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Thursday, 15 March 2012

Spring Passions: 'Daphnis and Chloë' / 'The Two Pigeons'

Having been to the Royal Opera House many times to see the Royal Ballet perform, I was yet to experience a production by their sister company the Birmingham Royal Ballet, and so I jumped at the chance when I saw they were going to be at the London Coliseum for a brief period. Having never seen either of these ballets before, this was all going to be very new to me. For any Frederick Ashton fans this was the perfect afternoon out.

The double bill started with Daphnis and Chloë. The scene set is quite simple, as are the dancers costumes –the men in shirts and trousers, the women in simple, brightly coloured dresses. Daphnis and Chloë are lovers, but, alas, she is captured by a pirate, leaving Daphnis distraught. (The story is based on an ancient tale and is therefore somewhat fantastical). The highlight for me in the first scene was the nymphs that appear to Daphnis in a vision after Chloë has been captured. The lighting is low, an eerie blue light shines on the cave in the corner. Out of it glide three nymphs. Here the combination of costume and dance is mixed wonderfully. The dancers are covered in green, with a simple white dress (which is more like some material hanging down their front, tied, and then down their back, turning into a more substantial piece of clothing for the skirt which is attached to their wrists). Their movements and the corresponding floating movements of the dresses create really quite a haunting image.

A screen comes down with a picture of Pan (a mythical creature) on, and we wait. There is no music, nor any dancers on stage, only the scraping of scenery can be heard. I understand that for a short ballet with no interval it is difficult to have quite large scene changes without some disruption, but I’ve never been to a ballet where there is quite this delay. Eventually there is some eerie singing in the background, and finally the screen is lifted revealing a somewhat hellish set design. The happy choreography of the first scene is gone, replaced by much more sinister, stronger actions. It’s almost quite uncomfortable watching poor Chloë, her hands tied, unable to escape, the pirates with obvious sinister intentions. At the end of the scene Pan appears to rescue her, and the pirates go into a panic, dancing in what appears to be uncontrolled and spontaneous, but was no doubt choreographed carefully, and danced with great precision.

The final scene opens on a Greek island set. The dancers reappear with colourful outfits and scarves, and take part in a celebrationary dance. The colours and choreography make this quite a feast for the eye, moving away from traditional ballet into something that resembles a group dance you could imagine occurring at a wedding or some other celebration years ago.

This wasn’t my favourite ballet but it certainly had some high points, and a variety of different dance styles, and set designs. Technically well danced, and quite different to what you might expect from a ballet, I’m glad it’s part of the BRB’s repertory.

The Two Pigeons was rare in that it made the audience laugh. The set opens on a couple in a Parisian apartment (judging from the costumes I imagine it is set some time in the nineteenth century. The man is trying to paint his lover, but she is restless and playful, acting the part wonderfully. Two pigeons fly across the stage at the back, and the characters, intrigued, incorporate bird-like movements into their dance, something I imagine to be quite a challenge, to still be dancing with grace, and technical accuracy whilst bringing in these very different movements. By the end of the scene the young man had been seduced by a gypsy woman. Her dark costume, and provocative dancing contrasting with the pale costume of the young girl, and her innocent, playful movements. The two women have something of a dance-off vying for the attention of the young man.

The next scene is set in a gypsy encampment. The gypsy girl continues to taunt the young man with her obvious sexuality, and yet she has a lover that she has no intention of giving up. The young man is beaten up by the other gypsies, and eventually kicked out. This ballet is quite rare in that it is far more about the male protagonist than it is about the woman, and the male lead gets good opportunity to show of his considerable skill.

The pigeon returns to the stage, the young man takes it back to his lover, who is lying on the floor, distraught at having been left by him. A moving pas de deux follows (I admit I was distracted by the pigeon to begin with, but the dancing drew me back). The lovers are reunited, and finally, the second pigeon returns, mirroring the reunited couple.

An utterly fantastic ballet, edgy, but with a fair amount of soft romantic dancing (think black swan vs. white swan). Genuinely humourous in parts, a wonderful tribute to Ashton, why isn’t this piece performed more regularly?!

Sunday, 11 March 2012

'Magnificent Obsession: Victoria, Albert, and the Death that Changed the Monarchy' by Helen Rappaport

I first heard about this book whilst reading BBC History Magazine sometime before Christmas. There was a fascinating article about Victoria and Albert, and it put me on to the scent of this book. The Victorian period is one of my favourites when studying history, though I admit I actually know very little about Queen Victoria herself, beyond the basics I was taught in primary school. Always having imagined she must have been a fantastic monarch, reigning for so very long, and being on the throne during such an important period, and yet this book made me feel that perhaps I had got it wrong (and also that I should actually find out a bit more about her!).

From page one this seemed liked my kind of history book. Fascinating, informative, yet exceptionally easy to read, it sometimes felt more like reading a novel than a history book. It opens with Christmas, 1860, setting the scene with a happy family gathering, making sure that right from the off the reader is aware of how important family was to the royal couple, and thus give us a better appreciation of quite how devastating Albert’s death would have been for Victoria.

I did find it somewhat unsettling, however, when it is described how Albert tried to change Victoria, and manipulate her into the type of monarch he wanted her to become. It’s difficult to reconcile behaviour such as this with a loving marriage, but then I suppose it’s important to separate the professional from the personal side of this relationship. The book makes it perfectly clear that Victoria absolutely doted upon Albert, and relied on him wholeheartedly, seeking his advice on every aspect of her life. It is claimed later in the book that she would happily have given her throne over to him had he survived. However, there are also passages describing what seems like unconcern for Albert’s welfare on Victoria’s part, always insisting on keeping the palaces at low temperatures, with windows flung open in the middle of winter, despite Albert suffering from such decisions. There seems to be something of a mix of self-interest which sometimes meant Victoria did not fully consider Albert’s feelings in his lifetime, but at the same time it is perfectly clear how much she loved him, and that her complete devastation at his death was not merely an appreciation of him once he was gone.

The way in which his death is described is moving, and makes you think of Victoria as a real human, rather than separating her from us as a monarch, whose life is so different we can barely relate. Here she loses the love of her life, her main support system (we are reminded throughout that she gains no great comfort from her children), and also her advisor in all matters, both political and personal. And thus the mourning begins.

Previous to Albert’s death it had been apparent that Victoria took part in the mourning rituals of the day to the very extreme. The loss of her mother hit her hard, but she also insisted on full mourning for members of the court, and more distant relatives whereby somewhat less extravagant mourning would be expected. I found it utterly fascinating to learn more about how death was perceived in the nineteenth century, so very different to today. I can’t imagine walking into my local Debenham’s and asking for their mourning section!

She completely secluded herself from public life for many years after his death, causing public unrest, and rumours of abdication. Rappaport comments on how different this was to her behaviour earlier on in her reign (only allowing a three day honeymoon with Albert because she had so much business to attend to). Having watched recent TV programmes about Queen Elizabeth in the lead up to her jubilee, I can see similarities and contrasts between the two. When Princess Diana sadly died the Queen was criticised for spending a few days at Balmoral away from the public. Queen Victoria also found Balmoral to be her place of safety, but left it far more than a few days. It must be a difficult task to juggle such personal grief, and the public duty that comes with being a monarch, and this is perhaps something our current Queen is more apt at. In saying that, on the recent Andrew Marr programme, many of the Queen’s relatives commented that she wouldn’t have been able to do it without her husband by her side, and this is exactly what Queen Victoria had to do for many years. A position she didn’t feel all that comfortable in, and a heavy burden to bear on her own. She had never had to make decisions on her own, having a somewhat over-bearing mother, and then straight into complete reliance on Albert. It must have been a hugely challenging personal task, and all the while suffering in her grief at having lost the love of her life.

Although Albert had specifically requested that she did not construct monuments and statues to him, they proliferated throughout her lifetime. Perhaps a sign that her grief was somewhat self-indulgent, but also forced the public to appreciate the man that had been so very under-appreciated during his lifetime. How very different South Kensington would look today without Queen Victoria’s obsession with commemorating her husband.

All in all a brilliant book; easy to read, informative, moving even. I did wonder at points how it would continue to progress, Albert had died, Victoria had been mourning, what now I wondered, but it manages to retain interest throughout, and I certainly feel I learnt a lot.