The best dance performances linger with you for days after you watch them. In the case of McNicol Ballet Collective’s latest performances at the Royal Opera House as part of the Linbury Theatre’s Next Generation Festival, I was musing on the performance’s title, Devotions - Three Modern Ballets, days before I took my seat. Suggesting aspects of love, spiritual feeling or energy poured towards a community, I’m eager to understand what exactly is a modern ballet in the mind of the intelligent and considered director and choreographer Andrew McNicol.
It was the evening’s opening ballet Bates Beats, a piece that declaratively displays the dancers technical skills, that left me in the position of passive observer, and felt the least modern. Set to energetic music by American composer Mason Bates, the piece appears in an extended iteration since its premiere in 2021. A brawny opening solo for Shevelle Dynott promised intriguing possibilities in its clever use of turning steps, rotating and then inverting back on themselves. Its ingenuity complemented a later group dance for the cast’s men, but something about the cheek-bone gloss of the cast’s stage persona here felt inaccessible. Duets, solos and group dances slickly dissolve in and out of one another, but with the effect of rounding everything out. It feels reductive to suggest the influence of the dance style of choreographer William Forysthe here, but the absorption of these ideas in new ballet choreography is ubiquitous and came out in Bates Beats. The bold lightning design by Andrew Ellis also called to mind the back-catalogue of another American dance maker, Twyla Tharp. For a choreographer as intuitive as McNicol, producing pieces that feel derivative is pleasant, but unfulfilling.
Of Silence reveals a more internal voice. Set to elegiac music by Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks, the piece for six dancers meditates on images of support, both physical and emotional. Body weight is supported in a variety of ways, not simply in the hands of a chivalric male partner. The heart stopping exhale of Kristen McGarrity as she caresses the cheeks of two fellow dancers haloed around her own head is arresting for its stoic beauty. The audience is offered a view of these dancers' changing emotional states in steps of gossamer quality; intimate thoughts revealed in acts of willed intimacy. The diaphanous costumes by Louise Flanagan could suggest roots or veins; instruments of interconnectivity.
A behind-the-scenes documentary bisected the evening’s first two ballets for practical reasons, since most of the evening’s cast appeared in both pieces. Interesting as it was, it felt a little disjointed. This may simply be because I’m not used to this kind of multimedia inclusion in a traditional ballet setting. Why shouldn’t a live performance include these adjunct materials if it brings us closer to understanding the artist’s endeavours? One vital aspect of McNicol’s enterprise is that all the collaborators - dancers and creatives - are drawn together specifically for each project, redefining the traditional view of a ballet company.
The night’s world premiere Moonbend is where my imagination is still wandering. Greig Matthews, with movement of quicksilver fluidity, seems to be a central figure we follow on a journey of longing. He haunts the night, illuminating the lyrics of Perfume Genius’ seven songs that make up this piece’s score. Andrew Ellis’ light installation, a circular ring that angles and glows, economically enhances the stage world we witness. McNicol reveals the ballet vocabulary’s broad potential: steps speak for themselves, or are transfigured by more pedestrian actions. One section of rhythmic group dancing charms with witty musicality only for it to diffuse into late-night raving, which somehow doesn’t cringe-make. It has the spirit of a millennial coming-of-age tale.
There is a depth of tenderness in McNicol’s work I want to see explored. We sensed it in Of Silence, and it unfolds in more provocative ways in Moonbend. A duet for two women - male/male partnering also punctuated the evening - who could be friends or lovers, is notable for its exploration of different pivot points between the two dancers because these women both wear pointe shoes. This ballet is paradoxical because of its sparkling melancholy; it captures something of the feeling of growing up in our contemporary times.
The evening’s three ballets confirm the choreographic range at McNicol’s disposal. The music choices inspire movement, meaning there are idiosyncrasies of style for each distinctive piece we see. We’re watching the work of someone who is percolating with ideas; give this choreographer a larger scale to produce on and I think we will see something that qualifies as truly modern ballet. Enjoyable for its charm, youthful vigour and big heart, these performances point towards future riches.
