Cuvilliés Theatre, Munich
July 21, 2024
Sphären (Spheres) is a series devised by Bayerisches Staatsballett director Laurent Hilaire that aims to focus on the younger generation of dance makers, to make connections within a choreographic ‘sphere’ and see where dance might go in the future.
This year’s edition, Sphären.02, presented at the Rococo jewel that is Munich’s Cuvilliés-Theater, certainly embraced a spectrum of styles. There were strong hints of narrative and abstract creations. Some of the choreography was tightly constructed, some appeared almost improvisational and looser in nature. Whether any of it told us much about future directions for ballet or dance more generally is highly questionable, however.
The evening was curated by Angelin Preljocaj. Given the series’ aims, it seems odd that it should open not only with a piece of his own but Un trait d’union (Hyphen), which dates from 1989.
It’s essentially a work about human connection, about trust, and in which Preljocaj plays with gravity and its effect on movement. It opens with Severin Brunhuber on a chair. Restless and apparently trapped in some sort of solitary existence, he does anything but sit still. He lays on it, jumps on it, rolls over it. In its way, it is balletic. Certainly graceful. But it does quickly start to feel like an exercise in ‘how many ways can we use this object.’
When Konstantin Ivkin appears in the scene, there’s more than a suggestion that he’s not really physically there but instead someone in Brunhuber’s mind. The two men both support and fight each other. You wonder if the new figure is some sort of alter ego. Is he battling himself? There’s a lot of diving through the air. One moment, when Brunhuber rises from the floor as if gravity has been momentarily suspended, initially has you wondering, ‘How was that done?’ Until it’s repeated. And again. And you start to work it out.
It was all superbly executed, but it struggled to engage. The fact that much of it is performed in silence between occasional snatches of the Largo from Bach’s Piano Concerto No.5 and Marc Khanne’s soundscape probably didn’t help.
It is often rightly said that we need to understand, appreciate and learn from the past to be able to look forward. Maybe Prelocaj thought such an opener might help the viewer see or understand more what followed, because one thing Un trait d’union did not feel, was new.
The rest of the programme had a distinctly French flavour too, starting with Le spectre de la rose by Émilie Lalande, a former dancer in Prelocaj’s company and in which she reflects on a love relationship, interpreted by two couples, in two different ways.
As they dance to Hector Berlioz’ orchestration of Carl-Maria von Weber’s Invitation to the Dance, with additional music by Mickaël Lafont und Émilie Lalande, one pairing seems largely in accord, one more fractious. One also employs more classical movement, one more contemporary, although the latter alternates between the two and generally has a clear ballet base. The result is a clash of styles that is interesting if not always harmonious, with the classically romantic couple generally overshadowed by the modern, more real-life pairing.
The foursome of Zhanna Gubanova, Phoebe Schembri, Matteo Dilaghi and Soren Sakadales get very close to mime at times, before the choreography bursts into a feast of dance, amidst which there are some very appealing moments, including a two slow unison duets as the couples come together. There’s also some super imagery, not least the arrival of a large pink swing towards the end, ridden by Gubanova, and a lot of petals.
Le spectre de la rose was the best and most innovative of the three works by some distance, although I’m unconvinced that it told us much new about the possibilities for dance, however.
Far from looking forward, the closing Skinny Hearts by Edouard Hue brought a powerful sense of déjà vu.
It features eight women. To driving music by Jonathan Soucasse that pushes them ever on, and like humanoid but alien creatures, they walk on demi-pointe. Their awkward, spindly way of moving, backs crooked, arms held strangely, suggests frailty. Within that, classical moments appear and disappear. It was impossible not to draw close comparison to much of Sharon Eyal’s work, although her dancers tend to walk higher on the toes, move more sharply, and her classical references are less overt.
It was very watchable. Structurally, Hue’s choreography is complex, the group forming into various patterns that appear and dissolve with ease, only for another to immediately take shape. And, as with the rest of the evening, the dancers were terrific. But also, as with the rest of the evening, Skinny Hearts doesn’t even start to draw back the curtain on where dance might be heading.