Colourful hops
Giannandrea Poesio
Les Saisons Royal Ballet Living Costs DV8 Physical Theatre, Tate Modem
Asexancler Glazunov's 1900 ballet Les aisons was the last in a long line of similarly themed creations of the 19th century. The popularity of the subject stemmed from the fact that it allowed four famous dancers — or more, if each season was portrayed by a couple or a trio — to perform on the same occasion, a publicity stunt first used by English impresario Benjamin Lumley for the legendary Pas de Quatre at Her Majesty's Theatre in 1845. Either as independent works, or as divertissements in different contexts, as in the case of Verdi's opera Les Vepres Siciliennes, the various 'seasons' ballets relied mainly on a contrasting display of diverse technical abilities.
Despite his much admired inventiveness, Glazunov, one of the few serious ballet composers of the pre-Stravinsky era, did not move that drastically away from the well-established formulae that some of his predecessors, including Verdi, had referred to in creating tunes that suited particular choreographic demands. No matter how seductively elegant and evocative of the glorious days of the Imperial Russian Ballet, the score of Les Saisons is still constructed on easily identifiable musical cliches and conventions, such as 'shivering' chords for Winter, 'lazy' tunes for Summer and jolly, wine-induced danse villageaoise motifs for Autumn.
A contemporary staging of the ballet, therefore, cannot ignore the intricate web of musical and choreographic references that come with the work, something I expected David Bintley, Birmingham Royal Ballet's artistic director, to pick up and work on, After all, his plotless works have always relied on a deep understanding of both the score and cultural context. Yet what I saw did not match my expectations. Bintley's new version of the Glazunov work, as part of a triple bill that also includes Ashton's Scenes de Ballet and MacMillan's Song of the Earth, is a rather indigestible hybrid that makes little sense.
The movement vocabulary shifts continuously from pure classical solutions to more contemporary ones, at the expense of the dancers who have to deal with a choreographic text that looks unnecessarily complicated. There is no discernible syntax and no discernible artistic choices; movements quoted more or less intentionally from a range of classical and neo-classical works look as if they have been thrown in for the sake of it. And there is no humour either, despite the over-thetop, post-modern neon-lit sets and the excessively coloured costumes — which seem to indulge in, more than comment on, the worst balletic stereotypes. Indeed, those who like ballet to be an empty, exceedingly colourful display of skips and hops might find this version of Les Saisons ideal. I found it utterly tedious, despite the presence of excellent artists such as Jamie Tapper, Marianela Nunez, Mara Galeazzi, Alina Cojocaru and Johann Kobborg.
Luckily, my depressed dance-goer's morale was lifted the following night by Living Costs, DV8 Physical Theatre's promenade performance at Tate Modern. It is difficult to write about the gamut of feelings experienced during the one-and-ah alf-hour-long performance. And it is difficult to explain what the performance consisted of, for a list of the now amusing, now provocative, now thought-provoking images that bombarded the viewers during their guided tour — complete with earphones and live commentary — would not provide the reader with a clear idea.
The interaction with the sections becomes the main thread of the performance as well as the unifying element of the apparently disjointed, yet complementary situations that are created in a crescendo of tensions and emotions.
Guided by a stern-looking Wendy Houston, who indulges in disquisitions on post-modernism and ways of seeing art, the audience moves from the gloomy vastness of the Turbine Hall, which provides the background to circus acts as well as to a Follies number, to the more intimate heights of the top floors, where the performers become exhibits, eliciting all sorts of reactions from the viewers — I found the mature female nude, Diana PayneMyers, carrying the sign 'Please Touch', particularly moving and disturbing at the same time. Living Costs is dance theatre at its best and dance theatre as it has not been seen, and experienced, for years.
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