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Les Grands Ballets Canadiens de Montréal
Théâtre Maisonneuve, Place des Arts September 28, 2002
MacMillan's Gloria is a ballet that delves into the raw emotions
of soldiers on a WWI battlefield. There is no clear narrative; MacMillan
is not exposing the story of just one person. Instead, he gives his
homage to the many who gave their lives so selflessly. In what must
surely be their last moments in the desolate, gray landscape, the soldiers
relive happier times with the spirits of women from their pre-war lives.
There is an almost buoyant otherworldliness in their interactions, a
defiant contrast to their stark surroundings. A sense of firm resolve
is displayed in the hearty choreography, the dancers soaring across
the stage with one another until they finally bound into the wings.
The omnipresent melancholy entrenched in the utter hopelessness of
war comes to light in the partnering work of the pas de trois and the
pas de quatre. In a very poignant moment, Anik Bissonette is lifted
high between Frédéric Tavernini and Mário Radacovský where she is carefully
balanced between the two, held aloft by the bodies of the two men as
all three stretch their arms to the heavens. These three dancers gave
very sound and effective performances, as did the rest of the company,
who gave themselves completely to the choreography. There were a few
little bobbles at the beginning of the pas de quatre, but Geneviève
Guérard seemed well anchored and solid, and the three men with whom
she was partnered were quickly back on track.
Close to the end, the dancers are clustered on stage in pairs, their
heads slowly tilt to the heavens while the choir sings a resounding
chorus of Amens. This simple movement puts to rest the soldiers' emotional
turmoil and the chaos of war, producing a sense of peace. The final
moment of the ballet, as the last stoic soldier goes bravely to what
will become his grave, is a heart-wrenching and indelible reminder of
every individual sacrifice made in the war. In times of peace, it is
easy to put aside the human face of war; MacMillan reminds us in a way
that is not cloying through this heartfelt commemoration.
Bronislava Nijinksa's Les Noces (1923) instantly comes to mind
when confronted by a ballet using music of the same name created by
Stravinsky for the aforementioned work. At the outset, Stijn Celis'
new creation, Noces, does not seem to stray very far from the
original concept. It too is a somewhat austere interpretation of a peasant
wedding.
Noces opens with a sombre choir gathered around four grooms,
each seated on one of four long wooden benches. As the choir moves into
the wings, the lament of their song is echoed by the For much of the ballet, the men and women perform all together in their
respective groups, effectively working out patterns that reflect the
abstract yet complex organization structures of the music. The image
of twelve dancers moving together is very powerful, but any irregularity
on the part of individuals is evident when juxtaposed against eleven
other bodies doing the same. For the most part though, the dancers moved
in seamless unison.
Throughout the work, the dancers move the benches into different formations
on the stage, delineating the space and the course of the action. This
was accomplished flawlessly. I have a personal pet peeve with extraneous
props that act as some kind of filler for the dance you wonder
if the work could have done just fine without them. The benches, in
this case, are an integral part of the work. In an especially magnetic
moment in the choreography, one bench functions as a platform for a
lightning fast duet that takes place center stage. The benches also
serve the choreography well when the men are seated on them downstage
with their backs to the audience, who must look past the men to see
the women whirling like dervishes. Finally, the men leap up and snatch
a girl each, dragging them back, violently bouncing the girls on their
laps like rag dolls, again with their backs to the audience. This reinforces
the audience's outside view of the wedding scene, and allows for an
examination of this social ritual in a way that is doubly removed.
This is where Celis seems to break away from Ninjinska's Les Noces.
Whereas Nijinska is said to have intended to portray the mechanical
nature of Stravinsky's score with her heavily stylized choreography,
Celis' version questions the validity of the marriage institution itself.
In his staging, Celis does not try to deconstruct the "fourth wall,"
and allow the audience to take pleasure in the wedding party. Instead,
he uses half of the performers to separate the audience from the action.
I found it interesting that the parents who oversee the action in Nijinska's
version are also absent from his rendering. This deliberate departure
from the traditional is further exemplified by the choreography itself,
which like Ninjinska's, is not only decidedly modern but at times almost
chaotic. In the future I would like to see Noces performed by
many different companies, both ballet and modern, because it is such
a multi-layered and intense work.
One could not have asked for a more interesting and well-executed mixed program as a season opener from Les Grands Ballets Canadiens de Montréal. With something for ballet aficionados of all kinds, from the neo-classical to the modern, and the exceptional live accompaniment, it made for a truly memorable evening of dance.
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