This week's programme at the National Ballet is devoted to the works of the American choreographer, William Forsythe. The title of the programme, Physical Thinking, aptly summarizes the art of this dance maker, whose works not only challenge the physicality of the dancers but equally challenge the audience to greater involvement in the dynamics of the performance. In this sense, Forsythe stands light-years away from the classical tradition in which the entire company strikes and holds an elegant pose while watching one or two dancers show off their virtuoso skills.
This programme was one of the shortest ballet programmes I've ever attended at the National, lasting for barely 90 minutes including the intermission. Despite its brevity, this show definitely lived up to my expectations for mind-stretching, unexpected dance.
One of the three works, The Second Detail, was created on a commission from the National Ballet back in 1990, and has been revived several times since, the last occasion being in 2014. The other two works on this programme, The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude and Approximate Sonata 2016, were company premieres, originally created on other companies, but being performed here by the National Ballet for the first time.
As is to be expected, with an artist of Forsythe's fertile and experimental imagination, no two of these works resembled each other in any way, other than the odd passing detail.
Actually, though, my day began a lot sooner than the pre-show Ballet Talk at 1:15 pm. The National Ballet annually holds a "Class on Stage" day, open to the public. The daily class is a sacrosanct ritual of classical (and many modern) dance companies. Part stretch and warm-up, part skills drill, part focusing and immersion ritual, it's the root of the rigid discipline that governs all aspects of classical ballet performance. Normally it's held in a studio at the beginning of each working day, but on this day the class is held on the stage of the Four Seasons Centre at 10:30 am, and audience members can buy tickets to come and watch. So I did.
The Class on Stage was narrated by Associate Artistic Director Christopher Stowell, who spent much of the 75 minutes answering questions from the audience between the instructions given to the dancers by class teacher Rex Harrington. However, there's not much one can say about the institution of company class that hasn't been said a million times before -- so I'll simply state that it was, as always, an intriguing learning experience for me, and with that pass on to the actual performance in the afternoon.
The pre-show Ballet Talk, delivered by Ballet Master Lindsay Fischer, included an audience participation segment. In this, the seated audience were invited to learn, bit by bit, a sequence of arm movements which were a simplified version of choreography in The Second Detail. At the intermission, the audience participation was expanded into a circle dance in the lobby (purely voluntary, but great fun either to try or to watch) in which audience members working with company members learned some simplified leg and body movements to go along with the previously learned arm moves. It added a whole new dimension of involvement when we then got to see the pros on stage doing the full-on version of what we had tentatively explored for ourselves!
In my mind, William Forsythe has always been associated with modernism, so I was startled -- to say the least -- when the curtain rose for The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude on the energetic finale of Schubert's Great C Major Symphony, danced by a small ensemble of three women in classical-style flat tutus and two men in tights and leotards. Further, the choreography at first gave the impression of being in a fairly strict classical vocabulary. That was, of course, until one realized that nearly every phrase of the music accompanied at least one movement that subverted classical discipline. The "line", so beloved of the classical style, kept getting bent out of shape for a moment here or there, by a bent leg, an oddly-positioned arm, a curving back -- you get the idea.
Anyone familiar with Schubert's music can readily picture the immense energy this piece summoned from the dancers, who spent a fair portion of the 12 minutes flying hither and thither at frenetic speed. I was amused to note that in a few spots the dancers had to do rapid foot movements which followed the endless chains of four-note ostinati in the violins. By the end, it was obvious that the title referred to the thrill of dancing, or watching someone dance, with such boldness, vigour, precision, and not a little tongue in cheek.
Approximate Sonata 2016 couldn't have given a greater contrast. Here the choreography largely left the classical poise and line in the dust. The dance is divided into 5 "sonatas", each one a pas de deux with 1 and 5 danced by the same pair, while 2, 3, and 4 were each taken by a different couple. I put the word "sonata" into quotation marks here, because the electronic score by Thom Willems took tedium to new depths in my experience. Mostly, it consisted of quiet, heartbeat-like rhythmic sounds which continued apparently ad infinitum, while fragmentary musical notes of one timbre or another appeared, grew, dwindled, and vanished again in no apparent relationship to the beats. I can only guess at the challenge for the dancers of trying to count rhythmic periods in a score where nothing ever seems to change.
The biggest problem for me in this work was the off-putting quality of the music. If, as Fischer had said pre-show, part of Forsythe's intention was to break down the fourth wall and engage the audience more directly, then this piece was a monumental flop. Like any heavy-duty application of monotony in performance, it had the effect of pushing me farther away rather than drawing me in. It was far too easy to check out of the performance altogether, and for me that's what ended up happening.
No such problems with The Second Detail. I've always felt that this work really should be called The 4,387th Detail, because there is such an enormous diversity and quantity of activity on the stage throughout the ballet's 25-minute span. Dancers come and go from a row of chairs across the back wall, getting up or sitting down at random. Other dancers emerge from the wings, shooting across the stage in complex combinations, or just as casually turn and walk off. Groups form, do their thing, and disperse again. Some of the dance is very classical in style, while others parts feature a much more angular modernity.
Counting like crazy must be the rule here too, because there can be so many different things happening at one moment. Merely keeping up with the multiple flows of action is a challenge for the onlooker.
This time, the electronic score by Thom Willems has much more musical substance, with prominent rhythmic and melodic features alike. This characteristic amply supports the diversity of classical and modern styles in the choreography.
If there's any doubt that Forsythe likes to get people's attention by pulling their legs, this ballet sets those doubts to rest. As the curtain goes up, a white sign with the word "THE" printed on it rests on the floor, front and centre. At the very end, as the final group of dancers heads upstage towards the chairs, one turns back and casually kicks the sign face down on the floor -- and blackout!
The quality of the dancing, not least the sheer headlong velocity of much of the dancing in the first and last ballets, made this a memorable programme indeed. The teamwork and energy among the dancers was outstanding from start to finish.
I think, though, that I would pass on any future opportunity to see Approximate Sonata 2016 again.
As is to be expected, with an artist of Forsythe's fertile and experimental imagination, no two of these works resembled each other in any way, other than the odd passing detail.
Actually, though, my day began a lot sooner than the pre-show Ballet Talk at 1:15 pm. The National Ballet annually holds a "Class on Stage" day, open to the public. The daily class is a sacrosanct ritual of classical (and many modern) dance companies. Part stretch and warm-up, part skills drill, part focusing and immersion ritual, it's the root of the rigid discipline that governs all aspects of classical ballet performance. Normally it's held in a studio at the beginning of each working day, but on this day the class is held on the stage of the Four Seasons Centre at 10:30 am, and audience members can buy tickets to come and watch. So I did.
The Class on Stage was narrated by Associate Artistic Director Christopher Stowell, who spent much of the 75 minutes answering questions from the audience between the instructions given to the dancers by class teacher Rex Harrington. However, there's not much one can say about the institution of company class that hasn't been said a million times before -- so I'll simply state that it was, as always, an intriguing learning experience for me, and with that pass on to the actual performance in the afternoon.
The pre-show Ballet Talk, delivered by Ballet Master Lindsay Fischer, included an audience participation segment. In this, the seated audience were invited to learn, bit by bit, a sequence of arm movements which were a simplified version of choreography in The Second Detail. At the intermission, the audience participation was expanded into a circle dance in the lobby (purely voluntary, but great fun either to try or to watch) in which audience members working with company members learned some simplified leg and body movements to go along with the previously learned arm moves. It added a whole new dimension of involvement when we then got to see the pros on stage doing the full-on version of what we had tentatively explored for ourselves!
In my mind, William Forsythe has always been associated with modernism, so I was startled -- to say the least -- when the curtain rose for The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude on the energetic finale of Schubert's Great C Major Symphony, danced by a small ensemble of three women in classical-style flat tutus and two men in tights and leotards. Further, the choreography at first gave the impression of being in a fairly strict classical vocabulary. That was, of course, until one realized that nearly every phrase of the music accompanied at least one movement that subverted classical discipline. The "line", so beloved of the classical style, kept getting bent out of shape for a moment here or there, by a bent leg, an oddly-positioned arm, a curving back -- you get the idea.
Anyone familiar with Schubert's music can readily picture the immense energy this piece summoned from the dancers, who spent a fair portion of the 12 minutes flying hither and thither at frenetic speed. I was amused to note that in a few spots the dancers had to do rapid foot movements which followed the endless chains of four-note ostinati in the violins. By the end, it was obvious that the title referred to the thrill of dancing, or watching someone dance, with such boldness, vigour, precision, and not a little tongue in cheek.
Approximate Sonata 2016 couldn't have given a greater contrast. Here the choreography largely left the classical poise and line in the dust. The dance is divided into 5 "sonatas", each one a pas de deux with 1 and 5 danced by the same pair, while 2, 3, and 4 were each taken by a different couple. I put the word "sonata" into quotation marks here, because the electronic score by Thom Willems took tedium to new depths in my experience. Mostly, it consisted of quiet, heartbeat-like rhythmic sounds which continued apparently ad infinitum, while fragmentary musical notes of one timbre or another appeared, grew, dwindled, and vanished again in no apparent relationship to the beats. I can only guess at the challenge for the dancers of trying to count rhythmic periods in a score where nothing ever seems to change.
The biggest problem for me in this work was the off-putting quality of the music. If, as Fischer had said pre-show, part of Forsythe's intention was to break down the fourth wall and engage the audience more directly, then this piece was a monumental flop. Like any heavy-duty application of monotony in performance, it had the effect of pushing me farther away rather than drawing me in. It was far too easy to check out of the performance altogether, and for me that's what ended up happening.
No such problems with The Second Detail. I've always felt that this work really should be called The 4,387th Detail, because there is such an enormous diversity and quantity of activity on the stage throughout the ballet's 25-minute span. Dancers come and go from a row of chairs across the back wall, getting up or sitting down at random. Other dancers emerge from the wings, shooting across the stage in complex combinations, or just as casually turn and walk off. Groups form, do their thing, and disperse again. Some of the dance is very classical in style, while others parts feature a much more angular modernity.
Counting like crazy must be the rule here too, because there can be so many different things happening at one moment. Merely keeping up with the multiple flows of action is a challenge for the onlooker.
This time, the electronic score by Thom Willems has much more musical substance, with prominent rhythmic and melodic features alike. This characteristic amply supports the diversity of classical and modern styles in the choreography.
If there's any doubt that Forsythe likes to get people's attention by pulling their legs, this ballet sets those doubts to rest. As the curtain goes up, a white sign with the word "THE" printed on it rests on the floor, front and centre. At the very end, as the final group of dancers heads upstage towards the chairs, one turns back and casually kicks the sign face down on the floor -- and blackout!
The quality of the dancing, not least the sheer headlong velocity of much of the dancing in the first and last ballets, made this a memorable programme indeed. The teamwork and energy among the dancers was outstanding from start to finish.
I think, though, that I would pass on any future opportunity to see Approximate Sonata 2016 again.
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