In a stunning world premiere last weekend, the National Ballet of Canada set before the public a production which can fairly be described as a work of genius -- about genius.
Frame by Frame unites the choreography of Guillaume Coté and the staging of Robert Lepage into a remarkable tribute to Canada's genius of film animation, Norman McLaren. Befitting the subject, this performance breaks rules and bends genres on all sides, resulting in an entirely new form of dance theatre. You can hardly even call Frame by Frame a "ballet", although ballet lies at its heart in more ways than one.
The result is a complex tapestry in which segments of dance illustrating key events in McLaren's life and career are interwoven with more abstract segments inspired by -- or re-enacting -- scenes from some of his films. Other scenes feature actual projections of the films themselves on either a backdrop or a front scrim. With one brief exception, the recorded music tracks throughout the performance all derive from the assorted McLaren films.
These diverse elements certainly don't break down into such neat compartments during the actual presentation -- they flow smoothly into and out of and around each other in a way that words can only dimly convey. Dealing with choreography first is purely a matter of my authorial convenience.
Guillaume Coté has used a vivid assortment of modern dance ingredients and movements in staging this multi-layered dance theatre work. Much of the choreography is lively, vivid, energetic, even bouncy, and great fun to watch. This piece does not shirk the opportunity to create humour and to evoke laughter in the audience.
Good examples included the summer cottage scene, the scene of the creation of Begone Dull Care with guest artist Wellesley Robertson as a wildly energetic Oscar Peterson at a pseudo-piano desk, and the re-enactment of Neighbours with Dylan Tedaldi and Skylar Campbell as the two erstwhile friends turned psychotic killers. In Neighbours and A Chairy Tale, Coté has created excellent choreographic equivalents for the more conventional movements of the original film actors, while still conveying the extraordinary energy of the film.
On a partly reflective, but also partly comic level, was the early scene in which the Sadler's Wells Ballet was performing Swan Lake -- the night at which McLaren (Jack Bertinshaw) met Guy Glover, the man who would be his life partner right up until his death 50 years later (Félix Paquet). The two men wove their way on stage around the dancers portraying the Prince and the Swan, symbolising the key role that ballet would continue to play in their lives. An uncommonly thoughtful and thought-provoking conception.
All of this dancing, remember, is only a part of what we saw. Director/designer Robert Lepage and his colleagues at Ex Machina studios created an extraordinary and diverse range of stagings and technical effects to highlight the story and to aid in recreating the imaginative and unique atmospheres of McLaren's films.
Dancers in black under black lights manipulated the energetic chair in A Chairy Tale and bars of lights in another fascinating sequence which I couldn't identify by name. Filmed backdrops supported Neighbours and the cottage scene. The rolling desk-turned-piano became almost like another character in Begone Dull Care. The Swan Lake sequence was staged facing away from us, complete with "footlights" and a row of "audience" facing us from the back of the stage.
The emotional climax of the entire work came in the penultimate scene, a re-creation of McLaren's inspired ballet film, Pas de Deux. Heather Ogden and Harrison James danced with all of the fluid motion which is so much a part of the original film. Not having watched the film for many years, I can't say if Coté used any of Ludmila Chiriaeff's original choreography, but the spirit of the dance was unquestionably right on target.
It was Lepage's contribution which made this scene utterly magical. Using cameras and computers, the team was able to recreate in live motion the stunning multiple images which make that film such an extraordinarily beautiful work of art. Combined with the haunting soundtrack of strings, harp, and pan flute, this scene was so breathtaking that I didn't want it to end -- ever.
Except for one minor detail. Frame by Frame is staged without an intermission, and by this time we were nearing the two-hour mark and I was finding the prolonged sit a little onerous. But I absolutely forgot all about my aching fundament during that heart-tugging Pas de Deux.
I can readily imagine that Frame by Frame will be controversial in some quarters. Ballet traditionalists may balk at the incorporation of so much technological wizardry. Film purists may object to the re-imagining or shortened versions of McLaren's inspirations.
My response is simple: the complainers missed the boat. McLaren was a lifelong lover of the ballet, often spoke of his films in balletic terms, and made three ballet films using live dancers. Best to let McLaren address the issue in his own words: "Film is a form of dance."
Whether this work points the way to the future of ballet is too soon to tell. That we will only know in retrospect, years later. In a world where more and more creative artists are bursting the traditional boundaries of their art to fuse with other artistic disciplines, this work is absolutely on point (pun intended). It's also a great, entertaining, and beautiful artistic creation in its own right, thanks to the three foundations on which it stands. Frame by Frame is a winner.
Frame by Frame unites the choreography of Guillaume Coté and the staging of Robert Lepage into a remarkable tribute to Canada's genius of film animation, Norman McLaren. Befitting the subject, this performance breaks rules and bends genres on all sides, resulting in an entirely new form of dance theatre. You can hardly even call Frame by Frame a "ballet", although ballet lies at its heart in more ways than one.
The result is a complex tapestry in which segments of dance illustrating key events in McLaren's life and career are interwoven with more abstract segments inspired by -- or re-enacting -- scenes from some of his films. Other scenes feature actual projections of the films themselves on either a backdrop or a front scrim. With one brief exception, the recorded music tracks throughout the performance all derive from the assorted McLaren films.
These diverse elements certainly don't break down into such neat compartments during the actual presentation -- they flow smoothly into and out of and around each other in a way that words can only dimly convey. Dealing with choreography first is purely a matter of my authorial convenience.
Guillaume Coté has used a vivid assortment of modern dance ingredients and movements in staging this multi-layered dance theatre work. Much of the choreography is lively, vivid, energetic, even bouncy, and great fun to watch. This piece does not shirk the opportunity to create humour and to evoke laughter in the audience.
Good examples included the summer cottage scene, the scene of the creation of Begone Dull Care with guest artist Wellesley Robertson as a wildly energetic Oscar Peterson at a pseudo-piano desk, and the re-enactment of Neighbours with Dylan Tedaldi and Skylar Campbell as the two erstwhile friends turned psychotic killers. In Neighbours and A Chairy Tale, Coté has created excellent choreographic equivalents for the more conventional movements of the original film actors, while still conveying the extraordinary energy of the film.
On a partly reflective, but also partly comic level, was the early scene in which the Sadler's Wells Ballet was performing Swan Lake -- the night at which McLaren (Jack Bertinshaw) met Guy Glover, the man who would be his life partner right up until his death 50 years later (Félix Paquet). The two men wove their way on stage around the dancers portraying the Prince and the Swan, symbolising the key role that ballet would continue to play in their lives. An uncommonly thoughtful and thought-provoking conception.
All of this dancing, remember, is only a part of what we saw. Director/designer Robert Lepage and his colleagues at Ex Machina studios created an extraordinary and diverse range of stagings and technical effects to highlight the story and to aid in recreating the imaginative and unique atmospheres of McLaren's films.
Dancers in black under black lights manipulated the energetic chair in A Chairy Tale and bars of lights in another fascinating sequence which I couldn't identify by name. Filmed backdrops supported Neighbours and the cottage scene. The rolling desk-turned-piano became almost like another character in Begone Dull Care. The Swan Lake sequence was staged facing away from us, complete with "footlights" and a row of "audience" facing us from the back of the stage.
The emotional climax of the entire work came in the penultimate scene, a re-creation of McLaren's inspired ballet film, Pas de Deux. Heather Ogden and Harrison James danced with all of the fluid motion which is so much a part of the original film. Not having watched the film for many years, I can't say if Coté used any of Ludmila Chiriaeff's original choreography, but the spirit of the dance was unquestionably right on target.
It was Lepage's contribution which made this scene utterly magical. Using cameras and computers, the team was able to recreate in live motion the stunning multiple images which make that film such an extraordinarily beautiful work of art. Combined with the haunting soundtrack of strings, harp, and pan flute, this scene was so breathtaking that I didn't want it to end -- ever.
Except for one minor detail. Frame by Frame is staged without an intermission, and by this time we were nearing the two-hour mark and I was finding the prolonged sit a little onerous. But I absolutely forgot all about my aching fundament during that heart-tugging Pas de Deux.
I can readily imagine that Frame by Frame will be controversial in some quarters. Ballet traditionalists may balk at the incorporation of so much technological wizardry. Film purists may object to the re-imagining or shortened versions of McLaren's inspirations.
My response is simple: the complainers missed the boat. McLaren was a lifelong lover of the ballet, often spoke of his films in balletic terms, and made three ballet films using live dancers. Best to let McLaren address the issue in his own words: "Film is a form of dance."
Whether this work points the way to the future of ballet is too soon to tell. That we will only know in retrospect, years later. In a world where more and more creative artists are bursting the traditional boundaries of their art to fuse with other artistic disciplines, this work is absolutely on point (pun intended). It's also a great, entertaining, and beautiful artistic creation in its own right, thanks to the three foundations on which it stands. Frame by Frame is a winner.
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