Rambert Dance, Empire Theatre, Eden Court, Inverness, 22 February 2011

IT’S USUAL l to close a show with a crowd-pleaser; Rambert opened their Eden Court programme with one as well – Christopher Bruce’s ‘Hush’, set to music by Bobby McFerrin and Yo Yo Ma, a billing which was enough to set expectations pretty high. ‘Hush’ did not disappoint; a playfully tender memory of childhood and family life with a swiftly sketched leitmotif of arms cradling and rocking a baby and some instantly endearing duets and trios.

Scene from Rambert Dance's Hush (photo Anthony Crickmay)

Among many, one beautiful, lightly sketched moment will be hard to forget; the parental pair (Jonathan Goddard and Angela Towler, both impressive in a strong company) stood arm in arm and transformed from newlyweds to pensioners and back in a loose handful of seconds. Bruce’s seemingly light, delicate choreography is so deceptive; those smoothly flowing transitions from naturalistic to puppet-like moves are the result of long, gruelling hours in the studio but oh, the results! Marian Bruce’s simple set and sympathetic costumes were, like the music, spare but soulful.

‘Awakenings’ was the filling in the sandwich, a new commission, uncompromising and stark, like its subject, the patients who were effectively put into a state of suspended animation by the sleeping sickness pandemic following the First World War – except that when music played, they could move to it. Aletta Collins’ choreography captured the strangeness of the world they inhabited, an enforced game of musical statues lasting four decades and more until the advent of Dr Oliver Sacks and his prescription of L-Dopa which allowed them to communicate as well as move.

Not to be able to control one’s body is every dancer’s nightmare; as the work progressed, the company’s understanding of the patients’ tragic plight was shared with the audience. The curtain fell as it had risen, on a tableau of frozen figures, yet this time one was still desperately spinning on, and on… Throughout, design, lights and music assisted unobtrusively, though an extended horn phrase stood out as a moment of pure loveliness.

And finally, the exotic, exhilarating dessert of ‘A Linha Curva’, originally made on a ballet company in Sao Paolo, Brazil by Itzik Galili – and designed by the choreographer. Gallili must have spent hours exploring the potential of modern lighting technology; tightly targeted spotlights created a transparent sweetie-paper grid on the stage and transformed the dancers into anodised aluminium automata in mini-iPod colours.

Meanwhile, what sounded like the full soundtrack to Carnival in Rio was produced, astonishingly, by just four percussionists using voice, face, body and conventional instruments. Against the luscious background riot of colour and sound, the choreography for full company and Rambert School guests was as coolly disciplined and structured as a parade ground drill. The tension created by this contrast was irresistible; the Empire audience’s cheers would have shaken the rafters, had there been any.
Anyone who doubts the value of public subsidy to the arts should have stood at the door of Eden Court to watch hundreds of people of all ages and social groups leave, eagerly discussing the show with glowing smiles and a fresh spring in their step.

© Jennie Macfie, 2011

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