June 20, 2002
By Lyndsey Winship

Whatever your feelings about company branding and all that goes with it, you can’t deny that the Rambert name is the strongest brand in contemporary dance and is a tasty hook for the punters. 75 years of reputation does the box office takings no harm, but it also results in a company who know exactly what they’re about; strong technique, a varied programme with accessibility and humour guaranteed along with something edgier. Just enough classicism not to scare off the old guard, just enough innovation to keep the avant-garde interested.

The Brighton programme included a Rambert classic, Ghost Dances, first performed in 1981. Set to South American folk music and inspired by indigenous South American rituals, the piece falls into a very traditional structure with a loose narrative, solos, pas de deux and ensemble pieces plus fragments of folk dance. With its painted backdrop and dramatic costumes it does look dated as a piece of contemporary dance, but at the same time, Christopher Bruce’s unabashed representation of real people, places and issues is refreshing.

Bruce’s twin pillar in the world of contemporary choreography, Richard Alston, contributes a work of an altogether opposite nature. Alston revels in the abstract and his opening piece Unrest has the pure, serene profundity of a secular mass. I sometimes think Alston makes things easy for himself by choosing such impactful and beautiful music to accompany his work (in this case, Arvo Pärt’s Fratres for solo violin and piano). But having seen Angelin Preljocaj attempt to match Stravinsky’s massive Rite of Spring, I realise that it can also be a steep challenge. Alston coasts through, as ever.

A more curious proposition is Bruce’s piece Hurricane, set to Bob Dylan’s song about the black American boxer Robin "Hurricane" Carter who was framed for a triple murder charge in the 60s. While Dylan can tell the tale and comment on the shocking nature of the story, interpreting this in dance is a much riskier prospect. Bruce opts for the absurd, with a white-faced mime, a Commedia dell’Arte figure, playing out the parts. It’s definitely brave and oddly poignant, but mocking the comic/tragic divide, Bruce fails to match Dylan’s political punch.

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