
Kiernan: specifically in this case, I was trying to figure out how we could... write about/chronicle/whatever local shows
11:39 PM I don't know
I have some big ideas about this
it's kind of daunting to think about how to enter here.
what conclusions have you been able to draw so far?
11:40 PM me: i'm coming at it from a design writing perspective. so i'm trying to find design-oriented aspect of ballet in order to find new ways into writing a review
11:41 PM like...instead of writing a review of a one-off Cinderella performance, what if i went to the archives of the royal ballet and did a review of the performance using old theater programs?
or what if i traced the pointe shoes the dancer on stage wears from the beginning of their life in the workshop to the final bow?
so that way i can maybe start asking/answering bigger questions about other parts of ballet...rather than describing
11:42 PM the problem is word count
dance sections are SO limited
and dull
also
i'll have to send you the link when i can find it
there's a woman who is looking into different ways of documenting performance
11:43 PM and she's set up an exhibition of speakers that play people's personal reactions to the performance they just saw...rather than a written text
11:44 PM Kiernan: wow!
me: i mean, is "writing" the right way to document something that can be done without words? and if writing is appropriate, what is the best way to write about it?
Kiernan: I would love to see that
11:45 PM me: i'll find it for you
i need to refind it for me
me: have you come to any ideas/conclusions?
what do the writers think?
Kiernan: oh this was an editor meeting
me: ahh okay
11:51 PM what did they think?
Kiernan: and my boss went on a tirade about fluffy Q&As and the cockroach like resilience of our current show preview format.
11:52 PM which I agree with, but that's a pretty huge, pretty separate issue at the moment.
me: ahh man the preview
bleurgh
yeah that is pretty separate though
11:53 PM i don't think you could tackle both in the same way
i think i'll start describing dance previews as resilient cockroaches
Kiernan: probably should

Being Angry: Snippets of E-mails to friends

To K:

Have you come to any fast conclusions on the review? I'm working on a proposal today and sending lots of questions out to critics. It makes me angry that I see ballet making quiet but significant changes. Why aren't reviews changing with it? Why are reviews even written for shows that are completely sold out before they begin? Why are reviews even written for an art that is passed down orally, performed without words, and lacks a written history? What good is description when ballet companies now film their performances and post them online? Over and over, I sense that the definition of 'critical' has been misplaced. I tell myself it's about showing, not telling. And not showing the aesthetic of the performance, but showing — through the performance — the big ideas and questions ballet faces. It makes me angry when I read reviews in the Guardian or any newspaper that are needlessly descriptive. They are the wordled mirror of the performance itself. What does that add to the art? Has criticism become it's own art rather than a way of furthering another? So many, many questions. I think it's good, though, that I'm angry. It means something's not right. Are you angry? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

E-mail to Dad: Cinderella

Dad:
How was Cinderella?!

Me:

The hall of the Royal Opera House is steep and circular. Hundreds of seats rise in five levels and seem to wrap up against the ceiling. Looking up, the effect is ominous, claustrophobic. Glance down at the first level, and the seats are as tightly packed as they come. You can tell the red velvet chairs were designed for smaller bodies: An oversized sausage of a woman tries not to move. She looks tense — unprepared for the sardine-like seating. After all, opera houses were meant for the well-fed to watch the performance of the starving artists.


We paid significantly less to have seats without armrests. They are in the corner on the balcony level. We think the view will be obscured, but we soon find out that the great thing about crummy seats is that they aren't attached to the floor. We scoot our chairs up to the balcony and lean over slightly. Perfect view. The musicians in the pit are tuning. Below the evening hum of the audience, you can pick out a faint, familiar line from the Prokofiev's score. There are eight-or-so cellists in the orchestra. Unexpectedly, I long for my own.


Before the lights are dimmed, a small girl — maybe 11 or 12 — wiggles in her seat and sits cross-legged while she talks at her dad. She wears a grey velvet dress and black patent-leather mary jane shoes. Instantly, I am transported to the audience of Annie Get Your Gun. I am in my sapphire-blue dress and black patent-leather shoes. You're there next to me, and I am still luxuriating in the cheesecake we ate earlier. I am frustrated with myself for not taking you up on your offer to get my hair done at the St. Regis salon. That was a tough lesson in learning when to not be reasonable on vacations. I try to remember how the Broadway show began. It's at the edge of my memory when the curtain rises and the orchestra starts. The music is an instant trigger back to rehearsals in Gladstone. Saturdays when I didn't know if I'd ever stop sweating. Expensive turquoise costumes that I hung in the bathroom to steam while the shower was on. The steps I thought I'd never think about again are back. My dormant muscles are awakened. They know the dances I learned and watched. They know that music by heart.


Thinking about this reminds me of something I recently read. Ballet companies have no way of recording dances in a form that everyone can understand. Some can hire notators who write in a specific dance language, which few people can read. Most companies rely on the oral tradition of passing a ballet down from director to dancer. The ballet Giselle has been passed down this way since 1841. The problem is that steps and movements and meaning are lost in every translation and re-translation of the piece. The meaning and steps are only as accurate as the mediator's — the director's — memory allows. So some companies seek out dancers within the troupe with impeccable memories. These ballerinas are charged with the task of learning hundreds of dances and teaching them to younger generations. Because dancers train in a way that prioritizes quick memorization, their bodies also work as stores for the dances they learn. After not having danced a certain part for years, most ballerinas can dance the part when they music plays. For them, music and movement are intrinsically tied.


There aren't any real surprises in this version of the ballet. Cinderella is a classic that the ballet critics dread reviewing. It's a cash cow for companies, and because of this, vulnerable dance organizations don't want to risk reinterpreting something that isn't broken. The choreography, costumes, scenes and story rarely change.


But the step-sisters in the ballet are by far the funniest characters. They are two male dancers — danseurs — in drag, and they're hams. They don't wear pointe shoes, but instead wear gold, heeled shoes that they clomp and stomp. They aren't as mean as I expected them to be. Cinderella is just as lovely, though. And the fairies appear, the pumpkin that turns into a carriage — it's all live magic. You wonder why you ever needed words to tell this story. The dancers take you with them. It's a fairy tale we all know, but Tom and I liked revisiting it this way.

Crisis of Criticism: Short, draft thoughts

From the introduction:


"The rising significance of community-based cultures, the increased targeting of niche markets, the dissolution of the boundaries between high and low culture, and the concomitant ethic and geographic diversity of audiences for culture have lessened and even delegitimized the need for dominant, centralized critical voices."


Response:


I can see how, 14 years later, this works into what's going on with ballet. Why does ballet criticism exist when there are resources like the Ballet Bag? The 'webzine' has a section for ballet newbies and also caters content to the dancers themselves. They reach a range, but use a friendly, conversational tone. They do speak critically about ballet, but articles have more permanence. It's not just about reviewing one performance. In their review of Manon, they give themselves the space to talk about what makes a killer performance. It's different for everyone, but it's nice to see a critic (or dance writing) be so transparent. I wonder if the Ballet Bag people would call themselves critics?


I think now is a really important time for ballet. Writers should be taking advantage of the spotlight ballet has been thrown into. They should be using reviews as a way to write about bigger issues. Most of the performances will have already happened by the time most get around to reading the reviews. Most of the performances are sold out anyway. I understand the need to be descriptive, but most ballet companies are filming their work anyway (take Alice in Wonderland at the Royal). What's wrong with linking to a slideshow or sample of the music, and using the rest of the word count to talk about a bigger issue that is at stake?


Alice seemed like a great opportunity to talk about the challenge of the story ballet, or the financial constraints of making new work. Instead, we just got words like "family friendly" and "dazzling."


Additionally, Manon could have been reviewed with the idea of exploring stage chemistry. How cool would it have been to see an accompanying slideshow of great stage pairs? Or, how could you sell Manon to an inexperienced audience today? It's sexy and dramatic — it definitely has cultural relevancy. Why not write 10 Reasons you should see Manon?