Misty Copeland debuts as Aurora

The Sleeping Beauty. The Australian Ballet, Capitol Theatre, Sydney, November 22.

With her unstinting advocacy for greater diversity in ballet, Misty Copeland’s fame extends well beyond the stage. She is a drawcard no matter what the repertoire.

Copeland’s appearances in Sydney aren’t her first in Australia. Three years ago she danced in Brisbane with her home company, American Ballet Theatre, where later she became ABT’s first African-American principal artist. It’s worth noting she made her highly newsworthy role debut as Odette-Odile in Swan Lake in Brisbane.

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Misty Copeland. Photo: Jade Young

Her second visit to this part of the world brought another important role debut, that of Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. This time she was a guest with The Australian Ballet in the visually splendid production created in 2015 by the company’s artistic director, David McAllister and regularly revived. Copeland was greeted like a rock star by an excited capacity audience, which was captivated by her vivacity and great personal charm.

The conquest of Aurora was less fully achieved in this fairy tale of good prevailing over evil, order restored and a prince’s kiss sealing the deal. (McAllister takes a brisk approach to the work.) Copeland was an alert and good-humoured young princess on her birthday and approached a more serene grandeur in the climactic wedding pas de deux, shedding the slight but palpable tension of the first act. There was, nevertheless, an overall sense of containment, seen in the restrained use of her back instead of the plush sweep that speaks so eloquently of love and a sense that her energy stopped neatly at the fingertips when she was poised on pointe.

Copeland shone brightly in motion with delectable cut-glass footwork and luxurious arms but her radiance was not the mysterious, all-enveloping kind that takes heart and soul prisoner.

Artists of The Australian Ballet in David McAllister's The Sleeping Beau...

The Australian Ballet’s The Sleeping Beauty, designed by Gabriela Tylesova

Kevin Jackson is TAB’s prince du jour and put in a blinder, partnering Copeland with gorgeous gallantry and tearing up the stage in his Act III solo with a blisteringly fast circle of jetés. Conductor Philip Ellis favoured sprightly tempi and Tchaikovsky’s score sounded marvellous in the hands of the Opera Australia Orchestra but there was the occasional loss of breathing space for the dance to really bloom.

Of the others, Marcus Morelli and Jade Wood had an excellent night as Bluebird and Princess Florine, with Wood particularly fetching. She’s more relaxed now than when she first took on the role and the freedom is exhilarating. It lets her fly.

The opulence of Gabriela Tylesova’s designs always makes McAllister’s production a treat to behold although there remains a lingering sense that a court of such magnificence really should have a hell of a lot more nobles, courtiers, attendants and functionaries to hand. Still, The Sleeping Beauty looked right at home in TAB’s temporary Sydney home, the ornate Capitol Theatre, while the Joan Sutherland Theatre at the Sydney Opera House  undergoes renovation. It would be good to see more of the company’s bigger productions there (Christopher Wheeldon’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is seen at the Capitol shortly, and can be programmed in Sydney only because the JST is closed).

There was more international stardust at the end of the Sydney season when ABT and Bolshoi Ballet principal David Hallberg returned to dance Prince Désiré with TAB star Amber Scott as he did in February in Brisbane at the beginning of The Australian Ballet’s year. Hallberg is practically part of the family, of course, becoming a resident guest artist with the company after recuperating under the care of its rehabilitation specialists when he had a potentially career-ending injury. The ballet world thanks them.

2 One Another, Sydney Dance Company

Roslyn Packer Theatre, Sydney. October 5.

Sydney Dance Company artistic director Rafael Bonachela clearly adores 2 One Another. Made in 2012, it was revived in 2013, 2014 and 2015, is much travelled and this season celebrates its 100th performance by making its first reappearance in Sydney. Next stop is Shanghai.

Audiences love it too, and why not? It’s a glamorous production that shows the full company in ferocious form. Just when you think the SDC dancers couldn’t possibly look more magnificent, more dynamic, more super-human, they do.

Sydney Dance Company's 2 One Another. Photo by Peter Greig

Sydney Dance Company in 2 One Another (earlier cast). Photo: Pedro greig

There are only six dancers of SDC’s current complement of 16 who were in the original cast but Bonachela chooses his company members well. The youngest of them haven’t yet fully developed the combination of intensity, muscularity and sophistication that the more experienced dancers wear like a second skin but they add other colours. Their hunger for the work is palpable and rather touching.

It’s a beautiful thing to see three young men, Sam Young-Wright, Izzac Carroll and Nelson Earl, growing into themselves. Young-Wright and Carroll are tall and rangy and both still have a coltish air about them; Earl brings a sense of danger to the stage. Each has a distinct personality.

Tony Assness’s design, Nick Wales’s music and Benjamin Cisterne’s lighting work together brilliantly to create a highly charged sensory experience and Bonachela’s choreography is intricately detailed and patterned. Those 16 amazing dancers are pushed to the limit and beyond in a complex weave of group dynamics, duos and solos.

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Current cast of Rafael Bonachela’s 2 One Another. Photo: Pedro Greig

The title of the work is illustrated in the opening moments. Most of the dancers stand close to one another, flanked on one side by a solo figure and on the other by a seated duo. All are dressed similarly in form-fitting dark green with mesh inserts and, as lights flash and unsettling music thunders, they gesture in unison. The unanimity doesn’t hold and soon the piece is off and running.

Partnerships form, dissolve and reform differently, echoed by changing paintings in light on the huge LED screen at the back of the stage. For some sections the music moans and groans like a living creature while others moments are bathed in the aural glow of the Baroque and the Renaissance. The score also incorporates some spoken word in the form of poetry fragments by Samuel Webster.

It’s hard to decipher all of Webster’s contribution in the sound mix and greater access to it would have been useful.

The 2012 program prints some of Webster’s lines and they speak of great intimacy. Bonachela writes in his program note (both then and now) that Webster responded to things he saw from the dancers in the rehearsal room at an early stage of development and then later the dancers used his words to create movement. “The text that Samuel created is very beautiful and full of love and emotion and I sought to create movement that explored all those intensities of human interaction,” Bonachela writes.

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Janessa Dufty in 2 One Another. Photo: Pedro greig

For the most part 2 One Another doesn’t achieve that goal. There is so much to stimulate the eye and please the ear that the somewhat cool temperature takes a little bit of time to register, but after perhaps 40 minutes of wonderful dancing one looks in vain for deep human connection. Assness’s CV bulges with creative direction for big events and he knows how to deliver the wow factor. It’s just that 2 One Another could do with a bit less of that.

Individual company members stir the blood, as they always do, although Assness has done his best to impose a degree of anonymity on the dancers by styling them in a way that means you have to look twice and three times at some of them to confirm they are indeed who you think they are.

Still, it’s impossible not to register Janessa Dufty and Charmene Yap in particular (one of Bonachela’s most precious attributes as a choreographer is the equal standing he gives women and men). Dufty and Yap were both in the premiere of this work five and a half years ago and their power and authority are still a joy to see.

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Juliette Barton and Bernhard Knauer in 2 One Another. Photo: Pedro Greig

The same is true for Juliette Barton, who has been with SDC since 2009 and is ever more magisterial as the years go by. Some warmth emerges about two thirds of the way through the 65-minute piece when the dancers appear in looser, red garments and, in a memorable duet, Barton and Bernhard Knauer reach for something beyond exhilarating movement.

Ends October 14.

Under Siege

Yang Liping Contemporary Dance. Brisbane Festival, September 27. Melbourne Festival until October 8.

Yang Liping’s exquisite Under Siege is like the richest of sauces, distilled and reduced until only the essentials remain.

The setting is China about 2000 years ago as one dynasty, the Han, bloodily replaces another. Yang’s episodic, impressionistic work strips away the immensely complicated politics to arrive at a truth as old as time and new as today. Two men with great resources at their command vie for power. One wins; the other dies.

The situation could not be more stark nor the depiction of it more sumptuous. The senses are ravished by a heady mix of contemporary dance, martial arts, traditional Chinese music, Peking Opera and poetic set and costume designs by the masterly Tim Yip.

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Yang Liping Contemporary Dance’s Under Siege. Photo: Ding Yi Jie

Hanging over the stage is American-Chinese artist Beili Liu’s shimmering forest of scissors, inspired by her installation The Mending Project. Hundreds of blades in undulating rows glint in shades of grey and gold as lights play on them. The cutting imagery is echoed by a woman who sits at the side of the stage throughout the performance, fashioning huge Chinese characters from mounds of white paper and holding them up to announce characters or scenes. In Under Siege beauty and death are close companions.

Anonymous combatants clash forcefully and whirl through the air excitingly but are also capable of great delicacy in gliding runs and undulating spines. Their affiliation isn’t clear but it’s not important. A soldier is a soldier. On which side doesn’t matter.

The real action lies with a small group of individuals to whom Yang gives distinctively different movement qualities. Most unforgettable is the concubine Yu Ji, danced by Hu Shenyuan – a man – with extraordinary fluidity and sensuality. For Yu Ji’s first solo Hu is almost naked, quite clearly a male dancer in keeping with Peking Opera tradition but without any of the trappings that might make him appear to be impersonating a woman. Yu Ji is deeply attached to the aristocratic, charismatic Xiang Yu and her fate is bound to his completely. Hu’s plasticity and refinement are enthralling, otherworldly even, and yet lucidly convey this worman’s interior life.

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Yang Liping Contemporary Dance in Under Siege. Photo: Ding Yi Jie

Later, dressed in red, Yu Ji has heart-catchingly tender duets with her doomed lover, danced with much dignity and almost magical physical powers by He Shang, whose standing backflips are performed without apparent preparation. The stockier Gong Zhonghui plays his adversary, Liu Bang, with earthier traits that are sometimes close to buffoonery but with a dangerous edge. A general, Han Xin (danced by Xiao Fuchun), is described as unappreciated and his divided loyalties are shown literally when he is given a sinister, black-clad doppelganger (Ou Yangtian).

Guo Yi’s magisterial narrator speak in the swooping tones familiar from Peking Opera and even when it’s clear he has rather more to say than the surtitles offer, his presence is compelling. On the subject of surtitles, they give a welcome assist to non-Mandarin speakers and those not entirely familiar with Chinese history. (When Under Siege was performed in London last year this help wasn’t available. Much criticism ensued.)

It’s still a good idea to do a little bit of homework to get full value from Under Siege. Or you can sit back and let this extravagantly beautiful, intoxicating experience take you wherever it will.

A version of this review first appeared in The Australian on September 29.

Together Live 2017

Sydney City Youth Ballet with the SYO Philharmonic. The Concourse, Chatswood, Sydney. September 23.

The room is always full of hope and desire when student performers take to the stage, particularly if they are dancers or classical musicians.

Some will have started as young as four or five and certainly by eight or nine. In their early teens they are upping the number of classes they take each week. If they survive the rigours of intense practice and the personal sacrifices required by these all-consuming arts, their late teens see them negotiating the transition from L-plates to a professional career.

Getting in front of an audience is part of the process, hence all those competitions and eisteddfods, but there’s nothing like a proper concert to get the juices flowing for the performers and for those out front. Who doesn’t like getting in on the ground floor of someone’s brilliant career?

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Janae Kerr and Alexander Smith in Les Sylphides. Photo: Winkipop Media

Student dance concerts are almost always staged to the unyielding backdrop of recorded music for understandable economic reasons but the lack of living, breathing, energising music is felt. The inaugural collaboration between Sydney City Youth Ballet and the SYO Philharmonia – Sydney Youth Orchestras’ second-most senior orchestra – was therefore an occasion to cheer and with luck it won’t be a one-off.

The Together Live 2017 program was ambitious, featuring two substantial new works, two orchestral numbers and an appearance by guest artists from Queensland Ballet alongside three classical showcases.

Arranged at the back of the stage, the SYO Philharmonic opened with the third movement of Prokofiev’s Symphony No.1 in D Major “Classical”, with Wim Broeckx’s new work Classical Symphony, arranged to Prokofiev, following.

Broeckx made attractive use of a six-member corps of women, whose entrances, exits and graceful patterns formed an ever-changing backdrop to a series of solos and pas de deux for leading men and women. Alexander Smith, 17, formerly with Sydney’s Tanya Pearson Academy and currently studying in Stuttgart, was a little tested by the fast tempo set by conductor Brian Buggy but showed swift, clean beaten steps.

The other premiere was a two-part contemporary piece by Adam Blanch that took the not-unfamiliar theme of environmental degradation and a collapsing society. An atmosphere of unease was well sustained by the choice of music. Blanch used an electronic score by Seymour Milton for part one, Redemption, following with Peter Sculthorpe’s Earth Cry for the second part, The Sky is Falling, in which the SYO Philharmonic had a big success. After a beginning that was perhaps a little too literal in its depiction of isolation, a large group prowled, gathered, dissipated and reformed, each member ferociously committed to the work.

In between those two works there was the chance to see 18-year-old Cameron Holmes tackle the Le Corsaire pas de deux with apparently serene and absolutely justified confidence. Not once but twice he threw in a clean, high-flying 540, that highly acrobatic aerial move borrowed from martial arts that all the men have co-opted these days, or at least those who appear in splashy party pieces such as this. His partner, Audrey Freeman, had poise and maturity well beyond her years. She is only 14 but also emanated sophisticated mystery in Redemption, as did Aaron Matheson.

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Cameron Holmes in Le Corsaire. Photo: Winkipop Media

In the Les Sylphides pas de deux Janae Kerr, 16, captured the poetic perfume of Mikhail Fokine’s choreography, seen in floaty balances and a melting backbend over her partner Smith’s shoulder.

The glamour quotient was sky-high in the grand pas deux from The Nutcracker in Ben Stevenson’s version, danced by Queensland Ballet and here performed by QB’s Mia Heathcote and Joel Woellner. I’ve seen Stevenson’s production several times in Brisbane but hadn’t registered just how sensual the woman’s choreography is. Heathcote looked divine, luxuriously swaying her spine and curving her neck this way without losing a sense of classical style. Woellner is a strong, fine dancer who at this matinee wasn’t entirely on form. As always he partnered well.

SCYB artistic director Lucinda Dunn suggested in her program note that Together Live 2017 might be only the beginning of the partnership with the SYO. Certainly the name hints at future collaborations and they’d be most welcome.

SYCB is associated with Tanya Pearson Classical Coaching Academy and the acadamy’s general manager, Nicole Sharp, says she and Dunn had long discussed wanting SYCB to perform with an orchestra. Money, as always, was the issue.

The situation changed when a student’s grandfather dropped by Sharp’s office to have a chat. It was Brian Buggy, who has conducted the SYO Philharmonic since 2007. After much discussion with Buggy and SYO chief executive Yarmila Alfonzetti about music and repertoire, the deal was done.

The SYO Philharmonic – a full symphony orchestra with members ranging in age from 12 to 24 – gave a fearless reading of the Prelude of Act II of Wagner’s Lohengrin, which gives the whole orchestra a bracing workout in about three speedy minutes. The brass and winds were particularly effective – the brass terrific in the Sculthorpe too – but there were strong contributions from all sections.

Assassins, Hayes Theatre Co

Hayes Theatre Co, Sydney, September 19.

“I shall be remembered,” cries Charlie Guiteau as he dances his way to the scaffold, singing a plaintive hymn of his own devising. Charlie who? History can be cruel to those who seek to make their mark by whatever means possible. We may remember the effect of their actions but precisely who they were and the reason they did what they did? Not so much.

Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s Assassins (1990) throws together a motley band of successful and would-be killers of US presidents and assesses them against the unforgiving standards of American exceptionalism. “Everybody’s got the right to be happy,” the opening number asserts, by which is meant the right to be noticed, be taken seriously, make a mark, be someone, be famous.

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Bobby Fox and Jason Kos in Assassins. Photo: Phil Erbacher

The right to bear arms makes the pursuit of those goals just that bit easier. Some things never grow old. (Guiteau, by the way, was one of the winners, despatching James Garfield in 1881 partly because Garfield ignored his desire to be US ambassador to France.)

Assassins is explicitly set in a fairground shooting gallery, evocatively designed by Alicia Clements (set and costumes) and Ross Graham (lights) as a dark, seedy dump with touches of tawdry glamour. The action sits outside of time and place. Here, in a hallucinatory present, presidential murderers and wannabes from elder statesman John Wilkes Booth (Abraham Lincoln, 1865) to John Hinckley Jr (Ronald Reagan, 1981) get to explain themselves, mix and mingle a little and maybe get a little understanding.

Dean Bryant’s production of this rarely seen Sondheim comes very close to being great. The crack team includes a terrific five-piece band under Andrew Warboys’s direction and Andrew Hallsworth as the very fine choreographer. The cast couldn’t be better and the staging expertly walks the tightrope between black humour and coruscating anger and back again.

The themes have certainly not worn out their welcome. Like the tolling of a muffled bell, certain words repeat throughout Assassins. “Never, never, never.” “Nothing, nothing, nothing no good.” “No one listens.” “I am nothing.” Not. No. For all their delusions and misguided passions, these flawed souls have a powerful point about life’s injustices.

David Campbell in ASSASSINS (c) Phil Erbacher

David Campbell in Assassins. Photo: Phil Erbacher

It’s just a pity Bryant doesn’t let their carnival masks slip more often. Assassins would be more potent for it. His Little Shop of Horrors, which premiered at the Hayes early last year, was pitch-perfect; Assassins occasionally less than that, including the final image, which offers an easy laugh but not a dramatically satisfying reason for being in a work that gives the deplorables their moment in the sun.

The extraordinary 11-member cast otherwise knocks it out of the park. Each one deserves nothing but superlatives. Kate Cole and Hannah Fredericksen form a wacky double act as Sarah Jane Moore and Charles Manson acolyte Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme. They each attempted to kill Gerald Ford in 1975 within three weeks of each other, as unsuccessful in handling a gun as Ford was in winning respect. Connor Crawford is the unnervingly self-effacing Hinckley, who shot and injured Ronald Reagan in an effort to win Jodie Foster’s attention.

Martin Crewes as Guiseppe Zangara (Franklin D. Roosevelt, 1933) and Jason Kos as Leon Czolgosz (William McKinley, 1901) make their anarchist firebrands worthy of our consideration and compassion. Justin Smith’s tremendously good Samuel Byck (Richard Nixon, 1974) is the epitome of madness masquerading as reason. “I’m talking, you’re listening,” he says. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Well, that’s what they all feel.

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Connor Crawford and Hannah Fredericksen in Assassins. Photo: Phil Erbacher

Newcomer Maxwell Simon is impressive as the sunny balladeer who morphs into Lee Harvey Oswald (John F. Kennedy, 1963) and Bobby Fox’s Guiteau gets the big vaudeville song-and-dance treatment, nailing the number’s frenetic, “it’s showtime” gaiety. Appropriately though, David Campbell (the tightly wound, upright Booth) is first among equals. “The country isn’t what it was,” Booth sings in 1865 and his anguish echoes through the ages.

Rob McDougall gets the show off to a strong start with his laconic, sonorously sung shooting gallery proprietor and Laura Bunting is wonderful in Something just Broke, the song that finally turns the musical’s gaze away from the assassins and towards the ordinary lives they affected.

It’s powerful material despite the occasional clunkiness in Weidman’s book, particularly as Sondheim’s score is hugely effective, co-opting popular musical styles appropriate to each assassin’s era. Good luck with getting Hinckley and Fromme’s soft-rock duet Unworthy of Your Love out of your head.

Tickets: $70-$78. Bookings: hayestheatre.com.au. Duration: 1hr 45mins with no interval. Ends October 22.

The Great Gatsby, West Australian Ballet

His Majesty’s Theatre, Perth, September 14.

Northern Ballet’s artistic director David Nixon is an old and highly successful hand at creating narrative ballets but he gave himself a tough assignment with this one. His 2013 dance translation of The Great Gatsby is entirely faithful to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s best novel while at the same time floating over what really lies at its heart.

Gatsby’s exterior world of frenetic parties and unattainable lovers is eminently stage-worthy and West Australian Ballet looks wonderful in Nixon’s evocation of jazz-age, Prohibition-flouting high society. The frocks are divine, the women glamorous, the men have never seemed sleeker and the 1920s dances are a delight.

Matthew Edwardson and Dancers of West Australian Ballet in The Great Gatsby. Photo by Sergey Pevnev

Matthew Edwardson (front) as Young Gatsby in The Great Gatsby. Photo: Sergey Pevnev

Far more difficult to convey are the fluttering nuances of character and shades of meaning that make the novel such an unsettling picture of a changing country with the post-war jitters.

How to express that Daisy’s voice is “full of money”, as Gatsby puts it? Or that Gatsby was once the impoverished nobody Jimmy Gatz? Or that Nick Carraway is the cousin of Gatsby’s lost love Daisy, and thus is being used by his now fabulously wealthy neighbour? (I am reminded of George Balanchine’s famous assertion that “there are no mothers-in-law in ballet”. Certain specifics of kinship are not easily conveyed wordlessly.)

Fitzgerald describes Gatsby’s fruitless pursuit of Daisy at several removes through Nick’s eyes as he looks back. In its concentration on the surface narrative the ballet loses those layers and Fitzgerald’s mood of evanescence with them, despite Nixon’s repeated flashbacks showing a young Gatsby wooing Daisy. The cartoonish depiction of Gatsby’s mob connections – men slinking about in black trench coats – doesn’t help.

The Great Gatsby nevertheless has much to enjoy, even if it’s advisable for those not steeped in the novel to take a solid look at the synopsis ahead of time.

A lively selection of 1920s-flavoured music by Richard Rodney Bennett, some taken from his film scores, accompanies lots of swiftly changing scenes. The use of a movement from his 1990 Percussion Concerto is particularly effective and Bennett’s history as a jazz pianist informs the score’s best moments. The West Australian Symphony Orchestra, with Myron Romanul at the helm, gave a zesty account of it on opening night.

Melissa Boniface and Dancers of West Australian Ballet in The Great Gatsby. Photo by Sergey Pevnev

Matthew Lehmann (rear) and Melissa Boniface (front) in The Great Gatsby. Photo: Sergey Pevnev

Above all there were terrific performances from all in the first cast, no mean feat when there are nine key characters.

Gakuro Matsui (the elegant, mysterious Gatsby), Chihiro Nomura (careless, feckless Daisy) and Oliver Edwardson (watchful Nick Carraway) were as effective as the limits of their characters allowed. Gatsby is the outsider who stands aloof at his own parties, is seen gazing wistfully across the water at the light on the end of Daisy’s jetty, or remembering his early days with Daisy. It makes him an elusive character, even when he finally gets Daisy in his arms for rapturous pas de deux in both acts. Which is as it should be from the Fitzgerald point of view, even if it makes the role a difficult one onstage.

Matthew Edwardson and Carina Roberts were fresh as the young Gatsby and Daisy while Brooke Widdison-Jacobs was superbly cast as Daisy’s golf-champion friend Jordan Baker, wielding a cool, amused demeanour and long sporty limbs.

The really juicy parts, however, are for Daisy’s unfaithful husband Tom, his lover Myrtle and Myrtle’s husband George. They get to be vividly steamy and sexy. Matthew Lehmann looked super sharp and gave Tom virile presence. He had looked out of sorts earlier in the year in Don Quixote but now seemed refreshed and renewed. Liam Green’s George was urgent with longing for his errant wife and Melissa Boniface was sensational as the passionate, doomed Myrtle. Now here was a character for a dancer to get her teeth into.

The Great Gatsby ends September 30.

A version of this review first appeared in The Australian on September 18.

Swan Lake/Loch na hEala

Teac Damsa, Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House, August 30.

Michael Keegan-Dolan’s Swan Lake is unsparingly black in so many ways, starting with its indelible image of a near-naked, bleating man tethered to a block of concrete. The people in this midlands Irish community are damaged, the humour plentiful but grim and the prospects grimmer.

“Nature is stronger than will,” says the inappropriately named Holy Man (actor Mikel Murfi), describing the appalling event that led to the disappearance of four young women and their transformation into swans. Murfi, our narrator, will later also morph into a despotic county politician and the local law. There’s not much difference between them. They’re all called McLoughlin, petty tyrants each one.

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Michael Keegan-Dolan’s Swan Lake/Loch naEala. Photo: Prudence Upton

The bare surroundings – some scaffolding, a few ladders – speak of the town’s poverty, not just in material things but in spirit. The ghastly birthday party (funny, though) sums things up. It’s thrown by Nancy for her son Jimmy so he might meet a local girl, shake off his depression and get married. Things don’t look promising.

In amongst the wreckage, though, there is great beauty and freedom. Keegan-Dolan’s depiction of abuse and debilitating grief doesn’t deny the harshness of life but he mitigates it with the consolation of optimism. The abiding memories of Loch na hEala are a love duet of exquisite tenderness and white feathers banishing the darkness as music plays and the ensemble dances joyously.

The story of a woman turned into a bird or sea creature is found in many mythologies, including Irish legend. Keegan-Dolan takes from that and is also strikingly faithful to the essentials of the familiar 19th-century ballet version while making them utterly contemporary.

His emotionally frozen anti-hero, Jimmy (Alexander Leonhartsberger), finds release when he meets swan-woman Fionnuala (Rachel Poirier) by the lake. His flinching tentativeness when he first sees Fionnuala is deeply touching and so right. Keegan-Dolan has a splendid eye for detail.

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Rachel Poirier and Alexander Leonhartsberger. Photo: Pridence Upton

Jimmy and Fionnuala can’t escape their fate but they are part of a much larger and longer history of endurance and resilience. Their sublime second pas de deux is an unforgettable paean to the power of love over malignity even as Keegan-Dolan doesn’t shy away from showing the pain that surrounds them.

Keegan-Dolan, who wrote the brilliant text as well as choreographed and directed, blends folk-inspired dance, spoken word and music into a seamless whole. The marvellous trio Slow Moving Clouds plays and sings Celtic and Nordic melodies live and the nine-member dance ensemble makes the heart sing. It’s a pity the season was so brief.

This review first appeared in The Australian on September 1.