Imperial Suite

The Australian Ballet, Brisbane, February 26

THE men of The Australian Ballet get an occasional look-in but the double bill Imperial Suite is really all about the women. In Serge Lifar’s Suite en blanc there is a flurry of white tutus and only one male dance of any substance. In George Balanchine’s Ballet Imperial a leading ballerina, a secondary ballerina and two demi-soloists reign with the backing of several admiring and supportive danseurs.

Laura Tong in Suite en blanc. Photo: David Kelly

Laura Tong in Suite en blanc. Photo: David Kelly

Both are abstract works from the early 1940s over which not the tiniest shadow of world war falls. Their eyes are firmly on the 19th century, which helps account for the female-centric nature. The Balanchine pays homage to the transformative era of Tchaikovsky and Petipa in Imperial Russia and the Lifar is a bouquet to classical technique and the glamour of ballet. Together they present challenges very different from those of the three-act story ballet Manon, which was being staged in Brisbane at the same time.

The AB is trying out a new way of scheduling works – instead of every season being a solid block of performances of a single work there are several seasons that feature two works. To use Sydney as an example, in the past there would be 20 uninterrupted performances of a program, whether it was Swan Lake or a triple bill of contemporary work. Guess which program was more popular? This year there will be bills of newer work that get nine or 10 performances but together form a season of the usual length. A sensible move.

But back to Imperial Suite. Whereas MacMillan’s Manon asks for detailed characterisation in the British tradition of dramatic intensity that is also part of the AB’s heritage, both parts of Imperial Suite are displays of style and personality. Or, to put it another way, the character of the dancers themselves is tested, as is their mettle. Their individual qualities as artists are on display in a mercilessly bright light.

Suite en blanc opens with its full complement of performers seen frozen in a beautifully composed tableaux that never fails to elicit applause and gasps of appreciation. The AB is entirely comfortable with this diverse set of variations to the springy music of Edouard Lalo and glittered away happily at the first performance. Amber Scott, Laura Tong and Daniel Gaudiello shone in their respective solos (Flute, Cigarette, Mazurka) and Ako Kondo’s zesty turn – and her dazzling turns – in the Pas de Cinq were a delight. It is extremely satisfying to see performers who can bring strong individual gifts to a work without blurring its style. Suite en blanc is a white ballet with touches of black, warmed up at this performance by Scott’s other-worldly mystery and beauty, Tong’s womanly warmth, Gaudiello’s exuberance and Kondo’s old-style glamour (I know I keep using that word about Kondo, but it’s a quality not found as frequently at the ballet as you may think).

Rudy Hawkes and Amber Scott in Suite en blanc. Photo: David Kelly

Rudy Hawkes and Amber Scott in Suite en blanc. Photo: David Kelly

The more elusive qualities of Ballet Imperial were not entirely captured at the first performance. The AB performs Balanchine’s first thoughts on this ballet, decking it out in sparkling tutus in homage to Imperial Russia; later Balanchine had it recostumed in simple fashion and titled the work after its music, Tschaikovsky Piano Concerto No.2 (Balanchine preferred this spelling of the composer’s name).

It is such a difficult ballet and only Lana Jones, in the first ballerina role, fully embodied the sophisticated, complex grandeur of the choreography and illuminated the bold drama of Tchaikovsky’s second piano concerto. As the second ballerina Amy Harris was daringly fleet but didn’t project sufficient star wattage and nor did the main cavalier, Adam Bull. He was hampered, however, as were all the men, by costumes that made them look like bellboys at a leading Ruritanian hotel.

Ballet Imperial will undoubtedly get richer performances the more deeply it gets into the minds and bodies of the dancers. The shapes are there, but not a sense that the work is completely understood. All those echoes of Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty have a purpose.

Imperial Suite is a big night musically. It starts with the Tchaikovsky, and in Brisbane Nicolette Fraillon conducted the Queensland Symphony Orchestra in a muscular performance. It is bold music, grand in concept and sweeping in nature. Hoang Pham was the admirable solo pianist. After interval comes Lalo, the music adapted from the unsuccessful ballet Namouna. The music is by turns sexy, witty and rousing, all of it fabulously danceable.

There were just two performances of Imperial Suite in Brisbane, but many more to come in Sydney and Melbourne in May and June.

A version of this review appeared in The Australian on February 28.

Bodytorque.Technique

The Australian Ballet, Sydney Theatre, October 31.

THIS year they called the annual choreographic workshop Bodytorque.Technique. It would have been rather closer to the mark to call it Bodytorque.Influences. Five of the six new works paid such homage to established choreographers you’d think royalties would be in order. But for all the sense there wasn’t a huge amount of originality in movement language, there was a consistently high standard in the work, probably more than in any other year of Bodytorque’s decade-long history. It gave the audience an extremely enjoyable and accomplished evening of dance and the program had consistency and coherence.

The “technique” part of the title steered the choreographers towards a use of classical vocabulary, as it did a couple of years ago when the pointe shoe was the focus of attention. There was no dance theatre or contemporary dance as there had been in other years, giving the evening a satisfying unanimity of purpose.

But of course that’s not the primary purpose of Bodytorque. It seeks to discover and promote new choreographic talent, and it’s extremely rare to find a keeper. In the first decade of Bodytorque there has been only one graduate to the main stage, Tim Harbour, and he has been quiet of late.

It’s not surprising to see new choreographers take inspiration from established dance-makers when they are starting out and this crop has been touched by some of the highest-profile people in the business. For instance, Benjamin Stuart-Carberry’s Polymorphia, with its sudden silences and blackouts, summoned memories of William Forsythe. The complicated, tangled pas de deux in Alice Topp’s Tinted Windows recalled Christopher Wheeldon. Halaina Hills made no bones about her debt to George Balanchine, smartly acknowledging it early in Mode.L by referring to one of the key images from Apollo. Ty King-Wall’s The Art of War, in which four men vie for the favour of one woman, reminded me somewhat of Robert Helpmann’s The Display in its male jostling for ascendancy. And Richard House’s Finding the Calm perhaps scored the Jiri Kylian guernsey for its cool sexiness, elegant arrangements and the suggestion of complex relationships. I could happily have watched Finding the Calm again right away because I wanted to know more about his two couples. Job done.

All the works were confident and, for the most part, extremely well structured. These are gifts that can’t be borrowed. Only Stuart-Carberry got a bit stuck on technique at the expense of direction in Polymorphia, although I enjoyed his strong, expansive upper-body work as two women (Imogen Chapman and Valerie Tereshchenko, both exquisite), mostly occupying separate pools of light and often mirroring one another, looked ravishing but oh so distant. His choice of music,48 Responses to Polymorphia by Jonny Greenwood, worked well with its dissonances that resolve themselves into harmonics in that Stuart-Carberry was interested in symmetry and asymmetry. It’s likely Stuart-Carberry has absorbed lessons from being (a brief) part of Sylvie Guillem’s 6000 Miles Away program. While it was just performed in Melbourne, Stuart-Carberry was also involved when 6000 Miles Away showed in Sydney in March last year. A great opportunity for this former AB dancer.

Hills showed an extremely sure hand in the way she shaped the variety of her groups, duos, solos, entrances, exits and the details that add texture to a work – a terrific ending, too, although the piece overall was too derivative with its Balanchinean hip thrusts and swivels. But as they say, if you’re going to steal, take from the best. Mode.L’s pluses included the ambitious use of Stravinsky’s Octet for Wind Instruments, played live, and Ako Kondo’s sparkling central role. Hills should be encouraged to work on ideas for next year’s Bodytorque pronto.

Topp, who has previously impressed at Bodytorque (twice) was over-enthusiastic in the way her couples grappled and the manipulation of the women went too far in the direction of manhandling for my taste, but she has a touch for mood and atmosphere. Tinted Windows over-stretched itself in the search for a marriage of and differentiation between technique and feeling, an impression compounded by the use of Leif Sundstrup’s rather soft-grained music. There was an odd pause in the middle, too, that simply didn’t work as a dramatic moment. I thought at first that a dancer had been injured or missed a cue. Topp’s coup in securing fashion designer Toni Maticevski to create the romantic costumes added glamour and the opening night audience gave Tinted Windows a huge cheer. Despite my reservations about aspects of the ballet, it would be so good to see Topp given further chances to develop.

It was heartening, by the way, to see two women on the bill. One of the big discussions in classical dance is the paucity of female choreographers.

King-Wall’s melding of martial arts-inflected moves with classicism in The Art of War wasn’t quite as seamless as it might be but there was virtuosic work for the men and a pleasing sense of intrigue with his solo woman in the red dress. The music, a selection of pieces from the group Coda, didn’t strike exactly the right note with the choreography but that’s part of the process – finding the most fruitful correlations between dance and music.

As Hills had earlier in the program and Josh Consandine would do after, King-Wall understood that putting an uneven number of dancers onstage can create tension, narrative and structural interest all by itself. The choreographers were allowed a maximum of five dancers each, and these three took the full option.

Consandine, a former principal dancer with the Australian Ballet and a Sydney Dance Company alumnus, was a natural choice for the program’s closer as he’d come up with the most polished piece of the evening. In-finite was also the most purely classical work, leavened with jokiness and humour but knowing when to stop. The group of two men and three women demonstrated the need to work as a team and the impulse to be an individual; they showed the joy and anguish of dance; they got in some fouettes and pirouettes a la seconde; principal Andrew Killian found himself in a headstand; and there was a brief, antic breakout of jazz hands. A delight.

I could see In-finite being a big hit on the circuit of the Dancers Company, the AB’s touring arm made up of graduating students from the Australian Ballet School and AB guests. I could also see Finding the Calm doing business. A good result for Bodytorque this year.

The provision of live music for several pieces was a bonus, with Simon Thew conducting a small ensemble of players from the Australia Opera and Ballet Orchestra. It does make a big difference. As always Bodytorque gives lower-ranked dancers a moment in the spotlight. There really were far too many to mention (isn’t that good?), but those who like to go talent-spotting at the AB had plenty to work with.

Kat Chan was billed as design co-ordinator for all the pieces and costume designer for In-finite (loved the cheeky little minimalist tutus) and Finding the Calm; Graham Silver lit all the works. The choreographers were most handsomely supported.

Next year Sydney loses Bodytorque to Melbourne. I hope the city cherishes it, although there will need to be patience. In 2014 Bodytorque – subtitled DNA, whatever that may mean – is slated for the State Theatre, three performances only, and not in one block. So there’s a huge stage, a huge auditorium, lack of continuity in performance and lack of heft in the number of performances. I do understand that the AB has the theatre for its use at that time and to go elsewhere would cost, but the venue is far from ideal.

The word is that Melbourne has always asked for Bodytorque. Well, now it’s going to get it, and needs to put its money where its mouth is.

The Australian Ballet launches a new look

The Australian Ballet’s 2014 season introduces a few surprises

IT used to be chiselled in stone. Every mainstage season of the Australian Ballet in Melbourne would have 11 or 12 performances and in Sydney, in the smaller Joan Sutherland Theatre, there would be 20 or thereabouts.  It didn’t matter if it was Swan Lake or a harder-to-sell triple bill; the number of performances was pretty much the same. The AB would add a few extra shows for extremely popular repertoire, as it is doing for next year’s Nutcracker (the Peter Wright version), but there was no adjustment down for the mixed programs that are rarely as well attended as full-length ballets. Each season was also strictly dedicated to the one program.

AB dancer Benedicte Bernet in a promotional shot for the 2014 season. Photo: Paul Scala

AB dancer Benedicte Bernet in a promotional shot for the 2014 season. Photo: Paul Scala

For 2014 the AB has made several changes that look eminently sensible: win-win-win for audiences, dancers and the company’s bottom line. There is a reduction in the number of Sydney and Melbourne performances of the two mixed bills, Imperial Suite and Chroma, with Sydney seeing a big change – in the slot where you’d usually see one mixed bill, Sydney will divide the time more or less equally between two. The change in Melbourne is far less marked in this respect; it gets a reduction from the norm of only a couple of performances. The cities will each get exactly the same number of performances for Imperial Suite (nine) and Chroma (10), which suggests Melbourne is a rather stronger market for mixed bills than Sydney given the significant difference in theatre capacity between Melbourne’s State Theatre and the Joan Sutherland. Or perhaps that’s just how the juggling act had to work.

In Melbourne Chroma will precede Imperial Suite but in Sydney the programs will be presented in repertory – a major change. On Saturday May 17 it would be possible to see both by attending the matinee and evening performances.

Melbourne does have one little overlap. For the first time the new choreographers’ workshop, Bodytorque – in its 10th year – will be staged in Melbourne and one of the three performances (June 24) will be in the midst of the Imperial Suite season (June 20-28). This is good news for Melbourne dance-lovers who have been asking for Bodytorque, but it will be challenging for the choreographers. Instead of the Sydney Theatre’s friendly proportions for smaller-scale work they will have to come to grips with the huge State Theatre stage and auditorium.

Ako Kondo in a promotional shot for the AB's Bodytorque.DNA. Photo Paul Scala

Ako Kondo in a promotional shot for the AB’s Bodytorque.DNA. Photo Paul Scala

In her introduction to the season, the AB’s new executive director, Libby Christie, wrote that the changes would allow a more diverse selection of works, create flexibility for audiences and give dancers more opportunities to perform. In broad terms it means Sydney now has room for an extra mainstage program, although it loses Bodytorque. And it gives the AB the chance to get bigger houses for the contemporary work. Well, that’s obviously the idea, and good luck to it.

Work from both the AB’s resident choreographers will be seen in Melbourne and Sydney next year. Stephen Baynes will be part of the Chroma program (headlined, obviously, by Wayne McGregor’s Chroma from 2006 and including Jiri Kylian’s Petit Mort and Sechs Tanze). The AB has also programmed Stanton Welch’s 2010 production of La Bayadere, made for Houston Ballet where he is artistic director. The often omitted temple-tumbling fourth act is included and there is the promise of live snakes. If this photograph is any guide, the production will live up to its tag of being opulently Oriental in design – Peter Farmer is the man responsible.

Robyn Hendricks and Ty King-Wall give a taste of Stanton Welch's La Bayadere. Photo: Paul Scala

Robyn Hendricks and Ty King-Wall give a taste of Stanton Welch’s La Bayadere. Photo: Paul Scala

In addition, Brisbane is rapidly becoming ballet central: next year the AB gives it two programs, Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon (February 21-March 1) and Imperial Suite (February 26-27), a strong addition to the visit from American Ballet Theatre in August-September (Swan Lake; a mixed bill of Twyla Tharp, Jerome Robbins and Alexei Ratmansky) and Queensland Ballet’s presentation of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet, featuring international guest artists Carlos Acosta and Tamara Rojo. It is worth noting that this year extra performances have been added to all QB’s seasons in artistic director Li Cunxin’s first full year, despite sell-out performances for the visiting Bolshoi.

Adelaide is also visited in 2014, and will see Alexei Ratmansky’s Cinderella, which premieres in Melbourne later this month and is seen in Sydney from November 29.

The Australian Ballet’s 2014 program in brief:

Manon (MacMillan), Brisbane, Melbourne and Sydney

Imperial Suite (Balanchine’s Ballet Imperial, Lifar’s Suite en blanc), Brisbane, Melbourne and Sydney

Chroma (McGregor, Kylian, Baynes), Sydney and Melbourne

La Bayadere (Welch), Melbourne and Sydney

The Nutcracker (Wright), Melbourne and Sydney

Cinderella (Ratmansky), Adelaide

Bodytorque.DNA, Melbourne

Symmetries

Monument, The Four Temperaments, After the Rain pas de deux. The Australian Ballet, Canberra Theatre, May 23.

MANY a distinguished artist has come a cropper when asked to create something to order for a special occasion, whether they be a poet laureate, a painter or, in this case, a choreographer. Being handed weighty, worthy subject matter can have a limiting effect it seems. The work of Garry Stewart, the celebrated artistic director of Australian Dance Theatre, has never looked as tame or confined as it does in Monument.

Andrew Killian and Lana Jones in Monument. Photo: Branco Gaica

Andrew Killian and Lana Jones in Monument. Photo: Branco Gaica

Monument pays homage to Parliament House as part of the Centenary of Canberra festival (and marks the building’s 25th anniversary). The idea isn’t as odd as it may at first sound. Choreographers are expert builders. Using dancers as material they make a piece of architecture that, despite its evanescence, exists moment by moment in three-dimensional form. The architecture, however, needs to be animated by some vital force. George Balanchine’s modernist masterpiece The Four Temperaments, which opened this Canberra-only program, is overflowing with spirit. Stewart’s building blocks, although expertly assembled, were beautiful but inert.

Nineteen dancers clad in anonymous, body-hugging white (costumes by Mary Moore) industriously came and went. Angled arms, hands and legs, super-fast supported pirouettes and rippled torsos evoked work, construction, lines, planes and space in a lofty, clean-hands kind of way. No sweaty singlets on this build!

For all its busyness, Monument’s energy level felt surprisingly low. This is partly, I think, because the dancers soon had to compete with projections of ever-more detailed and attention-grabbing 3D computer graphics of Parliament House, created by Paul Lawrence-Jennings. They were fascinating, to be sure, but increasingly over-powering. They gave the feeling of being in a high-end architect’s office where everything is done on computer and there’s no place for emotion.(Yes, I’m sure architects do have emotions, but they didn’t emerge in Monument.)

Richard House and Rudy Hawkes in Monument. Photo: Branco Gaica

Richard House and Rudy Hawkes in Monument. Photo: Branco Gaica

A set of mirrored actions given to two small groups of dancers gave a hint of parliamentary disputation but the human element was almost entirely missing from here, and elsewhere. When Andrew Killian held Lana Jones’s leg to her ear as she struck a perfect six o’clock position, one imagined we were seeing Parliament House’s flagpole – a highly specific thing rather than something allusive.

But surely the story of Parliament House is what it represents, not the nuts and bolts of how it was built? Or that it was built? Stewart knows this, of course, as his final, simple, eloquent image shows. Those last few seconds were worth more than any of the 25 minutes or so that went before. Until that moment the concept of democracy didn’t enter the picture, except to rear its head in a more metaphorical and sterile way: apart from several duos that gave Jones and Killian the attention, Monument put all its dancers pretty much on the same impersonal footing. Principal artist Daniel Gaudiello kept catching the eye because he is so charismatic but he was criminally underused.

Huey Benjamin’s electronic score for Monument is one I’d like to hear again. It was spacious, rhythmically alert and gave a good sense of the subject matter. But I suspect this is a work unlikely to have a life beyond the occasion for which it was created.

I couldn’t help thinking about two other dance works with building as their driving principle – Lucy Guerin’s Structure and Sadness (2005) and Tanje Liedtke’s Construct (2007). Guerin’s piece took what seemed a terribly difficult subject – the fatal collapse of Melbourne’s Westgate Bridge – and made an eloquent statement about community and grief.

In my 2008 review of Construct for The Australian I wrote:

[Liedtke] took the idea of building and let loose all of the associated meanings. There is the physical reality of making things but also the building and breaking of relationships. A construct can be something material or philosophical. Building implies competence, practicality, strength and creativity. There is a need for balance, ingenuity, problem-solving, co-operation. A structure can be a home or a prison, it can stand or it can fall … you could go on and on, so rich is this apparently basic notion.

The Four Temperaments came to Canberra well-honed from its Sydney outing in the Vanguard program and was in excellent shape. In the way of Christian Dior’s New Look couture – both were launched in the mid-1940s – its sophistications and coolly intellectual approach are timeless. Set to Paul Hindemith’s bracing and endlessly intriguing score, the 4Ts puts frilly ballet to the sword in a series of sleek, dramatic responses to the music and to the ancient Greek humours (the piece isn’t without humour in the conventional sense, either). The cast included seven of the AB’s principal artists, with Kevin Jackson (Melancholic) and Adam Bull (Phlegmatic) both more deeply and satisfyingly immersed in their roles than on opening night in Sydney. But at the Canberra opening the highlight was Lucinda Dunn’s luxurious Sanguinic pas de deux with Ty King-Wall. Dunn’s dancing was full of juice as she filled every phrase fully, at the same time carving the small, fast movements of foot and lower leg with forensic precision. She is a wonder.

The Canberra Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Nicolette Fraillon, played nobly for the 4Ts given the Canberra Theatre’s less than glowing acoustic.

An aside: the AB originally planned to pair Monument with Harald Lander’s Etudes, but happily reconsidered. Apart from its being more sensible to program a piece already tuned up (the 4Ts) rather than spend time honing Etudes, the 4Ts is a far more stimulating work. And there was the bonus of needing another piece to fill out the evening.

The pas de deux from Christopher Wheeldon’s After the Rain (2008) is a favourite with ballet companies and audiences the world over. As with the 4Ts it has a rigorously stripped-back form but where Balanchine invites a cerebral response, Wheeldon’s piece is all emotion, albeit held chastely in check. The music, Arvo Part’s luminous Spiegel im Spiegel (The mirror in the mirror), is simultaneously transparent and mysterious as it flows up and down the scale, the violin melody floating above repeated triads on the piano. The serene legato of the music is a pillow on which the dancers float, their relationship one of endless, unrevealed possibilities.

Lana Jones’s undertow of erotic abandon was barely veiled while Adam Bull, looking more imposing by the day, partnered with superlative strength and ease. Ten minutes of bliss.

This is an extended version of a review that appeared in The Australian on May 27.

Vanguard

 The Australian Ballet, Sydney Opera House, April 30

GEORGE Balanchine was indisputably a game-changer, to use the Australian Ballet’s phrase in explaining the ethos behind Vanguard, the triple bill that opened in Sydney on April 30. The game-changer tag is somewhat less cut and dried in the case of Jiri Kylian and Wayne McGregor, who are also on the bill, but you have to give the program a name. And Vanguard is certainly a lot punchier than Trilogy, which is what the AB prosaically used to call such evenings. You could argue, I suppose, that Trilogy was an exact description, but gee, it’s not catnip, is it?

Let me take you back to one of the AB’s contributions to the Olympic Arts Festival in 2000, in which it danced, on the one bill, William Forsythe’s In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, Nacho Duato’s Por vos muero and Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room. It was dynamite. The AB called it Trilogy.

But that was then. Now back to Vanguard. The title may be a little imprecise but the program works in giving a sweeping view of what a classical company considers its territory. It’s exhilarating in its scope and comes with the bonus of wonderful music. Under Nicolette Fraillon’s baton the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra has as many changes of direction over the evening as do the dancers, starting with Paul Hindemith’s modernist Theme with Four Variations (The Four Temperaments). This was a Balanchine commission, although it took a few years for music and dance to come together. Theme with Four Variations was written in 1940 and received its premiere as a concert work in 1944. Balanchine’s ballet appeared in 1946.

Vanguard ends with Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929 (2009), danced to Steve Reich’s minimalist, driving Double Sextet, a piece for which Reich was awarded a Pulitzer Prize. In between, Jiri Kylian’s Bella Figura uses a collage of Baroque and Baroque-style excerpts, including two movements from Lukas Foss’s bijou Salomon Rossi Suite. Fun degrees-of-separation note: Foss studied composition with Hindemith in New York, and he wasn’t just a composer; he was also a noted pianist. And guess who was the pianist when Theme with Four Variations (The Four Temperments) premiered on the concert stage? That would be Lukas Foss.

Andrew Killian, Lana Jones and Daniel Gaudiello in Dyad 1929. Photo: Branco Gaica

Andrew Killian, Lana Jones and Daniel Gaudiello in Dyad 1929. Photo: Branco Gaica

The palette is particularly rich and relies on dancers with acute musical responses. There are no characters or narratives to fall back on. Moreover, with many of the dancers cast in more than one of the works at any performance they have to be adept at switching from upright Balanchine to twisty, bendy McGregor within the space of an hour. On opening night in Sydney principals Lana Jones and Adam Bull and senior artist Rudy Hawkes scored the trifecta and danced in the Kylian as well – a feat something akin to an opera singer being asked to perform in Baroque, Romantic and 20th-century style in successive acts.

By the way, nine of the AB’s 11 principal artists appeared on opening night. That’s not something you often see. And if the casting stays as it is, it seems Jones will get precisely one performance off out of the 20 in Sydney. Respect. (Or does it mean the AB lacks depth: discuss.)

The remaining two principal artists, Lucinda Dunn and Olivia Bell, have been a little elusive of late but are lined up for Vanguard. Casting is online – take a look.

Balanchine said of ballet that “the visual spectacle is the essential element”. The assertion may seem at odds with The Four Temperaments’ austerity of costuming (black tights and white T-shirts for the men; plain black leotards for the women) and set (none). Balanchine, however, was talking about the spectacle of movement. There is no meaning other than that provided by bodies in time, space and with music as four discrete scenes named after the ancient Greek humours follow three iterations of the score’s themes.

When the 4Ts premiered it was costumed rather fantastically and busily. Those costumes were banished in 1951. “When things hindered the dance Balanchine eliminated them,” says former dancer Mary Ellen Moylan in a documentary on Balanchine. (Moylan is described in the film, Dancing for Mr B., by Maria Tallchief as the first Balanchine ballerina.) Moylan also said that the choreographer made great music – such as that by Stravinsky – “greater by the things he showed us visually”.

An intriguing view on this stripped-back look for the 4Ts was put forward in Vanity Fair in its March edition of this year. The magazine noted that in September 1951 the film of A Streetcar named Desire was released, in which Marlon Brando (as Stanley Kowalski) appeared to much advantage in a tight white T-shirt. The look took off immediately and Vanity Fair specifically links that trend with Balanchine’s November 1951 decision to re-costume the 4Ts as we now see it. Well, it’s an idea.

The first performance of The Four Temperaments in the AB’s Sydney season happened to fall on the 30th anniversary of Balanchine’s death. It was a timely tribute with a seminal piece. The 4Ts is astringent, precise, sophisticated, cerebral and incredibly exposing. It was thrilling to see it again, even if the ballet’s magisterial command and patrician wit and elegance were insufficiently projected.

There are two reasons for this. The first is one of space: the Joan Sutherland Theatre at the Sydney Opera House so often makes dancers look hemmed in. The 4Ts didn’t have the room to move that it had in 2003 in the American Masters program staged at the Capitol Theatre. The second reason is one of temperament, funnily enough, and the observation isn’t restricted only to this ballet. AB dancers are too often reticent in imposing their personalities and will in performance (it’s perhaps something related to the no-stars vibe of the company). I’m not talking about fake smiles or look-at-me superficialities; rather of largeness of spirit, clarity of intention and refinement of expression resulting in inner impulses being translated into movement that speaks rather than merely exists as an attractive object.

In relation to the 4Ts, the women of the corps were less warrior-like than the movement suggests, with its stabbing, advancing high kicks and jutting pelvises. While I say the stage was too small for the action, it’s also the case that on opening night the corps fell short in filling the stage dramatically. They were too tame; lacking in pride and ownership in a ballet where the women, choreographically speaking, lord it over the men.

There was much pleasure, however, in Jones’s force-of-nature Choleric – her turns were ferocious – and Leanne Stojmenov’s Sanguinic. Stojmenov was springy and elastic when needed and articulately captured the importance and value of Balanchine’s transfers of weight. The circle of low lifts were plush and pillowy, and in this Stojmenov was ably abetted by newly minted principal artist Ty King-Wall.

Kevin Jackson’s Melancholic was powerful and transfixing until the final moments, when he ran out of stage and back mobility for that astonishing exit in reverse. Adam Bull could be more free and expansive in the opening moments of Phlegmatic but he gains in stage presence with each appearance.

In complete contrast to the 4Ts, Kylian’s Bella Figura (1995) has a tentative, questioning quality laced with tenderness. It suits the company well. Pointe shoes are gone and movement comes in swirls and curves, sometimes serene, sometimes less so as swirls contract into twitches. It’s a dreamy, fragmentary, sensual piece that was beautifully danced by its cast of nine on opening night, although again space was an issue.

And another thing. Memory must always be consulted with caution, but its persistence is nevertheless telling. I find it impossible to see any performance of Bella Figura without comparing it to that seen in 2000 as part of the Olympic Arts Festival. It was at the generously sized Capitol Theatre and I remember being able to see it more clearly than just the other day. Perhaps the lighting state is exactly the same but the theatres are different, so I doubt it. At the Sydney Opera House Bella Figura looked more shadowy, and not in a good way. The lighting made the dancers harder to read, although it was possible to see that corps de ballet member Ingrid Gow, by far the most junior of the cast, was outstanding. Miwako Kubota was wonderful and Jones and Daniel Gaudiello were quite lovely in the final scene in which tension and release are quietly and enigmatically explored but not necessarily resolved.

That said, in my mind’s eye – as Shakespeare has it – I could still see performing in this ballet Steven Heathcote and Miranda Coney, Joshua Consadine and Nicole Rhodes, Sarah Peace and Felicia Palanca, all long gone from the AB. Funny thing, memory.

Dyad 1929 ruthlessly banishes any shadows. It’s a space-age ballet that dazzles with its bright white setting and bodies stretched, extended, manipulated and distorted to the max as the Reich music inexorably powers forward. Jones, Stojmenov and Gaudiello stood out in a cast of stand-outs at the opening. Dana Stephensen looked pleased as punch to be pulled every which way. Bull and Amber Scott scored with a sexy duo, Jones was sensational in a solo that turned her back into a question mark and there was always something to please the eye, in an insistent way.

Amber Scott and Adam Bull in Dyad 1929. Photo: Branco Gaica

Amber Scott and Adam Bull in Dyad 1929. Photo: Branco Gaica

What it means is difficult to discern. If the movement speaks for itself, if that’s all there is, what’s with the program notes? You might be able to intuit Dyad 1929‘s nods to Antarctic exploration, what with all that white. You can find that the ballet’s name, if you peruse the notes, refers to the year of Diaghilev’s death and thus to the great impresario’s adventurousness. But you have to do your reading to get the picture.

There’s no doubt that Dyad 1929 looks amazing and is expertly constructed. And that the 4Ts, crisp as a glorious autumn day, still looks the revolutionary piece.

Vanguard, Sydney, until May 18. Melbourne, June 6-17.

Ty King-Wall

The Australian Ballet has a new principal artist

WHEN David McAllister walks onstage at the end of an Australian Ballet performance it usually means just one thing, and so it was the afternoon of April 6  in Sydney. McAllister named Ty King-Wall, 26, the AB’s newest principal artist after his performance as Basilio in Don Quixote.

King-Wall said the next day he had no warning, thinking his parents had come from his native New Zealand simply to see him dance. Afterwards they thought they should be receiving all the congratulations, not him, King-Wall joked. “And that’s right.”

Ty King-Wall, new principal artist of The Australian Ballet. Photo: James Braund

Ty King-Wall, new principal artist of The Australian Ballet. Photo: James Braund

With King-Wall it wasn’t a matter of if he would be promoted, but when. He has been dancing principal roles for years, taking the role of the Prince in Stanton Welch’s Sleeping Beauty as early as 2009, just three years after he joined the Australian Ballet. In 2010 he was the Prince in the Peter Wright version of The Nutcracker, Franz in Coppelia and Octavian in Graeme Murphy’s The Silver Rose.

McAllister needed to find the right moment to make the announcement, and more or less had it thrust upon him. He likes a dancer’s family to be in the auditorium if possible when he promotes a dancer so phoned King-Wall’s parents in New Zealand to suggest they might like to think about planning a trip to Sydney. He was told his call was timely: they were just about to get on a plane. So that sorted the date – April 6, at the matinee.

King-Wall’s father had not seen his son dance since his Australian Ballet School graduation performance – coincidentally of the third act of Don Quixote.

Fortunately for McAllister, King-Wall gave a principal-worthy performance on the 6th. He claims to have been “feeling a little bit down after the first act – there were a couple of things I wasn’t really happy with. I had to tell myself to pull it together and I really enjoyed the third act.” From the auditorium things looked just fine. King-Wall has lovely proportions and elegant bearing. He had easy elevation, the cleanest of pirouettes, the occasional special effect thrown in without triumphalism, his double tours were landed in firm, tight fifth positions and he confidently negotiated the tricky one-armed lifts in Act I. While King-Wall isn’t naturally an ebullient character, his Basilio was charming, sweet and amusing.

He was well matched with principal Leanne Stojmenov, a lively and funny Kitri with lovely touches of sensuality.

There had been buzz about King-Wall within the company during the Melbourne season of Don Quixote and in Brisbane when the AB performed Swan Lake (the Stephen Baynes version). On April 6 one enterprising dancer asked McAllister if he was going to promote King-Wall that day, basing his question on the fact McAllister was wearing a suit. McAllister was thus attired because he was taking part in a talk later, but when a story is on the move anything will be examined for signs.

In any event, it was that day. King-Wall had no warning but wasn’t especially surprised. He has been “working towards this for a long time”.

His parents weren’t initially followers of the ballet. King-Wall began taking classes when he was seven because a friend had started and “was a bit apprehensive and wanted a guy to keep him company. I said sure, I’ll give it a go.” The friend quickly fell by the wayside but King-Wall was hooked. At 16 he was accepted by the Australian Ballet School and joined the AB in 2006. McAllister describes him as “a born prince”.

“It felt the right time for him to take on that mantle,” says McAllister. “He’s really proved his worth.” Even though King-Wall is the youngest of the AB’s 12 principal artists (soon to be back to 11 when Yosvani Ramos leaves at the end of the Don Quixote Sydney season), he could have been elevated even sooner had he not had a significant back injury. “He did have a setback,” says McAllister, “but in a funny way the injury made me more sure that he was right for promotion. He was so professional and committed, and had the tenacity to make sure he rehabbed and rehabbed properly.

“Once he got back, I thought yep, he’s going to be fine. The way he approached it I knew that it was going to be all right.”

King-Wall says the company’s support during his period of injury has made him “relieved and grateful” that he now has reached the top rank. The promotion puts him at the same rank as his off-stage partner, AB principal Amber Scott. “I have a deep respect for the rank and what it means,” he says. “I understand the responsibilities and expectations.”

He’s happy, too, to be as busy as possible. “It’s a short career and you want to make absolutely the most of it.” The AB will be getting its money’s worth in the upcoming Vanguard triple bill, as King-Wall is cast in each work – Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments, Jiri Kylian’s Bella Figura and Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929, created on the company in 2009. He has danced only in Dyad 1929 and is looking forward to exploring the other two works.

Ty King-Wall is scheduled to appear in Don Quixote at the Sydney Opera House on April 12, 17 and 22. Vanguard opens at the Sydney Opera House on April 30 and in Melbourne on June 6.