My holidays are over. A month's layoff for Christmas celebrations and visits, and a holiday in Florida, and I'm back on my self-appointed critic's soapbox once again.
It's always fascinating to me to attend a premiere of a new work, of any kind. Since I try to avoid reading in advance about such things, I can settle into my seat full of anticipation, and facing a stage which is -- in effect -- a blank slate. What will the creator of the new work do with this opportunity?
Last night, I was fortunate to be able to attend a performance of no less than five new dance works, as the final stage of this year's Choreographic Workshop at the National Ballet of Canada.
A bit of information about the workshop: the company members who choose to participate as choreographers, and the members who choose to participate as dancers, all do so voluntarily. They willingly sacrifice time on weekends and lunch hours to create new works -- all in addition to their regular "day jobs" as dancers in the company. A team of three experienced choreographers works with the participants to facilitate the creative process.
Over a period of considerably more than a year, a number of new works get tried out, workshopped, and developed to varying degrees. They may be shown as works-in-progress before a small invited audience. As this development process nears completion, some of the choreographers will volunteer to have their work staged in this final performance (some of the choreographers are only interested in the process, and not in showing their work before an audience).
Conflict of Interest Alert: Last year, I attended one of those works-in-progress sessions, and last night I got to see a much more developed version of the same work. No bonus points will be awarded to any of my faithful readers who guess that the choreographer of that work was my nephew, Robert Stephen.
The "fascination frantic" in this particular dance anthology (as with all of the National Ballet's premiere works) is the fact that the dances are being created on members of a classical ballet company. Thus, no matter how "modern" the choreographer's own outlook may be, the results are almost certain to become infused with at least a dash here or a smidgen there of classical practice. One of the intriguing aspects of last night's show was the varying degree of this cross-fertilization which took place across the scope of the evening.
The other intriguing aspect of the programme was the presence of choreographers from outside the National Ballet, who were also invited to put themselves forward as candidates for this workshop. Several did so, and two presented their works last night.
[1] When the Wind Comes
Choreographer Hanna Kiel staged a haunting pas de deux in three sections, inspired by the theme of coping with grieving the loss of a loved one. The first and third sections were set to music by Ezio Bosso, while the middle portion had a voice-over spoken text. Jenna Savella and Kota Sato danced with a great deal of fire and energy, but also found a softer edge and more through line in the quietly expressive final section. The work as a whole dug into a deep vein of emotional truth in dealing with Kiel's chosen theme. I felt the strongest emotional affinity and absorption in this, of all the pieces staged.
[2] Suite in Old Style
Choreographer Robert Stephen was drawn to the eponymous musical work by Dobrinka Tabakova, and used the first two movements of Tabakova's suite to create a diptych. I use that term, because of the great contrast in styles between the two sections of the dance, a contrast which mirrored the stylistic contrasts in the music. As a whole, I felt that this work came closest to heeding Balanchine's advice to "dance the music" -- not that the results bore any resemblance to Balanchine's work. The first movement of the music was primarily in the "old style," and the choreography mirrored that with a stylized folk-dance feeling prominent -- although one or another dancer occasionally fell out of the dance, and out of style with the others. That stylistic disconnect was fulfilled in the second movement, where the overall dance language became much more modern, and much more dreamlike too. Eight dancers formed the ensemble of this work.
[3] 3[4]
Choreographer Elena Lobsanova tried to elucidate her work with some written commentaries about the three danced sections and the brief motionless epilogue. The commentary, however, was so cryptic as to add only a further, unhelpful layer of mystery. I spent far too much time and mental energy trying to connect what I was seeing to what I had read rather than just watching and absorbing. Two sections were set to the hypnotic music of Arvo Pärt; the third and fourth relied on the slow central passage from the finale of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. The work provided an interesting diversity of dance movements, but the overall link connecting the dances together remained, for me, somewhat obscure. While four dancers participated, it was Stephanie Hutchison's solo in the third section that proved most rewarding for me.
[4] In Between
By this point, I had stopped reading the choreographers' programme notes. Ideally, I should have done it earlier! Choreographer Alysa Pires had the benefit of a fine original score by Adam Sakiyama, which was both musically effective in itself and broadly supportive of her team of four dancers. In this work, the four dancers formed and reformed frequently into pairs, ensembles, and soloists, with the partnering and movement styles alike changing very quickly at times. Some moments in this work briefly touched in an electrical charge of erotic energy. Of all the works, this was the one where I felt that I missed the most detail, and would have welcomed a second viewing just to get a better grip of everything that happened.
[5] Grey Verses
Choreographer Brendan Saye had the advantage of a live music score, with pieces by Debussy, Corigliano, and Rachmaninoff played by violinist Andréa Tyniec and pianist Edward Connell. The central section of this three-part work brought a highly-charged, angular solo from Dylan Tedaldi, and this was what mostly remained in mind at the end. Overall, here was another work where the music and choreography remained for the most part clearly related to each other.
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A few final observations: I would have enjoyed a chance to see the entire programme again, but with the order varied. The cramped seating was playing havoc with my knees by the time we got to the fourth work, and I would have liked to see the last two works in particular when I was fresher and feeling less jammed into the small space.
Programme notes ideally should be a little more detailed and less cryptic. We don't need a book, but a little clarity would do no harm. Some of the notes were more helpful than others.
The question-and-answer session at the end was both enjoyable and informative. A little more input from the facilitators about their role in the process would be informative too.
Overall, a fascinating evening of new works, with wonderful variety in approach, styles, and thinking from the five choreographers. Sign me up for next year!
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