Transcendental Goldbergs from Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker and Pavel Kolesnikov

In recent years, we have become accustomed to witnessing marvellous performances by female dancers of a certain age but in this marathon two-hour dance solo (interrupted only by two costume changes) Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker has set a new benchmark in appearing to hold back time. With her long white hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing costumes that revealed most of a body in such a remarkable state of youthfulness that any unknowing observer would surely doubt her date of birth as given in the evening’s programme notes (1960). And let’s also marvel at the stamina needed to perform for the best part of two hours. 

De Keersmaeker was accompanied on stage throughout by Russian pianist Pavel Kolesnikov, now based in London, who played Bach’s Goldberg Variations from memory and – in the opening section – barefoot to match his partner. It was an accomplished performance but one that had the added complication of requiring a continuing interaction with the dancer. At one point, De Keersmaeker playfully pushed Kolesnikov away from the piano and continuing associations between dancer and pianist seemed to exemplify and bring into physical manifestation De Keersmaeker’s career-long exploration of the interrelationship between music and movement. This further foray into how Bach inspires dance continues a theme started with The Six Brandenburg Concertos, which she choreographed on sixteen dancers in 2015.

There is usually a routine seriousness that characterises De Keersmaeker’s demeanour during a performance but here it was punctuated by many moments of surprising lightness, a childish skittishness even and when she smiled the impact was sensational. Spinning, skipping, running, rolling on her back and even limboing under the piano were all playful devices brought to bear appropriately on Bach’s melodious music. Her choreography reflects the mathematical canons in the musical structure and, as if to aid the viewers’ appreciation, De Keersmaeker occasionally held up her fingers to indicate the number of the current variation.

The whole evening had a transcendental, soothing quality, which was brought about by an integration of many creative elements. The minimalist set design by Minna Tikkainen was made impressively striking by the same designer’s varied lighting effects. A crumpled, misshapen mound of foil downstage right took on a pulsating image of some green-gold, molten, alien mineral in the final section and a large rectangle of silver foil ran diagonally above head-height across the left-hand side of the stage. A cylindrical pole rested upstage and was pushed by De Keersmaeker's bare foot to roll to the front where Kolesnikov – having left his piano stool – used his own foot to interrupt its journey into the stalls. This action heralded the end of the first section, bringing a costume-change technical break, after which the pole was rolled back to signify the beginning of the second part.

The lighting picked out shapes in the crumpled silver foil, which would probably vary for each audience member; I saw a face, a pig and a pair of spectacles! This was just one element of deconstruction in the performance that appealed to me. Occasionally, De Keersmaeker disappeared into darkness but she continued to perform (out of sight but in our imagination as the piano continued to be played) and at other times she popped in and out of vision behind the pianist. It provoked more intrigue than irritation.

The costume changes were significant. Kolesnikov changed from a tee-shirt into a more formal outfit for the final section. De Keersmaeker started in a dark, silky, diaphanous dress, the transparency of which varied according to the lighting conditions and this was replaced (after the cylinder roll) by a flared trouser suit which was something that the women of Abba may have worn in their heyday (or perhaps as the holograms of 2022) and then the final change was into a sparkling pair of gold lamé hot-pants and a light orange top that she pulled down to stand still in silence, topless, her back modestly turned to the audience. It must be 20 years since I saw De Keersmaeker perform a similarly long solo work, at The Place to the music of Joan Baez, and apart from the hair colour she does not appear to have changed at all.

To be frank, it was with despair that I discovered this was going to be a two-hour work without an interval and it surprised me that the lengthy technical break at roughly the hour-mark could not have been turned into a proper intermission. I’m sure that the comfort break would have been appreciated by the several people that had to pop out during the final hour. Nonetheless my initial disappointment was misplaced as De Keersmaeker and Kolesnikov proved by the absorbing and charismatic quality of their performances that you can never get too much of a good thing!