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\nA ballet evening in two parts.<\/p>\n
\nA ballet evening in two parts.<\/p>\n
Part 1, Ballader<\/i> by Roy Assaf, was an intimate piece: a man and a woman and a pianist. It was as if we were watching a couple in their living room. I found it utterly boring. The straightforward story-telling choreographies that are half theatre, half dance, are not my thing.<\/p>\n
It struck me after seeing this piece that I have similar preferences when it comes to dance and to books: plain realism does not interest me. Novels about quarrelling couples etc, or kids growing up in concrete apartment blocks – why would I want to read about it? Instead, give me something that I haven’t seen yet, cannot have seen yet.<\/p>\n
But the music! I don’t go to concerts to listen to classical music, and I don’t know any of the names, the famous musicians, the conductors. So I had no idea who was playing; the name meant nothing to me. But listening to him play Brahms was wonderful. About half the time I sat with my eyes closed, ignoring the dance and focusing only on the piano music. (Afterwards I found out that it was Roland P\u00f6ntinen, one of Sweden’s foremost pianists.)<\/p>\n
Part 2, Rite of Spring<\/i>, was something completely different. So different that I wondered how this combination was arrived at. Who thought that this combination made sense, and why?<\/p>\n
The music is wild and so was Johan Inger’s choreography. Wild and forceful, at times uncomfortable, dark and brutal. Never a dull moment. Add to this interesting but subtle costume design, and well-designed lighting that ranged from smoky to stark and made great use of shadows, and the sum of it all was a stunning performance.<\/p>\n