And now for something completely different. As most audiences are settling in to enjoy an array of Nutcrackers complete with Snowflakes, troublesome mice and a Sugar Plum Fairy, Opera Ballet Vlaanderen are offering up the ultimate antidote to frothy Christmas traditions with an original double bill featuring two premieres.
Perhaps the uniqueness of the programme should be no shock for a company that has always been progressive. They describe their mission to encapsulate the hybridity of both ballet and opera, and more recently announced their decision to abolish company rankings with all company members simply being referred to as “dancers”.
So here we have two starkly contrasting works in both energy and visual appeal from two emerging choreographers. Ella Rothschild’s Petroesjka offers a stripped back rethinking of the original, well-known parable, while Jeroen Verbruggen gives a vibrant, fresh take on Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s 1933 Die Sieben Todsünden. The pieces share creatives: Eva Veronica Born, Teresa Vergho and David Stokholm provide the staging, costumes and lighting respectively but this is where the similarities end.
There have been many interpretations to Igor Stravinsky’s music which explore what it means to be human, but none where a wooden donkey takes the starring role. In Rothschild’s Petroesjka (Petrushka), we find a desolate, bare landscape of white sand and an aggressive chorus, caught up in their own slow-motion mayhem, Stravinsky’s majestic, almost regal score accompanies them. They wear muted colours, wrestle each other to the ground, their faces contorted, they resemble feral animals rather than humans. A Mortal emerges, reminiscent of the Chosen One in The Rite of Spring.
The Mortal lies lifeless, as the crowd attempt to reanimate him without success until the star of the show, a life sized donkey puppet appears. Each chorus member responsible for a small piece, a limb, the neck, the head and one person has the vital role of controlling the tail, Stravinsky’s strings are briefly soothed. Eventually the Mortal is revived, but at the expense of the donkey, who is later mourned by the group. The slow, methodical movements of the corps are hypnotic, and the smooth puppetry skills make what could be pantomime an engrossing spectacle where the audience begin to develop emotions towards this wooden carcass.
Meanwhile, arguably the main attraction of the evening is Jeroen Verbruggen’s Die Sieben Todsünden (Seven Deadly Sins), a “ballet chanté” where opera and dance feature equally, full of gaudy humour, pacy storytelling and brash colours that engross on a 35-minute journey from beginning to end.
The story features two sisters, Anna I (a singer, Sara Jo Benoot) and Anna II (a dancer, Lara Fransen) sent off to earn money for their family “back home” in Louisiana. All quite straightforward, except that Anna is actually one woman with a split personality seduced by the various big American cities where she encounters the full spectrum of sins. Once again, Eva Veronica Born’s set is a simple affair except for a large telegraph pole with a neon sign attached, denoting the name of each sin in a spiky font.
Anna’s family, who also serve as narrators, are four loathsome characters in comedic fat suits of primary colours and clownish makeup who constantly criticise Anna’s efforts (whilst doing nothing themselves), but there are darkly laugh out loud moments in the way they describe her as “idle” and her preference for sitting on the sofa all day, a thread that continues throughout.
Over the course of the various sins, we see Anna’s two personalities; Anna I is more sensible and understands what she must do to succeed, while Anna II is more easily distracted, impulsive and naturally curious. Kurt Weill’s diverse score opens itself up to an array of dance styles; Foxtrot and rhythms of the Waltz through to the banjo of Louisiana and more sombre contemporary. Fransen dances a sad but acrobatic solo while swinging from the bars of the telegraph pole in “Gluttony”, where she receives a solo contract as a dancer, but is told her weight will be strictly monitored (she longs for schnitzel). She moves with fluidity and easily evokes empathy in a rare moment that allows a catching of breath. Meanwhile, Anna I is colder, more clinical, the one to explain to Anna II of the kind of dancing required at the seedy cabaret where they are trying to earn a living.
The ensemble start life as discreet background artists, creating momentum through Anna’s journey, before becoming glittering cabaret audiences, small town Louisiana dwellers in cowboy hats and fellow hoofers in glitter lamé and gold wigs. It’s camp and fun, but the dark humour is never far away, with Anna at one point laying on her back on top of dancers wearing masks of pig’s heads to suggest her greed. They quite literally carry her through the whirlwind of the American dream.
In the end, the Annas are alone on stage, the frenetic activity is over, they have made their money, and a house has been built for their family. They can now rest, but what was it all for?
Verbruggen takes us from small town US to Los Angeles via the seven sins at warp speed. The neon colours, jazzy cabaret scenes, toxic family relationships and Anna’s battle with herself provide layers to unpick and easily invite repeat viewing. It’s troubling, but the masterful storytelling is hugely entertaining.
Vikki's trip was funded by Opera Ballet Vlaanderen
