“an uneven and ultimately disappointing piece of work”
The idea behind The Thread is a beautiful one. The programme says; ‘The Thread is essentially the fundamental human values that we all share, no matter our religion, our ethnicity or beliefs. It is a notion that is both personal, timely and relatable, and at the same time universal and timeless. In a few words, the Thread is the energy that connects us to the universe.’
Unfortunately, this beautiful idea is not brought to life in performance. The beginning is promising, as dancers snake in sinuous chains, weaving threads of connection. Then they fragment into smaller groups, navigating a stage lit in geometric blocks. There are lovely, slow moving tableaux of Minoan women, a few sections of faster moving contemporary that never really find their energy and a rather bizarre set piece where dancers wear what appear to be cow bells around their waists. I found myself wanting some wild action to inject some zest into the proceedings.
At one point the music roars and swoops as the male dancers perform the sort of Greek dancing where men have their arms around each other’s shoulders and slap their legs and feet. It was reminiscent of being in a taverna in the Plaka in a thunderstorm, and the waiters deciding to have a knees up. But not as much fun without a view of the Acropolis and a glass of ouzo. It is the type of dancing that can be powerful and gripping when you are close to it, feeling the excitement in a party or a restaurant. But it is hopelessly lost on the large Sadler’s Wells stage. It recurred several times. The end of the piece was when it became interesting and had a bit of oompf. But it was all a bit late by then.
Vangelis’ music is atmospheric and compelling. Michael Hulls’ lighting is simple and effective. Mary Katrantzou’s costumes are evocative of ancient Greek art, or elegantly functional. But Russell Maliphant’s choreography fails to convey the beautiful idea of The Thread. The mixing of traditional Greek dancing, which has grown out of communities as part of celebrations and social cohesion, with contemporary styles doesn’t work well, resulting in an uneven and ultimately disappointing piece of work.
“the wonderful dancers who make up this work, are given so little scope for expression”
The London premiere of Bon Voyage, Bob last night at Sadlers Wells came with a great deal of expectation. Since her sudden death in 2009, Pina Bausch’s extraordinary company, Tanztheater Wuppertal, has continued solely by dint of performing revivals of the enormous body of works Bausch created with it over a period of thirty six years. Until 2015 that is, when the company invited two choreographers in, in order to create new work. Alan Lucien Øyen’s response was Bon Voyage, Bob, which had its world premiere in Wuppertal last year.
Bon Voyage, Bob is best described as an extended meditation on death. It takes place in a dreamscape (stunningly realised by the triple talents of Alex Eales (set); Martin Flack (lighting) and Gunnar Innvaer (sound)) in which the past merges with the present, and vivid fantasies are as concrete as naturalistic memories. Linear narrative is replaced by recurring visual and textual motifs, and a horse dancing on two legs at a formal dinner is as real to the audience as a maternal deathbed scene. The set is almost permanently in revolve, with company members continually entering and exiting through doors; the effect is that of a surrealist painting brought to life. The piece is full of exquisitely realised stage pictures, and the slickness of the choreography is undeniable, particularly when the company work collectively, moving and placing objects to create a mise en scene, but, at three hours, it feels empty and self-indulgent, and considerably less than the sum of its parts.
Bausch’s influence is undeniable, but Øyen’s choreography here feels devoid of heart, so that we are left merely with the trappings of her art, with no living, breathing body underneath. This is almost literally the case, in that the wonderful dancers who make up this work, are given so little scope for expression. Bausch understood the eloquence of the human body in a way that few choreographers ever have, and these dancers are imbued with her philosophy. The points at which they are allowed to move are sublime, and showcase unimaginable skill and poetry, but they are few and far between. It feels counter to the work to single out these dancers by name, as they live and breathe as a collective, but there were some extraordinary moments created by one or two peformers which will linger in the memory, and the final scene, in which the dancers move together and slowly leave the stage in falling snow, had the breath of magic in it. It was unfortunate that it also contained a large dose of relief. The audience struggled with this piece last night, and left in noticeable numbers at the interval and during the second half. The piece was so relentlessly portentous that it was frequently boring, and often unintentionally comic, with moments of intended pathos quickly becoming farcical. Øyen did not feel in control of his material.
Bausch changed the landscape of dance theatre, and it is an extraordinarily difficult job for a new choreographer to continue her legacy, whilst at the same time breathing fresh life into the company and bringing something of themselves to the stage. Øyen, unfortunately, was not up to the task. The work felt lifeless and derivative, and the audience remained untouched.
