It’s a bit like stepping into the famous MC Escher staircase drawing, or its 1980s homage in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, watching Benjamin Millepied’s Romeo and Juliet Suite by L. A. Dance Project. Escher was a master of illusion and a pioneer of psychedelic art – not to mention a fierce defender of his copyright, once complaining bitterly to a friend, ‘The hippies of San Francisco continue to print my work illegally’. Continue! Minus the justifiable copyright outrage, Millepied’s retelling of Romeo and Juliet likewise rips the rug of reality from under the viewer’s feet, somersaults orientation through the proverbial washing machine, and takes a wrecking ball to the fourth wall, as it blurs the lines between dance, cinema and theatre.
For those who don’t know, Millepied is a former principal dancer at New York City Ballet and his raison d’etre is making classical ballet accessible. Such is the purpose of his dance company, LADP.
Inspired by Sergei Prokofiev’s lush score, the performance opens benignly enough, but is almost immediately shattered by a camera man walking directly across the middle of the space, into the circle of dancers, holding a Steadicam. The images from the camera are projected directly onto a huge cinema screen that covers the entire back wall of the stage. Except, the stage is the entire Opera House and surrounds: “love knows no bounds…not even a physical set.” From then on, the production is a feast of perspectives, at times giving the audience choice overload in terms of what and who to look at, and where, as it dissolves the boundaries of a traditional performance space.
Through the live cinema feed, the atmosphere is part-Alfred Hitchcock, part-Black Swan, with fast arc shots, endless halls of mirrors, and birds-eye perspectives that make the dancers look like a migrating avian flock. In terms of the narrative, this is a stripped back version of the Shakespeare classic, with only the key characters identifiable. Notably, a very angry Tybalt, who clearly hates love, with facial expressions, a general demeanour, and a level of fixation on our lead couple that suggests a lot of time spent on incel forums; and a Romeo, undeterred by ancient quarrels, ardently pursuing his object of desire.
Millepied’s Romeo and Juliet Suite is like Heraclitus’ theory of flux: it’s never the same river and it’s never the same man. Quite literally – the word Suite is added as each performance has a different lead combination of woman-woman, man-man, or woman-man. The opening night had David Adrian Freeland Jr. as Romeo, and Mario Gonzalez as Juliet. Millepied denies that the inclusion of same sex couples is intended by him as a political statement: “Why must it be above all a man and a woman? It was important for me to present this production with different people.” Maybe so, but in a world where gay marriage was only made legal in Australia just over five years ago, it’s inherently a political act to flip the default heteronormative script on stage.
As well as diversifying the performers, Millepied changes the river for every performance by using the surrounding environment as part of the stage. And, at the Sydney Opera House, what an environment! Millepied professes a special connection to Australia, having lived here for a year during the pandemic. He describes the Sydney Opera House as majestic, and he’s not wrong. Opening performance was on a crisp, clear winter night in Sydney. My mind is forever seared with the stunning image of Romeo and Juliet running off the stage, out and down the stairs, to duet against the Opera House sails and Sydney skyline lit with vivid glow. In keeping with the outdoor theme, the scene was made only more memorable by an unplanned cameo from the most classic of Australian fauna icons: a seagull, as persistent as it was unfussed (what is it with Millepied and water birds?). Since I’ve mentioned it, while the seagull’s movement vocabulary was limited to some rudimentary shuffling and bobbing, perhaps this was an impromptu yet deliberate choreographic choice, to contrast with the expansive lines of our star-crossed lovers.
If you’re looking for crisp, precise, technical ballet, this production is not for you. There’s not a pointe shoe or a tutu in sight, though the choreography is derived from classical technique, with a hefty dose of the character dance subdivision of ballet, presumably given the Shakespearean folk dance unfolding in the banquet halls of Verona in 1597. The lead dancers are strong, while the corps brings dynamism and commitment.
Romeo and Juliet Suite is unlike anything I have seen. It’s geometric sorcery, and a remarkable fusion of dance and cinematography: accessible, challenging and entertaining.
