‘Interesting undulations’
Aaron S. Watkin, English National Ballet’s artistic director, rather loosely bunches together three disparate works under the banner of rhythm. He might have tried equally vague themes such as bodies or light, yet the varied undulation is interesting.
Midway through (two intervals – eyes roll into my frontal lobe) is Micaela Taylor’s Bow Out, and every dancer earns their bow and then some by the end. Having just created a piece for Paris Opera Ballet, she is riding high on her moment as a choreographer, and we can see why, with her commercial and hip-hop roots coming together so cleanly with her later balletic and contemporary dance training. Our penguin-suited dancers are nothing like the waddling aquatic birds. Inspired by the 1943 film Stormy Weather (especially the Jumpin’ Jive number), featuring the dynamic duo the Nicholas Brothers, this clutter of jazz, ballet, swing, old Hollywood glamour and acrobatics is a group exploration of… you guessed it… rhythm, but more interestingly of the interplay between dance’s different camps. Fred Astaire and George Balanchine (a less tenuous link to come), along with Michael and Janet Jackson, were inspired by the swinging arms and flying feet of these 40s stars.
Lip sync, mic work and Candice Mac’s imitation silver-screen set could all seem too much like parody – a little dance-does-decadence – but through Tru’s skittering blend of genres (given whoop by the English National Ballet Philharmonic) the piece’s performative lightness swiftly slips away. As the dancers line up, they each get to the mic, attempt a stylised action, then shed their tails, the starkness of the white shirts and the unveiling tying into the exploration of fame, stardom and the moves we make towards success. What a funky and frenetic premiere!
Finally (after the second unnecessary interval) we are treated to another premiere, choreographer Jae Man Joo’s Auguries of Innocence, based on the William Blake poem. Left are the strings that give shuddering life to Pēteris Vasks’ Musica Dolorosa and Musica Serena in all their sad minimalism. Thomas Mika lunges into high drama with set and costume: a dystopian cityscape smoulders in blacks and greys, while the spirit of nature, in tattered fronded trousers, long black locks and stark face paint, stalks the stage alone. Naked-looking forms contort and clamber over one another, dragging and pulling at this maenad. Elsewhere, militaristic, industrial, almost fetish wear and many-tentacled trousers drive home the idea of nature and humanity’s incompatibility. Dominant and defiant, the bodies shift between resistance and repentance, never still, never relenting.
Kicking off the evening is the best known, Symphony in Three Movements by George Balanchine. Igor Stravinsky’s slicing, sporadic and chopping composition was conceived as a symphonic work and is enjoyable as such. Rarely performed outside the US (I can see why), this is one of Balanchine’s leotard ballets, from 1972. Stark, experimental and unconnected, it has a physical precision I appreciate: the 32 dancers extending tight arms, almost saluting, lines of white-clad sticks with hair in tight ponytails like a jagged row of teeth, gnashing down through the aimless score. Appreciate it I may, but enjoy it is beyond me.
Despite the vague links, Watkin has brought together different angles on that slippery creature we call dance, all embodied with thundering power from the musicians below and pummelling pointe from the dancers above. “Long live art in all its swishing legs and flaring toes,” I mutter under my breath as the final interval (the end) begins.
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