Royal Ballet (live broadcast), 16/05/2019
Within the Golden Hour (chor. Wheeldon, mus. Bosso/Vivaldi)*
Medusa (chor. Cherkaoui, mus. Purcell/Wojciechowska)º
Flight Pattern (chor. Pite, mus. Górecki)†
Vasko Vassilev, violin*
Ailish Tynan, sopranoº
Tim Mead, counter-tenorº
Francesca Chiejina, soprano†
Artists of the Royal Ballet
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Andrew Griffithsº
Jonathan Lo*†
This was a strongly contrasted selection of 21st Century ballets, the oldest of which is only just over 10 years old. This was Christopher Wheeldon's Within the Golden Hour, created originally for San Francisco Ballet, but brought into the Royal Ballet's repertory in 2016, and for its revival this season, given a production makeover. A very lovely one too; the costumes, diaphanous, shimmering, champagne colour, by Jasper Conran, are gorgeous, and the lighting evocative. It's a completely abstract piece, seven couples, of which three are principals, and it plays out almost concerto grosso style, with the principal couples as ripieno, against the tutti of the other four. Each of the principal pairings has a pas de deux, all very different in style from each other, from playful to soulful, and it is set to a score by Italian composer Ezio Bosso, partly inspired from Vivaldi. Bosso's style is broadly what used to be called minimalist, and therefore, unless that's a type that drives you completely up the wall, quite easy on the ear. This particular score was for strings only, with a prominent solo part for the orchestra's leader, Vasko Vassilev. With Lauren Cuthbertson unable to appear, the second couple tonight were Francesca Hayward and Valentino Zucchetti; I have to say that of the three pas de deux, this was the one I found the least engaging. Beatriz Stix-Brunell and Vadim Muntagirov were delightful in the first one, a quirky little waltz, while Sarah Lamb and Alexander Campbell suspended time in their duet. On the whole, this is a light, joyful piece, and given a sparkling performance.
Medusa is a new commission by the Royal Ballet from Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, his first work for this company. As the title suggests, it's a narrative ballet, which was a bit of a surprise from this choreographer, at least in my limited experience of his work. He chose Ovid's version of the legend, which has Medusa as a priestess of Athena, cursed by the goddess for having been raped by Poseidon in Athena's temple, rather than the earlier versions wherein she is born a monster, one of a triad. In the #MeToo era, this certainly had contemporary resonances, but although I really like Cherkaoui's choreography generally, the piece as a whole didn't really carry much emotion. The music was a mix of electronica by Olga Wojciechowska (with whom Cherkaoui has worked before) and Purcell. The Purcell almost inevitably brought to mind the masterly The Moor's Pavane, and some of the choreography here at those moments seemed to share a certain hieratic, ritual quality with Limón's renowned piece, notably the 'curse' scene between Athena and Medusa, and the pas de deux between Perseus and the transformed Medusa. Natalia Osipova was Medusa, intense and expressive as always, and as the transformed Medusa, the movements of her limbs had a magnificently alien quality to them, as if differently-jointed. Olivia Cowley was a stately, implacable Athena, with Ryoichi Hirano as an impassive, uncaring Poseidon, and Matthew Ball an earnest partner as Perseus. There are strong moments, and it's well designed, but there's something lacking at its heart.
Finally, Crystal Pite's Flight Pattern, set to the first movement of Henryk Górecki's 3rd Symphony, the 'Symphony of Sorrowful Songs'. Created by the Royal Ballet in 2017, Pite describes this piece as her reaction to the refugee crisis of the modern world. One of the defining characteristics of Pite's choreography, and possibly the most striking one, is her treatment of the corps de ballet. She has a unique, highly distinctive way of creating mass movement, an eddying current within a large group that is startlingly expressive. The full company, or very nearly, was on stage for this ballet, 36 dancers, but with Pite's way of interweaving lines and blocks, it wasn't 36 people we were seeing, but hundreds, an unending stream of weary, despairing people. Because of the costumes, because the company is predominantly white, because of the connotations of the music, I was reading deportees, rather than refugees, in this wretched, downtrodden crowd, but I suppose that's an arguable issue.
Kristen McNally and Marcellino Sambé were the principal couple for this performance, Sambé's explosive final solo, just as the orchestra is winding down to silence, an eye-popping moment in a work that has been otherwise full of a kind of deep, slow swell, like the movements of the ocean. The company as a whole, though, was clearly wholly committed, and evoked pathos, but never bathos, nor any excess of sentimentality. In presenting triple bills, most often a company will try to send the audience out on an upbeat note, which should have meant ending with the Wheeldon, but anything after Flight Pattern would have seemed almost unbearably frivolous.
[Next : 19th May]
Medusa (chor. Cherkaoui, mus. Purcell/Wojciechowska)º
Flight Pattern (chor. Pite, mus. Górecki)†
Vasko Vassilev, violin*
Ailish Tynan, sopranoº
Tim Mead, counter-tenorº
Francesca Chiejina, soprano†
Artists of the Royal Ballet
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Andrew Griffithsº
Jonathan Lo*†
This was a strongly contrasted selection of 21st Century ballets, the oldest of which is only just over 10 years old. This was Christopher Wheeldon's Within the Golden Hour, created originally for San Francisco Ballet, but brought into the Royal Ballet's repertory in 2016, and for its revival this season, given a production makeover. A very lovely one too; the costumes, diaphanous, shimmering, champagne colour, by Jasper Conran, are gorgeous, and the lighting evocative. It's a completely abstract piece, seven couples, of which three are principals, and it plays out almost concerto grosso style, with the principal couples as ripieno, against the tutti of the other four. Each of the principal pairings has a pas de deux, all very different in style from each other, from playful to soulful, and it is set to a score by Italian composer Ezio Bosso, partly inspired from Vivaldi. Bosso's style is broadly what used to be called minimalist, and therefore, unless that's a type that drives you completely up the wall, quite easy on the ear. This particular score was for strings only, with a prominent solo part for the orchestra's leader, Vasko Vassilev. With Lauren Cuthbertson unable to appear, the second couple tonight were Francesca Hayward and Valentino Zucchetti; I have to say that of the three pas de deux, this was the one I found the least engaging. Beatriz Stix-Brunell and Vadim Muntagirov were delightful in the first one, a quirky little waltz, while Sarah Lamb and Alexander Campbell suspended time in their duet. On the whole, this is a light, joyful piece, and given a sparkling performance.
 |
| Sarah Lamb and Alexander Campbell Within the Golden Hour (© Tristram Kenton, 2019) |
Medusa is a new commission by the Royal Ballet from Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, his first work for this company. As the title suggests, it's a narrative ballet, which was a bit of a surprise from this choreographer, at least in my limited experience of his work. He chose Ovid's version of the legend, which has Medusa as a priestess of Athena, cursed by the goddess for having been raped by Poseidon in Athena's temple, rather than the earlier versions wherein she is born a monster, one of a triad. In the #MeToo era, this certainly had contemporary resonances, but although I really like Cherkaoui's choreography generally, the piece as a whole didn't really carry much emotion. The music was a mix of electronica by Olga Wojciechowska (with whom Cherkaoui has worked before) and Purcell. The Purcell almost inevitably brought to mind the masterly The Moor's Pavane, and some of the choreography here at those moments seemed to share a certain hieratic, ritual quality with Limón's renowned piece, notably the 'curse' scene between Athena and Medusa, and the pas de deux between Perseus and the transformed Medusa. Natalia Osipova was Medusa, intense and expressive as always, and as the transformed Medusa, the movements of her limbs had a magnificently alien quality to them, as if differently-jointed. Olivia Cowley was a stately, implacable Athena, with Ryoichi Hirano as an impassive, uncaring Poseidon, and Matthew Ball an earnest partner as Perseus. There are strong moments, and it's well designed, but there's something lacking at its heart.
 |
| L. to R. : Natalia Osipova, Olivia Cowley, Matthew Ball. Medusa (Tristram Kenton, 2019) |
Finally, Crystal Pite's Flight Pattern, set to the first movement of Henryk Górecki's 3rd Symphony, the 'Symphony of Sorrowful Songs'. Created by the Royal Ballet in 2017, Pite describes this piece as her reaction to the refugee crisis of the modern world. One of the defining characteristics of Pite's choreography, and possibly the most striking one, is her treatment of the corps de ballet. She has a unique, highly distinctive way of creating mass movement, an eddying current within a large group that is startlingly expressive. The full company, or very nearly, was on stage for this ballet, 36 dancers, but with Pite's way of interweaving lines and blocks, it wasn't 36 people we were seeing, but hundreds, an unending stream of weary, despairing people. Because of the costumes, because the company is predominantly white, because of the connotations of the music, I was reading deportees, rather than refugees, in this wretched, downtrodden crowd, but I suppose that's an arguable issue.
 |
| The Royal Ballet Company in Flight Pattern (Tristram Kenton, © 2017) |
Kristen McNally and Marcellino Sambé were the principal couple for this performance, Sambé's explosive final solo, just as the orchestra is winding down to silence, an eye-popping moment in a work that has been otherwise full of a kind of deep, slow swell, like the movements of the ocean. The company as a whole, though, was clearly wholly committed, and evoked pathos, but never bathos, nor any excess of sentimentality. In presenting triple bills, most often a company will try to send the audience out on an upbeat note, which should have meant ending with the Wheeldon, but anything after Flight Pattern would have seemed almost unbearably frivolous.
[Next : 19th May]