November 22, 2009

Critique : De Balanchine à McGregor, quelques torsions

Agon / Sphinx / Limen
Balanchine / Tetley / McGregor
Royal Ballet
Royal Opera House, Londres
18 novembre 2009

Le Royal Ballet n’ignore pas l’une des recettes les plus fréquentes des soirées mixtes : un grand classique, une œuvre qui a fait ses preuves, et une création mondiale. La compagnie l’appliquait à la lettre cet automne avec un programme venu s’insérer entre La Belle au bois dormant et Casse-Noisette – une touche de vingtième siècle bienvenue, mais qui reste une parenthèse plus ou moins naturelle pour les danseurs. Si Agon a quelque chose d’incongru dans ce contexte, l’étrangeté devient beauté dans Sphinx et Limen – le temps de quelques interprétations.

Le Balanchine d’Agon n’est sans doute pas celui qui va le mieux au Royal Ballet. Ascétique à l’extrême avec ses simples justaucorps noirs et son fond bleu, l’œuvre exige une concentration absolue sur la partition de Stravinsky, dont elle tire l’intégralité de ses moyens. Malheureusement, la compagnie anglaise possède une musicalité veloutée qui s’en accommode mal, elle qui arrondit les angles et adoucit les accents – manque la pointe de danger, l’ultime ingrédient moderne. Dans le premier pas de trois, Samantha Raine et Yuhui Chœ n’ont pas tout à fait quitté Petipa et leurs oripeaux de fées, même si Ivan Putrov s’acquitte de sa tâche à leurs côtés. Mara Galeazzi, dans le tableau suivant, passe légèrement à côté de la musique, malgré un style approprié. Cet Agon valait pourtant pour le pas de deux final de Melissa Hamilton et Carlos Acosta, tout en tensions, dans laquelle la jeune soliste se joue du sous-texte érotique face à un partenaire autrement plus expérimenté. Certainement moins anglaises que balanchiniennes, sa technique et son audace en scène devraient faire parler d’elle.

Contrairement au chef-d’œuvre éprouvé qu’est Agon, le Sphinx créé en 1977 par Glen Tetley a déchaîné les passions. Pourquoi une telle entrée au répertoire, alors que beaucoup jugent son esthétique datée? Cette œuvre inspirée par La Machine infernale a pourtant des qualités, et s’est révélée être un fascinant véhicule pour son trio de danseurs. Soit le second acte de la pièce de Cocteau, et son explication de la victoire d’Œdipe sur le Sphinx ; celui-ci devient un être féminin gardé par le dieu Anubis qui, lassée de son existence, tombe amoureuse d’Œdipe et lui donne la réponse à l’énigme. Marianela Nuñez est un Sphinx de toute beauté, dont la puissance mi-humaine mi-animale fait exister l’œuvre – l’Œdipe de Rupert Pennefather est à la fois proie et objet de désir pour cet être indéfinissable, aux lignes de panthère. Edward Watson flirte avec les limites de l’humanité dans le rôle de l’implacable Anubis. Ce Sphinx n’insiste pas sur la narration, mais son interprétation cynique et ouverte du mythe a des affinités passionnantes avec Cocteau et propose une danse expressionniste devenue rare aujoutd’hui. (…)

» La critique complète sur ResMusica

Melissa Hamilton et Carlos Acosta dans Agon (Balanchine) © Bill Cooper

Melissa Hamilton et Carlos Acosta dans Agon (Balanchine) © Bill Cooper





October 15, 2009

Review: The Mysterious Ways of Diaghilev

In the Spirit of Diaghilev
Dyad 1909 / AfterLight / Afternoon of a Faun / Eternal Damnation to Sancho and Sanchez

Wayne McGregor / Russell Maliphant / Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui / Javier de Frutos
Sadler’s Wells, London
October 13, 2009

If the Centenary of the Ballets Russes was to achieve something this year, it might be to remind artistic directors of their creative mission. Aside from reconstructions of period works, there have been few really adventurous choreographic ventures in the ballet world to celebrate the legendary company. Diaghilev was not a creator himself, but his gift for bringing together artists of different horizons and successfully direct their collaboration was one of the chief ingredients of a seminal period in dance. Alistair Spalding, at Sadler’s Wells, remembered this and brought together four famed choreographers for a rare mixed bill. Wayne McGregor, Russell Maliphant, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Javier de Frutos all contributed premieres alluding to Diaghilev’s heritage, and the facet they each chose to highlight said much about their own creative process.

Wayne McGregor is hardly channeling the great tutelar figure in Dyad 1909, the first part of a diptych to be completed with a creation in Melbourne. As is usual with this choreographer, the visual concept relies heavily on technology – three sets of screens are alternatively used as a cold background and as a vehicle for arty videos that have the distracting effect of neon lighting. A polar bear makes an apparition at the beginning, but what follows is a dance frenzy that bears a clear resemblance to Genus or Entity, both recent creations. The composer, Ólafur Arnalds, has devised some beautifully atmospheric moments, but Wayne McGregor only hints at the poetry he could draw from the music. Meaningful images come and vanish immediately in the general outpouring of movement. His dancers are highly trained – why then so often limit partnering, for instance, to supported splits ? Admittedly, his signature hip placements do at times evoke Antarctic penguins, but Wayne McGregor was once again here working in the spirit of McGregor – and he might achieve so much more if he didn’t.

Vaslav Nijinsky dans Le Spectre de la Rose - © Life/E.O.Hoppe

Vaslav Nijinsky in Le Spectre de la Rose - © Life/E.O.Hoppe

Russell Maliphant and Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, on the other hand, premiered two highly original works in the second part of the evening. Maliphant’s AfterLight is especially stunning in its inventivity – billed as a solo to Satie’s Gnossiennes, often used by choreographers, it takes Vaslav Nijinsky’s sketches and paintings as starting point for a reflection on light, sculpture and curves. Daniel Proietto is the moving statue – starting in a circle of light in the centre that gradually expands and changes. Michael Hulls and Es Devlin’s fascinating animated lighting seems to engage in a dialogue with him, alternatively drawing him in, serving as pedestal, and moving away from his body. Proietto, in turn, draws every curve of the Nijinsky-inspired forms Maliphant uses before breaking out of them, of the stillness of the statue. The sense of loss in the moment of silence between each Gnossienne beautifully contrasts this ecstasy of form – until the lone figure, dressed in casual clothes, returns to his strange realm of absolute fluidity.

Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, as far as he is concerned, set himself the difficult task of re-choreographing a Ballets Russes work, the erotic Afternoon of a Faun. Both Nijinsky and Jerome Robbins have created versions that live on, and one wondered if anything more was to be be done with Claude Debussy’s lush score. Cherkaoui certainly doesn’t try to revolutionize the concept, and it looked like the right option on the first night. What he does is bring a specific movement quality into the equation, which in a sense relates to Maliphant’s – the lines stretching and flowing, uninterrupted, in never-ending curves. Centre stage, James O’Hara is an alien of a faun, all instincts and animal grace, his platinum hair contrasting with his nymph’s dark waves. Both share a very sensual way of moving, and the central pas de deux saw them merge naturally, as equals, into one fascinating animal. They roll, play, ultimately part, leaving behind the enduring image of a summer forest at dusk. The only discordant element is the additional music by Nitin Sawhney, that does little for the overall mood set by Debussy – Afternoon of a Faun bears new choreography well enough on its own.

The final piece clearly aimed to become the scandal of the evening, a purpose silly enough to make Eternal Damnation to Sancho and Sanchez fall flat. Javier de Frutos had carefully selected his ingredients though : a hunchbacked caricature of a Pope, an altar boy (can you guess what ensues ?), Apolon and three very pregnant muses. Most of them will be explicitly raped to a litany of Santa Maria in a piece that contains very little dancing besides the overt violence. De Frutos claims to have been inspired by the scenarios of Jean Cocteau and by Diaghilev’s taste for the odd scandal, but pleased as he may be with the booing he received, he forgot that the riots at the Ballets Russes came along with art. Amuse me, the neon lights above the Pope read, and Javier de Frutos is the jester here – in a world that so often goes for shock value, Eternal Damnation is but a good laugh for the audience, at best.





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