Dada Masilo’s “Swan Lake”
Dada Masilo
Joyce Theater
New York, NY
February 6, 2016
by Martha Sherman
copyright © 2016 by Martha Sherman
Re-choreo- graphing “Swan Lake” takes either chutzpah or courage. South African dancer/ choreo- grapher Dada Masilo demonstrated a bit of both in her one-hour version, changing story elements, characters, musical styles and meaning to press a modern agenda. Masilo shortened and shifted the Western ballet classic, lacing it with South African dance movement, and turned her version into a story of homosexual love and homophobia. Given these focuses, you might expect this to be at least as serious a piece as the original. Think again. Although there were some dark scenes, Masilo framed her tale with a slapstick lecture on the audience experience of ballet, and through gentle mockery and jest, Masilo’s “Swan Lake” engendered laughter as often as reflection.
Photo: Craig Arnolds and Songezo Mcilizeli (L to R) and cast in "Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake." Photo © John Hogg.
The dancers were powerful, both in their ballet moves (many) and their South African moves (more.) Bare-footed, the troupe of swans entered to a fast, thrumming version of Tchaikovsky’s familiar score. In an immediate detour from the traditional classic, though, the swans who entered were men, bare-chested and tutu-bedecked, their muscular arms lifting and settling in familiar (but larger) wing-like movement. The male swans were joined by females as well, and the flock turned their backs and began to wriggle in a hip-shaking move that turned the tutus into wildly gyrating feathers, and filled the stage with muscular, tribal energy. It was exciting and sassy rather than elegant, a tradeoff that was made throughout this populist piece. The music, too, shifted episodically (and not always smoothly,) sometimes Tchaikovsky, then bouncing to Saint-Saens, Rene Avenant, Arvo Part, and Steve Reich.
The Master of Ceremonies, Nicola Haskins (who also danced the role of Siegfried’s Mother,) offered a patter about the silliness of ballet, while the cast highlighted illustrative examples. Haskins described a classical ballet pattern as: “surplus girls in moonlight…the Nobody Loves Me fold-up… and, after the fall-back (in the duet,) the F&W – fireworks and weightlifting – duet, then multiple twiddles, and ballet ends.” One of Haskins’ descriptors, of “seaweed arms, like waving stuff,” came to mind frequently, watching Masilo’s take on the the winged arms of “Swan Lake.”
All of the ballet elements described by Haskins were included in this version. The surplus girls (swans) were joined by surplus men (swans,) and the selection of one of the swan girls – Masilo – by Siegfried’s eager parents (Haskins and Kyle Rossouw) resulted in Masilo doing the dance equivalent of squealing in delight in a wildly athletic celebration, extravagant facial expression, African calls. At one point, the joyous shout “I can do that!” rang out, and the dance was punctuated by a mid-air split and multiple bare-foot pirouettes.
The flock shimmied and fluttered (the other girls clearly disappointed that they had not been chosen – the “no-one-to-marry-me” moment that Haskins also described in her framing lecture.) Unlike the romantic role of a classical Odette, Masilo’s hops, twists, and gleeful proud expression weren’t about romantic attachment, but about the moment of success – she had scored. Siegfried (Thabani Ntuli,) barely noticed his bride, and, in fact, any of the candidates might have been chosen for him; none stood out in the flock before Masilo was chosen. He noticed, though, when Amazon-like Odile, Thamsanqa Tshabalala, oozed across the stage, tall, muscular, and powerful, and the men’s eyes locked.
Masilo used all her wiles to partner with a disinterested Ntuli. She squiggled and postured, her chest thrust forward like a preening bird. Cheeky and full of herself, her hips rippled, punctuated by a beautiful arabesque here, and seaweed arms there. She demanded of Siegfried the famous raised two-finger love-pledge, and he reluctantly complied (as she melted into her own version of the even more famous “nobody loves me fold-up” of the White Swan,) but the pledge clearly wasn’t from his heart.
Siegfried’s true love was Tshabalala’s Odile, not the black swan dark side of Odette, but a towering figure in his own right, beautiful and male. In their yearning duet, Tshabalala danced in the only pointe shoes of the evening, adding even more height and majesty to his movement. Looming over the smaller Siegfried, their duet lifts shifted, first Tshabalala raising smaller Ntuli over his shoulder. Later, though, a melting Tshabalala slid sadly into the “fall-back” on his smaller, but supportive prince partner.
As arranged marriages do, the wedding went on, despite the groom's objection. On the crowded stage, flailing turns with high raised knees were a tribal celebration; straight balletic legs and pointed toes had no more place here than still balances. This wedding was all jiggles, waves, and body gyrations to a score that riffed on Tchaikovsky but felt no allegiance there. When the swans ostracized Tshabalala, and Ntuli finally proclaimed his love, chaos (and parental homophobic distress) ensued.
Probably no scene is better known in “Swan Lake” than that of the dying swan. In Masila’s version, this scene was called “Swanicide,” and was the death of the entire flock. Instead of tutus, the costumes were now long black skirts. The love triangle danced together, Masila now dancing bare-chested with her male partners, and the sensuous lines of hips, powerful arms, and quavering backs were all African. In an echoing move that returned from earlier scenes, their arms flailed, winding a long circle around their entire bodies, until slapping their own backs. It was a gentle self-flagellation of resignation. The flowing black skirts, finally, were much more elegant than the shivering tutus, and the African gestures so suited the final tragedy.
The mix of slapstick and tragedy was not entirely successful; there was too much of a gap in emotional expectation. The roaring standing ovation by this audience, though, suggested that Masilo had certainly hit a nerve.
Photos:
Top: Dada Masilo in "Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake." Photo © John Hogg.
Bottom: Songezo Mcilizeli, Bothlale Dokobe in "Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake." Photo © John Hogg.
copyright © 2016 by Martha Sherman
The Master of Ceremonies, Nicola Haskins (who also danced the role of Siegfried’s Mother,) offered a patter about the silliness of ballet, while the cast highlighted illustrative examples. Haskins described a classical ballet pattern as: “surplus girls in moonlight…the Nobody Loves Me fold-up… and, after the fall-back (in the duet,) the F&W – fireworks and weightlifting – duet, then multiple twiddles, and ballet ends.” One of Haskins’ descriptors, of “seaweed arms, like waving stuff,” came to mind frequently, watching Masilo’s take on the the winged arms of “Swan Lake.”
The flock shimmied and fluttered (the other girls clearly disappointed that they had not been chosen – the “no-one-to-marry-me” moment that Haskins also described in her framing lecture.) Unlike the romantic role of a classical Odette, Masilo’s hops, twists, and gleeful proud expression weren’t about romantic attachment, but about the moment of success – she had scored. Siegfried (Thabani Ntuli,) barely noticed his bride, and, in fact, any of the candidates might have been chosen for him; none stood out in the flock before Masilo was chosen. He noticed, though, when Amazon-like Odile, Thamsanqa Tshabalala, oozed across the stage, tall, muscular, and powerful, and the men’s eyes locked.
Masilo used all her wiles to partner with a disinterested Ntuli. She squiggled and postured, her chest thrust forward like a preening bird. Cheeky and full of herself, her hips rippled, punctuated by a beautiful arabesque here, and seaweed arms there. She demanded of Siegfried the famous raised two-finger love-pledge, and he reluctantly complied (as she melted into her own version of the even more famous “nobody loves me fold-up” of the White Swan,) but the pledge clearly wasn’t from his heart.
Siegfried’s true love was Tshabalala’s Odile, not the black swan dark side of Odette, but a towering figure in his own right, beautiful and male. In their yearning duet, Tshabalala danced in the only pointe shoes of the evening, adding even more height and majesty to his movement. Looming over the smaller Siegfried, their duet lifts shifted, first Tshabalala raising smaller Ntuli over his shoulder. Later, though, a melting Tshabalala slid sadly into the “fall-back” on his smaller, but supportive prince partner.
Probably no scene is better known in “Swan Lake” than that of the dying swan. In Masila’s version, this scene was called “Swanicide,” and was the death of the entire flock. Instead of tutus, the costumes were now long black skirts. The love triangle danced together, Masila now dancing bare-chested with her male partners, and the sensuous lines of hips, powerful arms, and quavering backs were all African. In an echoing move that returned from earlier scenes, their arms flailed, winding a long circle around their entire bodies, until slapping their own backs. It was a gentle self-flagellation of resignation. The flowing black skirts, finally, were much more elegant than the shivering tutus, and the African gestures so suited the final tragedy.
The mix of slapstick and tragedy was not entirely successful; there was too much of a gap in emotional expectation. The roaring standing ovation by this audience, though, suggested that Masilo had certainly hit a nerve.
Photos:
Top: Dada Masilo in "Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake." Photo © John Hogg.
Bottom: Songezo Mcilizeli, Bothlale Dokobe in "Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake." Photo © John Hogg.
copyright © 2016 by Martha Sherman