Rambert Dance Company
L'eveil, Gran Partita, Swansong, Infinity
London, Sadler's Wells


Melanie Teall's L'eveil was a delightful opening to Rambert's winter London visit. The somewhat gamelan-like beginning was a little long but it soon exploded into Kurt Weill's Je ne t'aime pas. It was an original song to choose for the female cast, who were at their best in the unison dancing where they displayed some really powerful movements. Little kittenish twitches of shoulders punctuated the powerhouse of movement and there were times when the lines and piles of bodies were reminiscent of Les Noces. Melanie Marshall's vocal depth of colour was all the more surprising in the second section, Feeling Good after the smoothness of the Weill. The only problems with the work were the dull and unflattering black leotards and the sense that this was only half a piece, ending just as it was getting interesting.

Gran Partita was a revisiting of Mozart for Rambert, although not one of the most memorable of his works. Again it was spoilt by ghastly leotards in garish, clashing colours, all of which seemed to be chosen for their poor lighting facility. Individual dancers had strong moments, particularly the men, but this needed dancers with stronger ballet technique and a greater appreciation of the lyrical. The women often looked stiff and not always certain in the partnering. It would have helped had the women been given more feminine costumes and if more space had been allowed between the dancers so that the ensemble could be appreciated rather than the frequent huddling stage centre.

Swansong needs no introduction; a seminal work that I hadn't seen since the London premiere with Koen Onzia, Matz Skoog and Kevin Richmond more than twenty years ago. A jolly hard act to follow but Dane Hurst, Eryck Brahmania and Renaud Wiser acquitted themselves very well. Brahmania has gained a lot of strength since he danced Mukhamedev's Spartacus in Hong Kong where he already displayed his fine line and acting ability. He and Wiser were a suitably sinister double act but this was Dane Hurst's night: guesting from Phoenix Dance, he gave a mighty performance in a mighty work. The simplicity of the approach conveys hidden depths of meaning, perfectly partnered by Philip Chambon's score with its percussion, soft shoe shuffle and suggestion of Latin America. The fact that the subject is just as relevant today is a bitter pill but proof positive of the power of dance that would be a lesson well learned by many of today's self-absorbed choreographers.

What a pity then that such a strong evening ended with Gary Stewart's Infinity. The pyschobabble in the programme was a forewarning of gloom duly delivered. This was an empty work with a lot of frenetic jigging on the part of the dancers for no apparent reason. Streams of red paper poured from the flies throughout and I suppose that it would be possible to dredge up some sort of justification for it all but it really wasn't worth the effort. Luke Smiles' score clunked predictably except for the section where an over-amplified broken gutter sound effect drowned it out. My companion remarked that the white costumes reminded him of the ending of H.G. Wells' The Time Machine. It was mercifully not too long, although we both rather hoped that morlocks would appear and pick off the dancers one by one.

Charlotte Kasner


Image: Swansong; photo  Anthony Crickmay