It was a propitious start to the evening in the Susie Sainsbury Theatre at the Royal Academy of Music, the second of just two performances, to find that printed cast sheets were available alongside the souvenir programmes for Here & Now. This provision not only makes it easier for everyone to quickly work out who and what they are watching but significantly reduces the scourge of mobile phone screens lighting up what should be a darkened auditorium.
The acknowledgement of the eight dancers’ names on paper (and other artists too) was certainly well deserved as they had a packed evening ahead of them. So busy in fact, that some dancers missed curtain calls as they were changing costumes for the following piece, facilitating a slick-paced performance.
The McNicol Ballet Collective is celebrating its fifth anniversary. Choreographer and artistic director, Andrew McNicol, chose extracts from three of his existing works for the first half of the evening beginning with Bates Beats, so named after its composer, Mason Bates. In an atmospheric setting from Yaron Abulafia who was responsible for lighting the whole evening, the piece began: four duets. Whether watching duets, the ensuing trio, solos or the brief finale, McNicol’s choreography held the attention without ever feeling too busy or overloaded.
All four ballets in the bill were dressed by Louise Flanagan, and I couldn’t help noticing how comfortable her costumes looked to dance in. I discovered afterwards from the programme notes that she herself is a former dancer: enough said! However, the combination of tutu shape for Bates Beats and some of the choreography put me in mind of William Forsythe’s The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude, albeit with a softer edge. Once that thought was planted, I found it difficult to excise.
In the second piece of the bill, we were presented with two parts from Moonbend. I would be interested to see how these bits of the jigsaw fit with the rest, because in isolation, I couldn’t find a discernible connection save for the disco vibe. The male duet that provided the initial focus was performed with physical conviction by Theo Greenfield and James Stephens to the recorded music of Perfume Genius’ Your Body Changes Everything, yet even with lyrics such as “Can you feel my love?” it was a strangely uncharged affair. Later, they were joined by the rest of the cast and a party atmosphere pervaded: the dancers dressed in a mix of sparkly trousers, see-through tops for the men and hot pants for the women.
Concluding the first half of the evening was Of Silence, an emotional and lyrical pas de deux to a score by Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks, in which the notable Winnie Dias together with Stephens, a wonderful partner and dancer in his own right, seemed to be navigating the voyage of life, with moments of longing, ecstasy, reflection, although ultimately they ended their journey as lone figures, staring out in opposite directions. They were complemented on stage by a pianist and singers from Voces8 Choral Ensemble.
It feels churlish to mention but having just seen a programme of ballets set to music by Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev and Bizet, I can’t pretend it was the most musically memorable evening. In the past McNicol has choreographed to Stravinsky and Mendelssohn amongst others (see the gorgeous Ever After on the McNicol Ballet Collective website). Still, his choice on this occasion to use only living composers elicited a musical response. As the film that opened the second half of the performance demonstrated, he evidently has an excellent rapport and collaborative approach with Jeremy Birchall. Birchall provided an intriguing original score for the final ballet of the evening Liquid Life that seamlessly mixed a live string quartet, with recorded music incorporating sounds from everyday life such as muffled emergency sirens.
Of the dancers in Liquid Life, Hamish Longley stood out particularly for his freedom of arms and upper body, but all were excellent, especially adjusting to the shifting moods. Techno beats in the music caused an outbreak of agitated arm movements as if humans had become machines caught up in a repetitive task. There were moments of effective stillness too as dancers became motionless like statues, unfrozen only by what appeared to be the curiosity of wandering souls.
On this viewing, I’m not sure if McNicol has found a distinctive choreographic voice yet, but his work is certainly pleasing on the eye and crafted with style and fluency. His choreography is clearly based in, yet departs from, classical ballet. It’s heart-warming to find a choreographer who still has faith in these roots. And what an achievement to assemble such well trained and assured dancers, together with live musicians, a chorus and to present a commissioned score. It was a polished and warmly received evening. I look forward to their next venture.
Here & Now continues on tour to Leeds at the Stanley and Audrey Burton Theatre on 12th April.
