Empire Theatre, Eden Court, Inverness, 10 March 2009

Rambert Dance Company- Eternal Light

I FIRST SAW this tour in Edinburgh last October when Mark Baldwin’s new work, Eternal Light, and Siobhan Davies’ revived Carnival of the Animals were sandwiched around another work for the full company, Gingras amusing Anatomica #3. In Inverness, Swansong, a revived work (from 1987) by Christopher Bruce for just three dancers, was the new filling in the sandwich and made for a beautifully balanced programme.

First things first. Eternal Light is set to a specially commissioned choral Requiem by Howard Goodall. Paul Hoskins conducted London Musici, the National Youth Choir of Scotland, and soloists Martene Grimson and Adrian Powter, and the evening would have been worth it for the surpassing beauty of the music alone.

To have that and Rambert as well felt like being deliciously spoiled. Eternal Light opens with a sinuous solo dancer stage right, while the rest of the company lie prone and still, before slowly extending one arm into the air to make an arresting image which melds perfectly with the music and burns itself into the memory.

Thereafter things get a little messy. On a second viewing I am even less convinced about the design, particularly the costumes. The erratic swishing of the extravagant below the knee flares distracts from the dancers’ movements, quite chaotically so when the full company of 21 is on stage. The long silk trains for two female soloists are lovely but look worryingly like trip hazards, imposing an extra burden of train management; dancers work hard enough as it is.

Then there is the toucan, which is gracefully danced and without its Stephen Jones-designed beak might have been perfect, but with it…. oh, dear. Why, for a subject of this serious emotional charge, choose a bird that even the fondest enthusiast admits is essentially comic? The Swarovski-crystalled crosses lowered above the stage during ‘Dies Irae’ were relevant to Flanders fields chiefly because in all respects they went irrevocably over the top.

Enough negativity, though, as there is so much to praise, dance-wise; the solo with beautiful precision, grace and elevation danced to the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light”; the pure beauty of the Lacrymosa segment incorporating a sung version of ‘Do not stand at my grave and weep'; the tight corps work in the reprise of ‘Revelation’, the simply superb Agnus Dei duet, and more. In addition Paul Whittaker’s signed interpretation of the music and lyrics increases understanding by the hearing as well as the hearing-impaired and contributes much to the entire programme, though he has the sensitivity to walk away from “Swansong” which is entire of itself. The lighting is simple and highly effective, incorporating several coups de theatres. Trimmed of visual excess this would be a great work.

Swansong is a complete contrast, displaying all the lovely sharpness and humour of Christopher Bruce’s choreography on an unadorned stage with only three dancers in modern dress. The subject matter of ‘the prisoner of conscience’ is tragically even more relevant today than it was when this work was first created over twenty years ago.

A dancer (Robin Gladwin) in t-shirt and jeans sits on a chair. Two dancers (Miguel Altunaga and Renaud Wiser) in vaguely military khakis enter. The chair doubles as the bars of a cage and an instrument of torture as the dancers athletically, economically create a myriad emotions. Never has a soft shoe shuffle appeared more menacing – by comparison, Jack Nicholson’s Joker doesn’t even make first base – and when silver-topped canes are produced, I found myself wincing in anticipation.

Humour used in masterfully Shakespearean style dispels the tension periodically and allows it to be retightened even further. All three dancers are consistently impressive, Gladwin’s solos particularly so. Although not billed as a tribute to Norman Morrice, the courage and vision of this work flows seamlessly from Rambert’s founding visionary who would undoubtedly have loved it.

Carnival of the Animals was originally choreographed by Siobhan Davies to Saint-Saëns much-loved fantasia on a zoological theme over 25 years ago. Revisited with Rambert, the work comes up as delightfully fresh and funny as ever, laced with wit counterpointed by turns with beauty and poignancy.

Set against a backcloth homage to ‘Le Douanier’ Rousseau, the dancers wear perfect, elegantly stylish cream dinner-jacket costumes by the peerless Antony McDonald. Aiding and accenting their grace and agility, simple touches such as the addition of gloves or the removal of a jacket signalled each transformation and also, practically, gave the company a brief pause for breath in between the invisibly arduous segments.

Whether lions or fishes, creatures of all shapes and sizes are evoked in Davies’ subtle choreography – that woman really knows how to use bodies. Particular joys which stand out in the memory are the Aquarium, the Pianists, and the Swan but it was, like all Rambert work, a company piece. Rambert does not have stars; the company is the star.

© Jennie Macfie, 2009

Links

• Rambert Dance
• Eden Court Theatre