Checkmate, Symphonic Variations, ‘Song of the Earth’: a ballet evening with music by Bliss, Franck and Mahler and choreography by de Valois, Ashton and MacMillan. Various artists of the Royal Ballet, orchestra of the Royal Opera House, conducted by Barry Wordsworth, Covent Garden, London. 2.6.2007 (JPr)

 

‘Seen and Heard’ makes a rare foray to the ballet, drawn mainly by the closing item on the triple bill Kenneth MacMillan’s choreographic interpretation of Mahler‘s Das Lied von der Erde, as ‘Song of the Earth’. This series of performances is notable for the retirement on the final night of one of Britain’s leading ballerinas, Darcey Bussell,but this opening matinee performance, featured Leanne Benjamin.

Mentioning that it was ‘a matinee’ is important because it certainly had that sort of feel about it, despite being the first of six for this triple-bill (or perhaps because of it) a certain lack of preparation was in evidence and here and there were dancers,  who should have been dancing in unison, in obvious ‘out of synch’ moments.

However more of this later, more importantly these three ballets sent me into a reverie about ballet as an art-form. I have been going to ballet as long as I have been going to opera and concerts of music but never have reflected so strongly about the dance presented as on this occasion. The programme opened with Checkmate that is nearly 70 years old. Music by Arthur Bliss, mostly red and black costumes and colourful settings by E. McKnight Kauffer and choreography by Ninette de Valois brought to those pre-WWII years – as Andrew Burn’s programme note stated – ‘an analogy for conflict between warring powers … in the struggle between adversaries, audiences found parallels to the contemporary European situation’. Against the backdrop of Bliss’s dramatic music this was played out as a chess match. After all these years attempting to recreate that first night in October 1937 all resonance is lost in dancing that is rather silted and old fashioned for most modern tastes but of course is in a direct line from Dame Ninette’s background with the Diaghilev Ballet. Ballet is, I think, the only art-form where such mummification exists … and I pose the question if we take a time machine on a further 70 years do we want to see the same steps as Ashton, Helpmann and Fonteyn danced all those years ago that first night in Paris? (No one who has seen Spamalot or seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail on which it is based will fail to recognise The Black Castles and The Red Castles as the Black Knight and the Knights who say Ni!)

This was all the same in a small way for the short second ballet Ashton’s Symphonic Variations to César Franck’s score in the sun-dappled pastoral spare designs of Sophie Fedorovitch. This is a short, now post-WWII, piece celebrating gratitude, joy and relief at surviving the world conflict. The performance of this work needs to effortless and seamless but too many of the mechanics of dance were on show. I had the feeling that there was too much thinking of the ‘where must I place my foot next’ type. The only truly spontaneous dancer on show was José Martin, however he is rather on the short side and the ballerinas were rather statuesque en pointe, which led to some incongruity in his partnering.

Sarah Lamb danced the role that was originally Fonteyn’s, bringing to it a cool fragile serenity but generated little individual personality to her part in Ashton’s ensemble of six dancers. She was flanked by Isabel McMeekan, Lauren Cuthbertson, Rupert Pennefather and Yosei Sasaki all suitably effective in maintaining what balletic mood there was but it was just all a little bland apart from the lift given by Martin’s brief solo. Ashton’s choreography has generally a cool, British stiff-upper-lip style but this seemed rather too frigid.

‘Song of the Earth’ worked much better: Why? Perhaps it is that MacMillan’s choreographic invention is more timeless and not being in any way literal is a mere reflection of Mahler’s six Chinoiserie songs sung live on stage. These presentations of texts from Hans Bethge’s The Chinese Flute where all human life and love is there, amid much drunkenness, lost youth and approaching death. Hard enough to express verbally, let alone sing or dance. Writing about ‘reflection’ in one song (‘Of Youth’) about the image of a pavilion seen in a pool, MacMillan has his dancers standing on their heads like reflections in that water, in ‘Of Beauty’ men ‘gallop’ in to find the girls picking lotus blossom … and that is about as literal as it gets.

Moments to remember are in the all-male first song when Valeri Hristov is held up and then rolled down in the arms of the other men, in another a woman is carefully cartwheeled over kneeling men, in another, the women are held on high and carried off the stage in the hands of two men accompanied by a third, linked man and in the final song ‘The Farewell’ Leanne Benjamin dives along the stage into the arms of Edward Watson as ‘The Messenger of Death’ and Valeri Hristov as ‘The Man’ in this important trio.

I thought almost all the dancing was very good, unfussy and clean with a great uniformity of style but with little individual flair or artistic depth that would make you drawn to one individual in particular or to be more moved by anyone (or all) of them … or perhaps that is the idea?  Of course the most outstanding was Leanne Benjamin in the second and last songs that you remember most, she has a small framed physique, born to dance, and steps of whatever complexity come effortlessly to her but – I must admit she is not the style of dancer I prefer – and yet again her fragile perfection elicits a certain coldness.

All through the programme the Royal Opera Orchestra under their music director Barry Wordsworth’s familiar baton, played as well as I have heard a ballet orchestra play for some while. Praise too also for Philip Gammon’s contribution at the piano for the Symphonic Variations. Veteran singers David Rendall and Jean Rigby sang Das Lied von der Erde quite effectively but again individual moments of musical interpretation were absent here too from the singers and orchestra because of the need to press on with the music and not leave the dancers’ legs hanging in the air.

Final thoughts? Well, ballet probably is still popular now because there are still enough people around who remember the names such as Diaghilev, de Valois, Ashton, Nureyev, Fonteyn, Dowell, Sibley et al. and to the few young people present they tell them of the days when they saw these ‘gods of dance’ – so like a tribute artist/band living off the back catalogue of the long dead ballet survives … but for how long?

 

Jim Pritchard