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Frederick Ashton’s Symphonic Variations (1946) is another milestone in the history of British ballet. Much has been written on this work, but it appears that all those memories and analytical studies have been totally overlooked in the current restaging. Symphonic Variations is a mid-20th-century tribute to classicism and classical ideals; its sets and costumes, by Sophie Fedorovitch, hint at a stylised Arcadia. It is a ballet made of delicate shadings, linear solutions and symmetrical contrasts. A splendid programme note by Zoë Anderson stresses the significance of ‘the projection’, of Ashton’s use of arms and lines in the ballet. But, with the exception of Sarah Lamb, the other five dancers, Rupert Pennefather, Lauren Cuthbertson, José Martin, Isabel McMeekan and Yohei Sasaki, projected very little and often looked out of synch. I would like to remind whoever is in charge that Ashton himself believed this ballet could only be restaged if an appropriate cast was available.
It is probably worth adding that an appropriate understanding of the work is also needed these days. Luckily, the bill of fare ended on a high note with a captivating rendition of Kenneth MacMillan’s Song of the Earth (1965), led by an incandescent Edward Watson.
Bitterly disappointed by what could have easily been an exciting programme, I moved, on the same day, from Covent Garden to Sadler’s Wells, where Phoenix Dance Theatre presented the first programme devised by its new artistic director, Javier De Frutos. Excellent skills, infectious stamina and, above all, outstanding artistic consistency are the most distinctive features of the new Phoenix. The programme I saw kicked off with Henri Oguike’s Signal, a superbly fast-paced work that ignited an exciting crescendo of emotions in the audience from the beginning to the end of the evening.
The revival of Jane Dudley’s Harmonica Breakdown (1938) casts some significant light on De Frutos’s artistic policy and beliefs. More than just a long overdue celebration of Dudley, whose pedagogic work shaped British modern dance, the revival provides viewers with an invaluable opportunity to rediscover, or experience anew, an artistically significant stage in the evolution of contemporary dance theatre, while taking full advantage of a captivating solo that still looks astonishingly ‘new’.
De Frutos has a unique way of reading the music to derive intriguing and thought-provoking narratives from any score he deals with. Mozart’s Litaniae de venerabili altaris sacramento, K243, is not something one would normally associate with lust and forbidden desires. Yet in Paseillo the score has prompted an intricate game of illicit passions, which punctuate a fluidly constructed, visually enticing, splendid choreography.
Igor Stravinsky’s Les Noces is certainly more erotically charged than Mozart’s sacred music, but in Los Picadores De Frutos moves miles away from any existing reading of the 1923 ballet, whether orthodox or unorthodox, creating an atmosphere in which violence and lust are combined in a dangerous game which has a stunningly cathartic ending. His movement vocabulary is, as always, vividly individual and highly provocative. Los Picadores might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but there is no doubt that whatever reaction it elicits, it has a powerful impact. I left the theatre feeling exhilarated, provoked and dazzled.
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