Opera Ballet Vlaanderen has never been, in any sense, risk averse and its director Jan Vandenhouwe is clearly following in the footsteps of his predecessors. To open the 2023–24 season he presented a diptych: a world premiere by American choreographer Richard Siegal, New Ballet mécanique; and a revival of Sharon Eyal’s Half Life which they premiered to great acclaim, two years ago. I caught the start of the second week of performances in Ghent.
Siegal has spent much of his career working in Europe, including some years with William Forsythe at Ballett Frankfurt. Forsythe’s influence is in evidence, even in the way Siegal conceives his ideas and pursues his themes. In this case, he has worked closely with the Swiss artist and sound designer, Zimoun. There is no music as such, just movable objects which make different sounds. Costumes by Flora Miranda are quirky and particularly memorable was in the final moments when one of the men returned to the stage in what can only be described as a contemporary version of a tutu, constructed of white, feathery, papery panels. He looked distinctly forlorn.
Lighting from Matthias Singer was effective and Till Hillbrecht has directed and presumably enhanced the sound. But let’s clarify – this is noise, with periods of silence, and its duration is one hour. Siegal has been brave: he created the entire piece with only the sounds of inanimate things such as bouncing balls, boxes and tin barrels to inspire his movement base. That and, of course, his cast of dancers.
The curtain rose 15 minutes prior to the performance starting, to a stage of green balls bouncing up and down from the flies. It’s not clear what the purpose was, but if you’re looking for some downtime, the sound of the balls hitting the stage, was quite soporific. Once the balls flew up, never to return, the dancing began, first with a duet, then followed by some large packing boxes, dropped with force. They fell in between various dancers who transported the boxes from A to B, sometimes in an orderly fashion, sometimes more chaotic. The dancing didn’t stop but in its many incarnations, it was hard to follow and focus. The dancers were energetic and gave their all, but by the time the tin barrels were rolled onto the stage, I was starting to disengage.
There were some eye-catching moments and good performances. David Ledger, Lateef Williams and Morgana Cappellari gave of their best. It looks like a tough number to sustain (although there was harder to come) but the final verdict is that sounds like these do not immediately inspire dance. No rhythm, no really obvious structure and an audience which is left feeling perplexed. As the last remaining dancer sat in solitary thought on a wooden beam that had been rising and lowering rather puzzlingly, the viewer had to decide what they had gleaned from the performance. It went in an unexpected, ambiguous direction. It may well attract new and younger audiences but I, at least, remained baffled, completely in the dark.
Sharon Eyal has a large and devoted set of followers, but her instantly recognisable choreographic voice has also acquired dissenters over the years. Whatever you may feel, there is remarkable cohesion to what she presents on stage and it’s undeniably compelling. She has a signature style and in Half Life, it came to the fore with a powerful vocabulary.
The dancers moved in tiny, almost imperceptible movements. Shoulders twitched, feet trembled, limbs jerked and repetition was rife. The phenomenal Philipe Lens and Yaiza Davilla Gomez started the proceedings, repeating the small steps, like a vinyl stuck on a record player. Eventually, they were joined by a gently bubbling group of other dancers. The imagination ran wild. They appeared to be barely human. This seemed to be a community, a swarm of insects, a herd of animals? Or were we inside a human body, watching the beating heart or another organ, mutate? The dancers were like entities from an alternative world. Yet they appeared connected in a rather surreal, physical and cerebral way by an invisible umbilical chord. They undulated simultaneously. Individually or collectively, they demonstrated something that was truly like looking at a piece of artwork that evolves in front of your eyes, like a lived experience – a very formidable one.
The thudding beat that is Ori Lichtik’s score, drove the dance feverishly. Alon Cohen’s lighting gave the whole thing a ghostly, unnerving effect. Whatever the meaning behind Half Life, it felt substantial and it made the dancers look superhuman. Top marks to them.
This is a contrasting double bill that challenges the senses – but don’t go expecting to leave the theatre humming the tunes.
Deborah's trip was funded by Opera Ballet Vlaanderen
