Royal Festival Hall, London
August 5, 2016
Róisín O’Brien
Body. Dance. Nation. City., performed by the corps of the Ballet National de Marseille, is described as an exploration of both individual and group identities, but it lacks an identity of its own. A haphazard structure, coupled with dancers sometimes unsure of their footing, makes this piece slightly underwhelming.
Based on the different personalities of its dancers, Body. Dance. Nation. City. moves jaggedly between classical repertoire and a convoluting and arching upper-body-dominated contemporary technique. It has an eclectic soundtrack ranging from angry rock, blaring hip-hop or swelling violins, presumably also from the dancers’ experiences. How successfully these tracks are paired with the traditional ballet sequences varies. At times it is refreshing to see classical work out of its comfort zone, at other times the steps appear dated and regurgitated, rather than really lived or interrogated.
Each dancer has their own moment in the spotlight or pas de deux, before the piece settles back into group formations. At times, the dancers randomly break formation, shout at each other or dutifully cover and uncover their faces with masks. But these are just moments placed side by side – I had no sense of development or a coherent vision about the interplay between individual and society.
Photo A Poiana
The strength of the work lies in the contemporary sections danced in unison, with the cast exhibiting a buzzing group energy of pulsing rhythms. Emio Greco and Pieter C. Scholten have choreographed some striking moments of catch and release; the dancers swiftly break from static poses or classical steps to more undulating, amphibian like movement.
Body. Dance. Nation. City, at times, has a fun and slightly cocky air: it laughs at the peacocking bravado of male ballet steps as it puts them under a spotlight. And yet, the dancers often then lapse back into staring out to the audience. This intentionally confrontational move loses some of its daring due to repetition and a lack of consideration about why the dancers should stare out at the audience in the first place.
The dancer’s technique is not always consistent, either. Alongside the frequent changes in style, there are also several changes from canvas to pointe shoes. Perhaps such drastic changes between stability and lability could excuse some wobbly balances, but coupled with some splayed feet and a few missed counts, I felt the dancers could have done with a few more hours in the studio.
By the end of the evening, I was asking why the choreographers used ballet at all. I’m not at all suggesting that ballet can’t tackle such themes, but this piece doesn’t use the art form fully although it does have its moments. Here and there, we are presented, for instance, with an interesting reorientation of the third arabesque. Furthermore, some of the jump sections really excitingly tackle the air (an energy sometimes lacking in traditional ballet). But overall, the piece neither told me much about identity, or how ballet can shape or reflect it.
A stand out moment was one male dancer’s use of pointe shoes. Such a novelty can still seem jarring, for the lines change due to a different body shape, and the gender roles of the ballet get confused, but not being used to seeing such shapes, they do appear strange. This particular dancer’s pas de deux (whose partner was also on pointe) does have a nice eeriness to it, though: two dancers, precariously balancing and floating across the stage, leaning on each other for support. If more men wish to use pointe, perhaps they, and their choreographers, will stop just doing the steps traditionally done on pointe and create something really innovative like this. This moment in Body. Dance. Nation. City. excited me; the rest passed by uneventfully.
Body. Dance. Nation. City. was part of the Southbank Centre’s Festival of Love, which runs to August 29. For more events visit www.southbankcentre.co.uk/festival-of-love.