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The National Ballet of Canada '24 Preludes by Chopin', 'A Suite of Dances' and 'Four Seasons'
March 3, 2010 -- Four Seasons Centre, Toronto Triple bills can be the balletic equivalent of balancing on a tightrope, and The National Ballet of Canada has at times struggled to find the right balance between styles, lengths, music, and casting requirements. The first repertory program of 2010, however, had no such wobbles, deftly weaving together first-rate ballets by Marie Chouinard and Jerome Robbins, and Kudelka’s “The Four Seasons”. There is probably no better way to show off the company than in Marie Chouinard’s “24 Preludes by Chopin”. Chouinard’s style is unabashedly modern, yet utterly musical. Many contemporary pieces seem to exist despite the music, not work with it, but Chouinard is both unabashedly modern and utterly musical. She follows in the footsteps of Mark Morris, as one of the rare contemporary choreographers who can create their own distinctive style while feeling every note, letting the dance and music work as equals. Here she sends her dancers out to music by Chopin, expertly played by Edward Connell. The dancers, dressed in revealing sheer costumes and mohawk-dreadlock hybrid hairstyles, are a fierce looking lot, but the choreography ranges from tender to humorous. Chouinard asks a great deal of the dancers, and they respond with an equal commitment. There are frequently rippling torsos, bent wrists and a great focus on arm movements. The attention to detail in Chouinard’s choreography is fascinating, particularly the emphasis placed on hand positions – wrists flick back and forth, sometimes in synch, sometimes in sequence. One dancer, only his torso lit, performs an entire ballet with his arms, the sharply bent wrists turning arms in to legs with flexed feet. At times Chouinard seems to be poking fun at the rigidity of ballet – while a soloist dances in front, the corps plays with a soccer ball. It’s a perfect blend of the rehearsed and the spontaneous. Later, a lone woman yells out musical notes at the front of the stage, only to be repeatedly subsumed into a group of dancers marching in quick time across the stage. She seems unable to resist the urge to join in the marchers, but escapes several times, only to eventually lose her voice and her will. The only sour note was Vandal’s overly revealing costumes. He dresses the men in sheer briefs, the women in sheer leotards, and the only apparent nods to modesty were a short vertical bit of electrical tape like material at the crotch and a thin strip across the womens’ nipple line. The tape bits tended to catch the eye, distracting the viewer from the choreographic images and the movement. The forced sexuality of the brief coverage seemed totally unnecessary, and it would have been just as effective to have opaque briefs and top, with sheerness in between. More is less when it comes to costumes – nudity isn’t much of a shocker anymore, just a distraction. Axel Morgenthal designed the lighting. In Jerome Robbins’ “A Suite of Dances”, NBoC has found a perfect vehicle to show off their masculine talents. For this opening evening, Zdenek Konvalina took on the role created for Mikhail Baryshnikov. A solo for one man and an onstage cellist (the outstanding Winona Zelenka), “A Suite of Dances” is a test of stamina and cooperation. It’s a lighthearted, introspective piece, with hints of Robbins’ earlier “Interplay”, and requires the two artists to collaborate to create a single artistic vision. Konvalina, with his mix of fluidity, technical prowess and control, is perfectly suited to Robbins’ challenges. The choreography is non-stop, stretching, bending, leaping, crouching, and ending a tour de force of pirouettes. Yet, as the cellist makes Bach’s music come to life, the dancer has to remain connected to the musician as well as the music. While Konvalina sometimes seemed to feel the music stronger than the musician, the duo were a wonderful match of artistic talents. His dancing seems to swell even more with the music, and Zelenka’s music seemed to gain more emotion as the dancing strengthened. There’s no better way to make both halves better than to let them play off of each other -- and this is Robbins’ ultimate genius. And here the dancer won, the musician won, and most of all, the audience won! (Nicole Pearce recreated Jennifer Tipton’s original lighting. The simple red costume was by Santo Loquasto). The evening’s final piece, James Kudelka’s “The Four Seasons” seems to be much beloved by the dancers and audience, but lacks the emotional core that makes successes out of two prior ballets. Using Antonio Vivaldi’s memorable music of the same name as the underpinning, Kudelka follows a lone man through the seasons of his life. We meet the man, eloquently danced by Aleksandar Antonijevic, in the spring of his life, and follow him through the passionate heat of summer, to the changes of fall, and finally through the chill and death of winter. Kudelka’s choreography is pleasant, if not entirely memorable. He is at his best with the corps, creating sharp, synchronous movement that flows across the stage. Lead by Antonijevic who poured every inch of his body into the dramatic, dance, the dancers all gave committed performances. Yet the concept of seasons, and the link from one to the next was muddied by bland costumes and confusing projections. The costumes (TRAC Costume, Carmen Alie and Denis Lavoie) were in very washed out, pale colors, the men in pants and coats, the women in long, loose pants. These same outfits reappeared, albeit with more layers as the seasons progressed, but there was no change of color to hint at the changing of seasons. Worse, the central character often blended in with the other dancers, disappearing into the group. Chris Wise’s large projections provided the missing color, but the images tended to give little clue about the season. Was that deep red backdrop the red heat of summer or the red leaves of autumn? Deprived of color or other cues to the season, it was like seeing a procession of ghosts reliving a shell of a past life. Without a real sense of seasons progressing, the ballet tended to have a feel of sameness, with the choreographic motifs also not changing noticeably. The real emotion in the ballet came from a series of outstanding performances. As previously mentioned, Antonijevic, coached by the role’s originator, Rex Harrington, gave the role his whole and brought to life the man, perhaps a ghost, as he reflected on his life lived. The other standout was Sonia Rodriguez as a flame from the hot summer of his life. Their pas de deux in front of the deep red backdrop radiated heat and passion. It was not outwardly erotic so much as inwardly smoldering, the sweltering, relaxed, languid heat of the hottest, driest summer. This was a love not hurried, not frantic, but experienced to its fullest. The final section of the ballet – winter and death – brought with it the other memorable performances. Age and experience was reflected in the performances of the company’s character dancers: Lorna Geddes, Victoria Bertram, Tomas Shramek and Hazaros Surmeyan. Their bodies may no longer have quite the spring or stretch of the younger dancers, but every movement reflects their decades of experience. And it’s this experience of life that their characters are meant to portray as they lead the man to his final end. Particularly touching was the pas de deux with the man and Victoria Bertram. She could be his mother, a wife, a now grown daughter tending her father in his final days, but regardless, a comforting and tender partner. And she is his final partner, as he expires in the hands of the corps, having seen his life as it was lived. Mayumi Seller was the solo violinist, David Finn did the lighting and David Briskin conducted the NBoC orchestra.
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by Kate Snedeker