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Compañía Nacional de Danza "Bach: Multiplicity, Forms of Silence and Emptiness"
May 11, 2010 -- The National Arts Centre, Ottawa, Canada The Compañía Nacional de Danza takes the stage in the nation’s capital, for their only Canadian performance. Tonight’s ballet is entitled “Bach: Multiplicity, Forms of Silence and Emptiness”. In the audience sits Eudaldo Mirapeix, Ambassador of Spain to Canada and members of the embassy. They are understandably proud of the award winning Spanish choreographer, Nacho Duato. The company originated in Madrid, Spain, in 1979. Back then, it was called Ballet Nacional de España Clásico. Duato was appointed artistic director in 1990 and has since focused his energies on more contemporary works well maintaining classic form. The curtains open. A man dressed in black dances to the gentle rhythm of piano music. He looks thoughtful as he moves, feeling the music and piecing together steps. If he looks comfortable in this role—it’s because it is Duato, dancing on stage. In the shadows stands another man, observing. As he steps into the light, his clothing is illuminated. He is dressed as a historic figure, wearing a ruffled white shirt, a velvet coat, and breeches with stockings. His powdered wig, tied back with a black bow, secures his 18th century look. This is Johann Sebastian Bach, the German composer, (1685-1750) portrayed by Thomas Klein. The two join hands to dance. Bach leads the dancer through the music, guiding his body and giving directions. Through these visuals, Duato tells the story of creating this ballet. In 1999 the city of Weimar, Germany, commissioned the choreographer to create a special ballet. Weimar had been chosen as the Cultural Capital of Europe that year. For Duato, this meant the music of Bach. The composer had lived there is his mid-adult years with his wife, Maria Barbara. Bach was appointed court organist and later court master, while working for Duke of Weimar, Wilhelm Ernst. Onstage, the duet is complete. Bach moves downstage toward the audience to take a bow. The curtains close behind him. Strangely, he turns his back to the audience, body statuesque in the spotlight, while the orchestra plays his music. The curtains open again, revealing dancers clad in black, seated as if part of an orchestra, but without instruments. Bach steps forward, conductor’s baton in hand, while the music begins. On cue, dancers leap up one by one, keeping in time with the music. They have become musical notes. With intensified energy, the music plays on and then stops abruptly. The dancers leave the stage, carrying their benches. Bach, alone, sits down. A female dancers swirls on stage and places her body upon his lap. He proceeds to pick up his baton, which he now uses as a bow, and glides it across her body as the music begins. She twists her torso, elongates her arm and legs, as Bach plays her like a cello. The dancer has become the instrument. It’s an intimate moment that feels almost voyeuristic. The next scene is more playful. Two dancers run on stage, stepping softly, hands splayed as if playing the piano. The diminutive female dancer bends forward, torso parallel to the stage, while her male companion plays the imaginary keys on her back. The music complete, he folds the dancer in half, eyes to knees, as if closing a keyboard, and carries her off stage. The audience laughs at the unexpected cheekiness of the routine. The choreography is sheer perfection, blending dance into individual notes, showcasing the musicality of multiple layers. The audience witnesses the dancers and the music merge together into one. Every part of the body is used. Some movements are slow, languishing leaps lengthened in mid air as the notes are held. Others are frenzied and skittish like the second hand of a timepiece. In several segments, the dancers walk slowly across the stage representing both the unity and repetition of the music. As new notes are built upon the composition, one will leap forward for a short solo. Often they dance in rounds, one beginning seconds after the first. Act two is more introspective, hazy and dreamy. Perhaps it’s the aura of darkness and white smoke that surrounds the stage. Bach is intensely thinking, sometimes showing physical and mental exhaustion, lying flat on his back, unmoving. Three dancers are silhouetted behind a screen, each a single note. They jauntily jump up and down to the music. Bach pulls the dancers out from hiding, one by one, to take a closer look at his composition. The music takes over and the dancers are free to move, as Bach only listens from behind the screen, he himself now in silhouette. Interestingly, Duato does not see the notes as gender specific. Therefore both male and female are often dressed in skirts or long robes. The dancer/choreographer also designed the costumes in collaboration with Ismael Aznar. Is his third role in this production narcissism or creative expression in various forms? Regardless, the costumes suit this particular ballet. Predominantly black, with hints of jewel tones for linings, they provide a striking flash of colour. Bach’s muse also appears dressed in black. Her peak-a-boo blouse could have been made from fishnet stockings. It is paired with a multi-tiered Spanish inspired skirt, slit to the navel. A white mask hides her face. Bach dances a duet with his wife, a lady of fashion. In keeping with the time, her dress is exceptionally wide with panniers or side hoops, a style originally popularized in Spain before spreading throughout Europe. It reminds one of a Velázquez painting of Infanta Margarita Teresa. Overall, the ballet is stunning, a unique combination of classical music and stark modern ballet balanced with both sleek and historical costumes. In a world full of the predictable, this company is not.
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by Karen Barr