Three generations of dances in a super Birmingham Royal Ballet mixed bill

Birmingham Hippodrome
June 8, 2023

There was a time when Birmingham Royal Ballet used to dance quite a lot of Balanchine; everything from the academic, slightly austere ‘black & white’ ballets, through the Russian classicism of Theme and Variations, to the fun of the likes of Western Symphony. And rather well they did them all, too. But as triple bills disappeared from its programming, so did Mr B.

So, a huge welcome back for Apollo, remarkably now only five years from the hundredth anniversary of its creation. It’s actually the second ballet to Stravinsky’s score, which was originally performed with choreography by Adolph Bolm at a festival of contemporary music at the Library of Congress in Washington D.C. But, looking to make some money, the composer then offered the music to Diaghilev, who in turn offered it to the then 24-year-old George Balanchine. The rest is history, the choreographer once describing his ballet as the turning point of his life.

Birmingham Royal Ballet dance the now rarely seen original version, complete with the prologue that depicts Apollo’s birth. While it sets the idea of the newly born god exploring the world and the arts, it’s the one part of the work I’ve never been convinced by. Presumably, neither was Balanchine by the 1970s, when he deleted those first few minutes, at a stroke turning the ballet from semi-narrative to abstract. Much better for it, it is too.

The handsome Brandon Lawrence was elegant as the god, his strong jumps soaring heavenwards. He came across as a more mature Apollo than some, and a little aloof. There seemed to be a distance, although things did lighten up in the divine main pas de deux with Celine Gittens’ fresh and breezy Terpsichore, when their rapport was divine.

Elsewhere, Lucy Waine was an expansive if serious-looking Calliope, while Amelia Thompson looked very at one with Polyhmnia, the flirtatious muse of mime.

And yet something didn’t feel quite right. There were times when it flowed exquisitely but, overall, it didn’t feel crisp. It didn’t fully come alive or sing to me as I remember it doing in the past. Perhaps that’s just a function of time and memory (it has been a long time since I last saw Apollo, even in New York), or maybe it’s something to do with the ballet’s iconic status and trying to be too reverential. Clarity of movement also seemed to be lacking here and there, the famous sunburst moment a case in point.

But it is so good to see Balanchine back in Brum. I know companies can’t dance everything, but more please!

The programme’s high spot was undoubtedly Juliano Nunes’ Interlinked, returning after its premiere last year. Seeing it again just confirmed everything I thought previously. The title is perfect. There’s something about the way every step, indeed, every movement, every section of the work, flows effortlessly into the next.

Nunes has all 17 dancers, male and female, in airy Romantic-style tutu-skirts, each coloured to match their wearer’s skin tone, which leads one to at least think about gender and how we perceive it. And yet, the differences between men and women are still very visible, even when the steps are the same as in the ensemble sections.

It’s danced to an insistent but at times very cinematic, soaring score by Australian composer, Luke Howard. After a big, whole-cast opening movement that reminds one of birds and big skies, the work generally consists of duets and small group dances. Each is different, but there’s an invisible thread that runs through them all. Links (that word again!) are everywhere.

For all the lovely architecture of the big sections, it’s the two main duets that stand out. Both are very emotionally moving. That between Tzu-chao Chou and Tyrone Singleton is a dream. Roles keep changing as they move around one another, supporting each other in turn. More classically traditional is the gentle, closing pas de deux for Singleton and Momoko Hirata, which ends the ballet with her carried off, lifted high.

‘Still Life’ at the Penguin Café remains one of David Bintley’s most loved ballets. Although it was Simon Jeffs’ music that first attracted him, the ballet is notable for its deeper concerns with the destruction of the planet and the extinction of species. Made in 1988, when concern for the environment and all life was not quite the topical subject it is today, in one sense it was way ahead of its time.

While it has never been a favourite ballet personally, that it conveys its message well is undeniable. One reason is the way Bintley lulls you into a false sense of security. The opening scenes are full of adorable, even cute, animals. And yet, they are all endangered or extinct. The ‘still life’ of the title.

They shift from the dapper, sleek and classy to the quirky and humorous. In ‘Air à danser’ (Reina Fuchigami as The Great Auk) and ‘Prelude and Yodel’ (Samara Downs as the Utah Longhorn Ram with Lachlan Monaghan), Hayden Griffin’s dresses for the women are quite stunning. Tzu-Chao Chou is a delightful sleepy Texas Kangaroo Rat. There’s even a dash of folk as a Humboldt’s Hog-nosed Skunk Flea (Karla Doorbar) takes its life in its hands with a group of enthusiastic Morris dancers.

It’s during the dance for the elegant Southern Cape Zebras (more fabulous dresses) that things take a sudden and unexpected turn. When the herd’s male (Tyrone Singleton) is shot, ‘Still Life’ suddenly becomes very much darker. The female zebras’ indifference when he falls is striking.

The colourful, lush backgrounds that accompany the animals contrasts starkly with the austere setting that is home to the three humans (Lennert Steegen, Céline Gittens and young Honey O’Sullivan), a family displaced from their rain forest home. It’s a place devoid of wildlife too. The child hints at the future and makes you wonder. Is this what we are leaving for them?

But it’s not a ballet without hope. There’s a party, led by the effervescent Brazilian Woolly Monkey (Matthias Dingman), who leads everyone to safety, and that final image of the so poignant ark, all the creatures that have entertained us safely inside.