Quantum Leaps
Powder, E=mc², The Centre and its opposite
Birmingham Royal Ballet
Sadler’s Wells Theatre
10-14 November, 2009
by Judith Cruickshank
copyright 2009 by Judith Cruickshank
On a brief visit to London last week Birmingham Royal Ballet showed two programmes; artistic director David Bintley’s reworked version of his full-length Cyrano and a mixed bill which consisted of a revival of Stanton Welch’s Powder, Garry Stewart’s The centre and its opposite, first given as part of the company’s small-scale tour last season and a new piece by Bintley himself: E=mc²; surely the world’s most famous equation.
Powder, E=mc², The Centre and its opposite
Birmingham Royal Ballet
Sadler’s Wells Theatre
10-14 November, 2009
by Judith Cruickshank
copyright 2009 by Judith Cruickshank
There has been a trend among UK choreographers in recent years to draw themes from science. Rambert artistic director Mark Baldwin was among the first with a commission from the Institute of Physics; Constant Speed. This was followed by a piece for the company’s current tour based on Darwin’s theory of evolution, no less. Students from Laban will take over the Royal Observatory to perform a “dance and music spectacular to coincide with the appearance of the Leonid meteor shower”. And programme notes for Wayne McGregor’s pieces are notoriously so stuffed with scientific jargon as to be less comprehensible to the average spectator than an academic paper.
Translating pure science into movement is not easy and I would be willing to wager that without reading the programme notes it would be hard to discern the inspiration for most of these ballets. To a degree the same can be said of Bintley’s new piece but he has sensibly divided his work into four distinct sections, each with a title which is clearly reflected in the choreography.
Energy opens with a group of dancers seen in silhouette. Their arms shoot upwards and then out, fingers fluttering. The group breaks apart and the dancers speed over the darkly illuminated stage, moving swiftly, always using the classical vocabulary. There is a taut, spikey central pas de deux, danced at the performance I saw by Nao Sakuma and the highly promising Aaron Robison, still only a first artist. The effect is of ceaseless, explosive movement – a strong contrast with the calm pace of Mass, the second section.
This starts with a brief glimpse of a woman, seemingly floating in mid air, but it becomes apparent that she is one of three women, each held aloft by a pair of men who manipulate them gently and slowly through complex trios and pas de deux. Next comes Manhattan. A crimson panel of light is echoed by the scarlet fan held by a dancer in a flowing kimono of pure white – the Japanese colour of death – and white painted face. Slowly she twists and turns, the scarlet fan and the trailing black hair of her medieval-style wig the only splashes of colour on the deathly white. As she fades into the background comes the sound of a massive explosion.
Several writers have criticized this brief episode as being an unwelcome interruption to the flow of the ballet as a whole, or of trivializing the effects of the bombs dropped as the result of the Manhattan Project. To my mind, as danced by Yijing Zhang, it was an effective and chilling reminder of how great discoveries can be put to good or bad uses. It also serves to provide a welcome change of pace before the final movement; Celeritas.
This is the Latin word for swiftness and in Einstein’s equation stands for the speed of light. Fast and light it is too, with the dancers tripping around the stage led by a seemingly tireless couple – Momoko Hirata and Kosuke Yamamoto until the whole scene ends in a maelstrom of brightness,.
This is a departure for Bintley who, of late, has been mainly associated with full evening narrative works or classical showcases, and with this latest ballet he demonstrates that he can make classical technique look as new as next week. He has been well served by his collaborators too. Matthew Hindson’s specially written score is both attractive and effective, Kate Ford has provided handsome costumes, and Peter Mumford’s elaborate and beautiful lighting plot deserves a review to itself.
Powder, which opened the evening, is possibly the least musical ballet I have ever seen. Danced to the Mozart A major clarinet concerto, (excellently played by soloist Ian Scott and the Royal Ballet Sinfonia) it certainly has a step or gesture for every note, but none appears to have any connection to the music, other than occurring at the same time.
It was danced far better than it deserved to be, the women led by Sakuma as the girl who dreamed she danced at Sadler’s Wells in her Maidenform bra and Matthew Lawrence, at the head of a pack of young men leaping around in pastel coloured underpants.
Translating pure science into movement is not easy and I would be willing to wager that without reading the programme notes it would be hard to discern the inspiration for most of these ballets. To a degree the same can be said of Bintley’s new piece but he has sensibly divided his work into four distinct sections, each with a title which is clearly reflected in the choreography.
Energy opens with a group of dancers seen in silhouette. Their arms shoot upwards and then out, fingers fluttering. The group breaks apart and the dancers speed over the darkly illuminated stage, moving swiftly, always using the classical vocabulary. There is a taut, spikey central pas de deux, danced at the performance I saw by Nao Sakuma and the highly promising Aaron Robison, still only a first artist. The effect is of ceaseless, explosive movement – a strong contrast with the calm pace of Mass, the second section.
This starts with a brief glimpse of a woman, seemingly floating in mid air, but it becomes apparent that she is one of three women, each held aloft by a pair of men who manipulate them gently and slowly through complex trios and pas de deux. Next comes Manhattan. A crimson panel of light is echoed by the scarlet fan held by a dancer in a flowing kimono of pure white – the Japanese colour of death – and white painted face. Slowly she twists and turns, the scarlet fan and the trailing black hair of her medieval-style wig the only splashes of colour on the deathly white. As she fades into the background comes the sound of a massive explosion.
Several writers have criticized this brief episode as being an unwelcome interruption to the flow of the ballet as a whole, or of trivializing the effects of the bombs dropped as the result of the Manhattan Project. To my mind, as danced by Yijing Zhang, it was an effective and chilling reminder of how great discoveries can be put to good or bad uses. It also serves to provide a welcome change of pace before the final movement; Celeritas.
This is the Latin word for swiftness and in Einstein’s equation stands for the speed of light. Fast and light it is too, with the dancers tripping around the stage led by a seemingly tireless couple – Momoko Hirata and Kosuke Yamamoto until the whole scene ends in a maelstrom of brightness,.
This is a departure for Bintley who, of late, has been mainly associated with full evening narrative works or classical showcases, and with this latest ballet he demonstrates that he can make classical technique look as new as next week. He has been well served by his collaborators too. Matthew Hindson’s specially written score is both attractive and effective, Kate Ford has provided handsome costumes, and Peter Mumford’s elaborate and beautiful lighting plot deserves a review to itself.
Powder, which opened the evening, is possibly the least musical ballet I have ever seen. Danced to the Mozart A major clarinet concerto, (excellently played by soloist Ian Scott and the Royal Ballet Sinfonia) it certainly has a step or gesture for every note, but none appears to have any connection to the music, other than occurring at the same time.
It was danced far better than it deserved to be, the women led by Sakuma as the girl who dreamed she danced at Sadler’s Wells in her Maidenform bra and Matthew Lawrence, at the head of a pack of young men leaping around in pastel coloured underpants.
The Centre and its opposite belongs to the fast and furious, high extension and out-thrust hip school of choreography. There’s nothing especially wrong with it, and it boasts one truly spectacular moment which Dusty Button, who joined the company only last year, hurls herself across the dimly lit stage in a no-hands cartwheel. And wearing point shoes too! But that moment apart, I’m not sure that it would repay repeated viewing, unlike E=mc² which I suspect has plenty more to show us.
Photo: Artists of Birmingham Royal Ballet in 'Energy' photo: Roy Smiljanic
