Both of these works have been performed at Sadler’s Wells over the past two years but not previously together, as originally intended. The planned double bill in 2022 was kyboshed by Covid when Germaine Acogny and Malou Airaudo – the two stars of common ground[s] – were unable to perform and the virus reduced the cast of The Rite of Spring from 28 to just 23.
Acogny and Airaudo finally got to showcase their lyrical, autobiographical duet on this stage as part of last April’s Elixir Festival, which challenged perceptions about dance and age. That theme was of special relevance to these two legendary dancers, since Acogny is now 80 and Airaudo celebrated her 76th birthday on the night of that Elixir performance.
At an age when the movement of many people requires artificial hips or mobility aids, Acogny and Airaudo reprised their elegant and intimate duet, inspired by their remarkable long lives in dance. In the 1960s, Airaudo worked with Léonide Massine at the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and, in 1973, she joined Pina Bausch in what became Tanztheater Wuppertal. While Acogny, the founder of modern African dance technique, created the École des Sables in Senegal, which has collaborated with the Pina Bausch Foundation and Sadler’s Wells in staging Bausch’s The Rite of Spring. It transpired that just before her death, in 2009, Bausch had told Alistair Spalding, artistic director of Sadler’s Wells, that she believed Acogny’s École des Sables would be an ideal partner for her work; a prediction that makes this eventual tripartite collaboration even more special.
common ground[s] takes a while to get going as the two protagonists sit, backs to the audience, silhouetted against the orange backdrop, one holding what seemed to be an upright spear. This gentle prologue of a dawn sneaking up on the African bush is silently spectacular and the gradually unravelling imagery is worth the wait.
Airaudo gently drew on Acogny’s naked, muscular back (the shoulder straps of her grey shift dress being tastefully lowered while she faced away from the auditorium) and the intimate and tender duet between these senior citizens of dance was full of such empathetic connections, exploring their cultural and personal associations. Occasionally, these references slipped into the realms of self-indulgence, such as when they sang Que Sera, sera in English and French. When they spoke, poor amplification and/or acoustics meant that much of what they said was inaudible.
The wooden pole that doubled as a spear in the opening sequence also became a fishing implement and an oar, and the venerable pair finished the work back on seats and silhouetted against the sunset but now with two such poles held upright as if warriors-in-arms greeting the night.
There can never be an ordinary performance of Bausch’s coruscating interpretation of Stravinsky’s groundbreaking score for The Rite of Spring. Although Bausch made the work for her own company back in 1975, it still springs from the stage with remarkable freshness. In the past fifty years, Bausch’s work has migrated from Tanztheater Wuppertal to just two other companies (Paris Opera Ballet and English National Ballet) and this fourth iteration of the work has been to a company formed exclusively for the purpose of dancing it. Working with the Foundation dedicated to preserving Bausch’s work, dancers from fourteen African nations were selected to create a purpose-built vehicle just for this production.
In this performance of The Rite of Spring the peat that covers the stage seemed to have been shaped into a thick carpet from which some dirt is occasionally sprayed by the dancers’ feet. The recorded score didn't sufficiently convey the visceral nature of Stravinsky’s music or its integration with the vitality of the dance.
Nonetheless, the performance by these 28 dancers was never less than captivating. The women trembled in shivering fear, running to escape the threat of death, slamming their elbows rhythmically into their own torsos and congregating into a close-knit group for self-protection. The men are also often presented in group formation but with obvious lustful intentions. The women reciprocated by throwing themselves desperately at the men, wrapping their legs around them, their crotches erotically thrust into their faces. It seemed to represent a primeval plea, trading sex for protection. A red shift dress – perhaps a sign of menstruation – is passed amongst them like a ball in a ritual that ended with one of them becoming the chosen one.
The unlucky winner of this peculiar game of pass the parcel was Manuella Hermine Kouassi (from Côte d’Ivoire), the smallest of the dancers who naturally appeared the most vulnerable. When Bausch created the work, she asked her dancers to perform as if they were about to die and – all these years later – Kouassi has obeyed those instructions from beyond the grave, apparently releasing every scintilla of mortal energy before collapsing to the floor as the final note sounded in Stravinsky’s score.
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