Partnering with The Australian Ballet and The Australian Ballet School, Channel Ten will launch the premiere of its new children’s series, Once Upon A Dream, on October 16^th, which will air Tuesdays and Wednesdays at 4pm. Over six episodes, the documentary-style series reveals what it takes to be a part of our national ballet company, taking viewers behind the scenes of The Australian Ballet’s production of Swan Lake. In anticipation of the series’ launch, Dance Informa’s Grace Edwards spoke to Australian Ballet soloist, Rudy Hawkes, who features extensively in the series, about what it takes to become a dancer.

Can you take us through your first memory of dance? What happened and what it was like?

It was my mum’s idea – she had always had a passion for ballet and asked if I wanted to go along. I had no idea what I was in for, so my first memory was me jumping around a class full of girls and getting really tired. I remember really enjoying it and wanting to do more, which I think took my mum a bit by surprise! It was a good surprise though, because I was a really hyperactive kid and she wanted something to tire me out.

When did you make the transition mentally from dancing for fun and deciding this was the career for you?

I was fairly into it when I moved to Melbourne to attend the Australian Ballet School. It was probably about half way through my first year of ballet school that I decided I wanted to make dance my career – watching the men of the Australian Ballet Company and seeing what they were doing every day for a job and getting paid for it inspired me. They were all fantastic dancers and I thought, “Yeah, that’s what I want to do, that’s where I want my dancing to take me.”

Growing up, was there ever a time when you thought, ‘Can I do this? Is this the right career for me?’

Yes definitely, there was always doubt, but I definitely wasn’t one to think, “Oh, am I going to be a doctor or am I going to be a dancer?” I was never that good at school or focusing my attention to books, so it was either I really try hard at dancing or knuckle down and do school work properly. I decided to knuckle down and become the best dancer that I could, so there was never really doubt about that, I suppose.

In Once Upon A Dream we get to go behind the scenes of the Australian Ballet, witness the dedication of the dancers and the team that supports them. Who are the unsung heroes of the ballet, in your opinion?

Our coaching staff and dancing staff put so many hours into making everything look right and they don’t always get the mention that I think they deserve. There are so many unsung heroes – once you get to the theatre, it’s the backstage crew that make things come alive, and wardrobe too. That’s why I think Once Upon A Dream will be interesting because it doesn’t just show the ballet dancers in costume, it shows everything else too, like the medical team who look after us if we get injured, and the choreographers. I think it will be a good insight into our little world.

What is the most challenging aspect of life as a professional dancer that you think audiences often don’t see?

It’s all pretty challenging – rehearsing every day, and even class! We always do ballet class in the morning just to keep moving and keep our technique strong. I was struggling a bit today. Things that you can do one day, the next day make you feel completely silly or uncoordinated, for instance, realising you can’t turn more than three times because you’re falling over yourself. It’s an on-going battle to keep your body doing what you want it to do and training it so that when you’re on stage it comes naturally. At the end of the day, the goal is to make everything look effortless. The audience might not realise how hard some of this stuff really is.

What do you love most about life as a performer?

Performing! You get a chance to transport the audience into a new world, help them escape the daily grind, go somewhere else and hopefully enjoy themselves. In doing that, I also get to escape by becoming a different character and to feel free whilst dancing. You feel alone in your own world even though there are many people watching you.

We look forward to seeing you on our screens Rudy. No doubt there will be a lot more people watching you soon!

First published in Dance Informa Magazine

The principal dancers were technically assured. Nariman Bekzhanov in particular stood out as a dynamic and exciting dancer; sadly, his presence highlighted by contrast the lifelessness of the rest of the cast. Radamaria Nazarenko-Duminica’s Princess Aurora was careful and steady, but lacked the youthful vivacity required of the teenaged royal. Several of the fairies looked nervous whilst performing their variations, and this was no doubt due in part to fatigue from the company’s tight rehearsal and performance schedule. Apart from being genuinely dangerous, the result was a tired cast who appeared to simply run through the motions.

The relatively small stage on which the company performed at Her Majesty’s Theatre noticeably restricted the dancers, particularly in passages of leaps and turns, making it difficult for the dancers to let go and do justice to the choreography. However, there were glimpses of the performance the company might have given, particularly in the third act divertissements such as the Puss in Boots pas de deux, in which performers showcased their great chemistry and natural cheekiness, and the Little Red Riding Hood/Grey Wolf pas de deux, through which the dancers displayed a flair for the dramatic.

First-time ballet-goers unfamiliar with the classics, nonetheless, would be better off waiting to see a production by The Australian Ballet.

An extensively edited version of this review was published in Dance Informa

The Peony Pavilion, presented by the National Ballet of China with the National Ballet of China Symphony Orchestra

State Theatre, Arts Centre Melbourne, 15-18 March 2012.

Approximately 2 hours with one interval

The Peony Pavilion is a love story that takes place within a dream. Du Liniang, a beautiful woman from a wealthy family, falls asleep by a peony pavilion and dreams of a handsome scholar whom she has never met. Unable to find him in the real world, she dies of a broken heart and ends up in the Underworld. Her story moves the Infernal Judge to release her ghost back into the land of the living to find and marry the elusive scholar. The ballet ends with an unusual wedding ceremony fitting for the union of phantom and mortal.

The performers are a joy to watch and the strength of the corps de ballet is noteworthy. The principal dancers demonstrate their fine-tuned technical and dramatic abilities admirably, and the fluid execution of the first act pas de deux between Liniang (Zhu Yan) and her lover (Li Jun) captures beautifully the artless passion of first-time love.

Some aspects of the production are inevitably lost in translation. The sexual metaphor of taking off shoes in Chinese culture, for instance, comprises one of the most enduring images of the production, and these sexual connotations are underlined by the use of Debussy’s L’apres-midi d’un Faune, bringing to mind the daring and erotic Ballets Russes production of the same name choreographed by Vaslav Nijinsky in 1912. However, it is unlikely that the majority of audiences will make the connection between these two elements.

Similarly, the concept of using three dancers to portray one character is potentially confusing for the uninitiated. The role of Kunqu, the operatic vocalist, who represents the heroine’s moral restraint, is particularly difficult to place without referring back to the programme. Unlike the Flower Goddess, who represents the heroine’s passion, Kunqu’s movements do not explicitly link her to the heroine and her unfamiliar lyrics, sung in Chinese, are of no help to western audiences in making such leaps of imagination.

The second act, including both the Underworld and wedding scenes, is structurally far clearer than the first, which possesses a quality of sameness that does not match the drama of the plot. Despite the size of the State Theatre, the stage feels crowded with dancers in several scenes of the first act; whilst the principal dancers manoeuvre past each other admirably, one unfortunate corps de ballet member proved the victim of circumstance on the opening night and fell during one of the ensemble’s opening sequences in the first act. The production, however, is evidently very well-rehearsed and no doubt greater familiarity with the stage will prevent such a mishap in future performances. The second act, meanwhile, proved lucid and engaging.

The final wedding scene is the show’s stunning highlight; taking place in front of the translucent, grey-white backdrop – a liminal space somewhere between Heaven and Hell – figures from the two realms circle the young lovers performing repetitive gestures in a bizarre ritual. The pace and volume of the ceremony intensifies until finally, red peony petals fall from the sky in a rousing climax. The sustained and streamlined build-up of this scene in terms of orchestral and ensemble strength and pace is at the heart of its effectiveness.

Ballet clichés were somewhat overused throughout; whilst this may have been a result of an attempt to incorporate the essentialism of Chinese operatic convention – for instance, in emphasising demure nature of the heroine characteristic of the zhengdan (tragic or serious heroine) – it nonetheless detracted from a full realisation of the choreographic potential of the storyline. Though choreographer, Fei Bo, possesses a background in contemporary dance, there is little evidence of this in the ballet, which is fairly traditional in its movement vocabulary.

Overall, however, The Peony Pavilion is an enjoyable, high-standard production and a unique showcase for the world-class talents of the National Ballet of China. As a Chinese love story in the vein of Romeo and Juliet, it has a broad appeal despite the unfamiliarity of various elements related to operatic convention and Chinese metaphor used throughout, and ballet-lovers will find this production well worth their patronage.

To book tickets and for more information, visit http://www.artscentremelbourne.com.au

Review written for Dance Informa Magazine

Malthouse Theatre

Chunky Move’s Assembly is Artistic Director Gideon Obarzanek’s final work with the company. Produced in collaboration with the Victorian Opera, it is in one a study in the motion of crowds, a salute to the collaborative possibilities of the age-old partnership between music and dance, and a swan song for Obarzanek which marks the end of a triumphant fifteen-year era in the history of Victorian contemporary dance.

The scale of the work reflected the occasion, featuring over sixty singers and dancers performing on a giant staircase set up on the stage of the Melbourne Recital Centre. The choice of music accompanying this experiment appeared surprising. Rather than a contemporary soundscape, Assembly offered its audience a selection of unaccompanied vocal works from the plainchant of the Middle Ages to the music of late Renaissance composers Carlo Gesualdo and Tomas Luis de Victoria. The choice reflected Obarzanek’s desire to work with nothing but pure vocal sound and movement, devoid of technical special effects or wizardry.

Opening on a staircase filled with performers, the crowd launched into a million discussions, creating a wall of sound above which no individual conversations could be heard. This is the anonymity of the crowd, at once comforting and frustrating. The performers underwent a number of subsequent permutations, from navigating past each other’s bodies like pedestrians to performing simply movements in unison.

Whilst these sequences were interesting in their own right, they did not ultimately transcend their original context. There is a fine line between art through emulation and simple imitation; at times, the crowd sequences appeared to veer towards the latter, with rather literal presentations of a football shouting match, dozens of individuals talking at once, moving past each other as if walking on the street. Indeed, part of the magic of crowds is their spontaneity; the reason why people-watching can be so fascinating. Simply transferring such experiences to the stage stripped these moments of their interest whilst offering little as replacement.

The length of the opening also foreshadowed what would prove to be the generally static pace of this work. Lacking a sense of progression towards any sort of climax, Assembly remained somewhat cold and abstracted throughout on more than one occasion, causing one to wonder where it was all leading.
Performers Harriet Ritchie and Sara Black were, as always it seems, standouts – dynamic agents amidst the throng of performers, throwing themselves across the merciless staircase with abandon whilst maintaining masterful control of their bodies. As an ensemble, the dancers impressed with their dynamism and commitment to the work. The singers were equally impressive in their vocal clarity, their voice projecting beautifully across the auditorium amidst the sounds of movement onstage.

The most interesting sequence was that in which the crowd followed individual performers to the furthest points of the set, flocking like sheep to engulf those who dared stand out. The music echoed this theme at many points in the work with a single voice piercing the auditorium before being subsumed by other voices in a beautiful wall of sound. These aspects perhaps lit a path towards a more transformative approach to crowd behaviour.

Whilst this was not Chunky Move’s strongest work of recent years, the risk-taking, collaborative approach of Assembly makes it a fitting tribute to Obarzanek; a contemporary dance icon who has consistently stayed one step ahead of the crowd.
Photo: Assembly in rehearsal. Photo by Jeff Busby

Published in Dance Informa Magazine

Every Step You Take: A Memoir by Jock Soto is a book soon to find its way on to many a bookshelf. In it, Soto recounts his childhood, life as a student dancer, his career with the New York City Ballet and his rise through the ranks, retirement from the ballet profession and his post-retirement lifestyle.Unlike many other dancer memoirs, this book is less about the making of a star dancer than it is a kind of life review; Soto has paused to consider aspects of his life not previously acknowledged and to journey back through his family history.

Memories of Soto’s mother, who was diagnosed with cancer and passed away in 2008, permeate this book. Collectively, they provide it with a sort of ‘living past’ – Soto’s palpable grief and reverence of Mama Jo’s memory, though very much in the present, act as a natural gateway to reflections on his past as he relates his very first memory of dancing on the reserve with her in his childhood. Whilst at times, the memoir threatens to become more about Mama Jo than about Soto, I personally found these passages moving and thoroughly enriching to the whole.

Other aspects of Soto’s life treated in the book include his complicated relationship with his father, his mother’s Navajo family and his numerous romantic relationships. Raw and honest, even occasionally unflattering, Soto’s account of his life is in many ways nonetheless a classic rags-to-riches story (I use the word ‘riches’ in its broadest sense) about a talented dancer overcoming great personal, cultural and financial hurdles to achieve success. From amongst the chaos, dance consistently emerges as one of the least complicated aspects of Soto’s life, providing him the stability and purpose at times lacking in other areas of his life.

The flip side of this focus on the intensely personal, however, is that there is rather little about the everyday struggles of becoming a dancer; though we learn of Soto’s insecurities about his looks and physique, there is little about the difficulties of mastering technique, the teaching styles of his mentors, the discipline of the classroom, the mantras that kept him going when it all seemed too hard – in short, the sorts of aspects of Soto’s life that might appeal to young and aspiring dancers eager to see reflections of themselves in Soto’s memoir.

An engaging feature of the book is its many recipes. These are included at the end of each chapter and are connected with either a particular anecdote or theme contained within it. I have yet to try the recipes out, but some of them look quite appetising and it is only a matter of time. My particular favourite at the moment is the tiramisu, included thanks to a hilarious story involving a tiramisu filled with gorgonzola (a smelly blue cheese) instead of marscapone. The recipes reflect the growing importance of food in Soto’s life since his retirement, a facet augmented his post-retirement culinary studies and his long-term relationship with sommelier Luis Fuentes, who shares this passion.

Every Step You Take is a highly readable, personal take on a remarkable life. I recommend it not only to aspiring dancers and artists, but also to the general reader for whom Soto’s memoir will prove both relatable and inspiring.

Biography of Jock Soto (from the book cover):

“Jock Soto joined the New York City Ballet in 1981. He was promoted to soloist in 1984 and to principal dancer in 1985. He has danced featured roles in countless ballets, many of which were created specifically for him. He has been a permanent member of the faculty at the School of American Ballet since 1996, and in 2007 he was the subject of the critically acclaimed documentary Water Flowing Together. He lives in New York City with his partner, Luis Fuentes, a sommelier.”

Creating a new ballet is never easy, but when that ballet is King Arthur and the Tales of Camelot, the pressure is on. Inspired by the popular novel, The Mists of Avalon, the Queensland Ballet’s latest work is the result of Artistic Director François Klaus’ ongoing fascination with the Arthurian legend— a passion he discovered whilst creating the lead role of King Arthur in John Neumeier’s King Arthur’s Saga during his time working with the Hamburg Ballet. Klaus let Dance Informa’s Grace Edwards in on the preparations behind staging such an iconic story.

In this production, both choreography and poetic text are used to make the epic plot easier to follow. “Dance is very adept at showing emotions, so with that you can build quite a lot,” says Klaus. “The problem in dance, however, is that you cannot say, you know, ‘This man is my brother.’ Ultimately, the majority of people respond better to dance if they understand the context in which it happens, and that is the key to trying to make ballet mean something.”

A ballet means nothing, of course, without its dancers. Upcoming performances will feature Rachel Walsh as Queen Guinevere and Keian Langdon as King Arthur. The role of King Arthur’s half-sister, pivotal in Klaus’ version, will be performed by Claire Morehan. Responsible for delivering the text in his role as Merlin is former Expressions Dance Company member Dan Crestani, whose dramatic portrayals of characters such as Richard III brought him to Klaus’ attention.

Klaus admits to a fairly personal casting process, with strong ideas about who will perform which roles from the beginning. “Not that you should put the dancers in a box”, he warns. “But when you have your own company you tend to shape it over the years, to a large extent, to your taste. You know how you like people to dance and when you are the chief choreographer, you tend to associate characters with some of the people you already have in the company because you know that they fit those roles very well.”

Other aspects of the creative process, nonetheless, require teamwork. “We work quite closely together really,” reflects Klaus. “There’s David Walters, our lighting designer. David is extremely good at working out the reasons and motivations of the plot. I know he is technically there for the lighting design, but he is really good dramatically as well. And my wife Robyn – we make a trio that work really closely together right from the beginning. And then of course the designer for the set will be present, not as intensively, but of course he is the one who has to realise optically how the ballet is going to be presented.”

“Musically, I work quite closely with Greg Young, who is there to conduct, but at the same time we have a relatively small orchestra so he arranges the music for that ensemble. He’s a very good pianist as well. He even has to compose for some parts or elements of the ballets sometimes. So yes, that’s how you assemble the puzzle!”

With so many parts of the jigsaw to juggle, it becomes difficult to measure the time commitment involved in creating a ballet. “In the studio with the dancers I usually work quickly – it is easier for me because I’m more aware of what I’m doing. If I hesitate too much, I find it difficult to keep inspired. So on a good day I work quickly. But the preparation period before you enter the studio with dancers, is what takes a long time.”

“Like right now I’m reading material for something I’m going to do in a year and a half. But that’s not really like work, you just read books and have things in the back of your mind. It’s not intensive work, but it’s background and once you have that you can get more practical and see what you want to do with it.”

So how does one know when a ballet is complete? For Klaus, the answer is never. “I will always modify my ballets. Some you are really happy with right away and you may hardly touch, though others you may feel you have to work at again and again as you feel you can do better. You know, sometimes a very small change can make quite a difference, because a lot of it has to do with timing and speed.”

King Arthur, Klaus admits, falls into the latter category. “I think it is one I have had to work on quite a lot,” he says. “I did an attempt a few years ago and I just feel that now, I have the company capable of doing it.” Soon enough, the Queensland Ballet will have the opportunity to prove it.

Queensland Ballet presents King Arthur and the Tales of Camelot at the Playhouse, QPAC, 15 – 29 October. For more information on the production, visit queenslandballet.com.au.
Bookings qtix 136 246 or qpac.com.au

Published in Dance Informa