I will yield to no one in my admiration for Ballet Black, a small company that I have followed closely for most of its 23 years, during which time I would submit that it has presented more new repertoire than any other UK-based company. Some of it has been of award-winning excellence, and most of it has been outstanding but, as we recall many of those past works with fondness, I suspect that the two works on this bill will just as readily be forgotten.
That is not to say that there was not much to admire in both works, which seemed to me to reflect the programme’s generic title by showing that the hero resides in all of us, and heroic actions need not be related to feats of action and adventure but could equally be the achievement of small personal gains and goals.
This was very much in the nature of Sophie Laplane’s If At First, with the identification of heroism represented by the possession of a white crown, passed between the protagonists but also then worn by them all. In one anguished scene a dancer gradually disintegrates his crumbling crown by squeezing chunks out of it. Jessica Cabassa’s minimalist costumes were an attractive element of the work’s imagery and David Plater’s lighting design included the innovation of the dancers themselves holding reflective, circular discs that added a human and interactive dimension to the work’s creativity.
Understandably, over 23 years the BB dancing ensemble has had more regenerations than Doctor Who. In many small companies the loss of star dancers could be a problem but under the continued leadership of Cassa Pancho throughout Ballet Black’s life, new dancers seamlessly slot in while their predecessors just as smoothly move on up to be the headlining performers.
Pancho’s virtuous circle always delivers excellence and in If At First, all nine performers formed a great team. Isabela Coracy – who joined BB in 2013 – is now the company’s only female Senior Artist and it is her solo that begins this work (surrounded by dancers holding those reflective discs), opening with her silent roar, as if a lioness, which seemed an apt metaphor for Coracy’s obvious feminine power and leadership.
Where the work struggles, I fear, is in its regular abrupt transitions both choreographically and musically. It seems as if the audience is being presented with a clutch of brief and very separate ballets, connected only by those crowns; the recorded music ranging from extracts of Beethoven (from the Eroica symphony, which was Laplane’s original inspiration for the piece) to a selection of bespoke compositions by Tom Harrold. Despite the permanent presence of those crowns, it was all too fragmented, and the abrupt switches of mood and music were often grating.