"I'm
surprised there are so many men here." remarked the dumpy little
Englishman on my right. "You'd think they'd be home watching the
football". Then the curtain went up on a stage full of
ballerinas in classical white, convincing us they really were
snowflakes dancing to the music of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker.
The Imperial Russian Ballet Company was formed in
1994. It includes dancers from ballet companies from all over
the world and its repertoire consists of well-known classics. This
year's tour features highlights from some of their full-length
productions.
Reading the programme I was reminded a little of a Gala
Concert I once attended in Prague – it was a performance for
tourists, and they managed to cram the familiar bits of about thirty
five major pieces into forty minutes, with pause for applause in
between. My fears were soon allayed, however.
The first part of the programme consisted of
various pieces from Nutcracker, with plenty of colour and
movement. The Chinese Dance in particular was very bouncy and verging
on quite silly. I even managed not to think (well, not very
much) about Disney's mushrooms in Fantasia.
This was a slight problem. Music that is thoroughly familiar carries with it many memories and associations, and all that cultural baggage can
be distracting. Still, ballet is absolutely about the dance, isn't
it? So I set aside all former experiences with Ravel's Bolero,
which was a good idea as after this evening I'm never going to hear it the same way
again.
According to the programme notes, Ravel was inspired by a
visit to a factory where he picked up the monotonous rhythms of the
production line and the thuds and bangs of heavy machinery.
The composer did great things with it, weaving a strange, oriental melody over the
mechanical rhythm. The choreographer N. Androsov exploited this dissonance,
blending angular, repetitive movements with sudden leaps and whirls
which become more and more frenetic as the music crescendoes to its
crashing climax.
This has to be the most blatantly sexual piece of music ever written. Add to it a stage full of incredibly beautiful, athletic young people in sinister, flowing, gold-lined black robes performing an arcane pagan ritual dance . . . Miley Cyrus may as well give up and go home.
This has to be the most blatantly sexual piece of music ever written. Add to it a stage full of incredibly beautiful, athletic young people in sinister, flowing, gold-lined black robes performing an arcane pagan ritual dance . . . Miley Cyrus may as well give up and go home.
"Torville
and Dean performed to that." the helpful little Englishman informed me.
I suppose somebody had to say it.
After
the second interval we watched a "trailer" for Don
Quixote, which the Company will be presenting in its entirety in
their tour next year, and I, for one, will be saving up for a ticket!
This was followed by a series of short pieces where individual dancers or
couples were able to show off some of their most spectacular
artistry.
 |
| Gopak |
I
seldom attend the ballet and am far from being an afficionado. If
there was a false step or a hiccup in the timing, I remain blissfully
unaware, being totally swept up in the spectacle. Dancer
after dancer sprang high in the air, spun on point, twisted their
body into elegantly impossible positions.
High-energy performances to The Corsair and Gopak,
the Ukranian
dance from Soloviev-Sedoi's Taras
Bulba with plenty of incredible high
leaps, left me – let alone the dancers – gasping for breath.
 |
| Ne Me Quittes Pas |
For
the William Tell Overture everyone dressed as fashionable
ladies or jockeys, bounding around the stage on imaginary horses
(don't think of the Lone Ranger OR Gangnam Style,
please). Other excerpts included the romantic and poignant Giselle,
San Saens' Dying Swan,
a lovely solo to Ne Me
Quittes Pas and as finale Offenbach's Can Can, with the
tallest male dancer camping it up hilariously in drag among the Can
Can dancers and roués. Everybody in the audience clapped along with
great enthusiasm.
The
Imperial Russian Ballet Company treated us to an evening of lavish costumes and the beauty and precision that only comes from
dedication, discipline and extreme physical development. If you are
excited by magnificent muscular bodies, excitement and energy combined with awesome physical prowess, forget the footy grand-final. You can get all that,
plus grace, artistry, colourful outfits and stirring music in much more comfort at the
ballet.
My English neighbour agrees. Ballet beats football on all
counts.
