Giannandrea Poesio

Sterile reiteration

Ashes, Les Ballets C de la B<br /> <em>Queen Elizabeth Hall</em>

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The creation of postmodern dance works set to new and somewhat provocative arrangements of Baroque music seems to have become a signature feature of Les Ballets C de la B. In Ashes, dance-maker Koen Augustijnen draws upon a set of Handel’s Italian arias and duets to explore issues of mortality, loss, abandonment and lack of achievement. Both the formula and its ingredients are not that different from those of Pitié!, Alain Platel’s powerful reading of Bach’s St Matthew Passion, which I reviewed so enthusiastically a few months back. Apart from the many similarities, Ashes does not come across as theatrically powerful or being as cutting edge as Pitié! (I am sorry if the comparison seems unfair, but it is somehow inevitable). In my view, the problem is mainly a structural one, namely the choreographer’s decision to construct his work around an array of musical excerpts that, in spite of thematic commonalities, fails to provide a cogently consistent background to the dance and its intended narrative.

The outcome is thus a fragmented and often repetitive series of closed musical and choreographic numbers which never achieve a climax or, given the work’s overtly postmodern nature, a theatrically effective anticlimax. The fact that the choreography is also the product of collective efforts, and stems mainly from the exploitation of the performers’ individual skills, adds to the tiresomeness of the work’s stilted structure. None of the performers’ personal input comes across as stunningly innovative and/or thought-provoking, and the majority of their actions are mostly bland stage adaptations of recognisable improvisation exercises derived from modern-day theatre practices and training techniques — also remarked upon, unflatteringly, by some drama-school students the night I went. Despite some attempts at blending those individual skills and creating thematic developments on the same theme, the action mostly remains a sterile reiteration of clever ideas and crafty turns. It’s a pity, for the physical abilities of the dancers are exceptional, as demonstrated in the few non-improvisation-based moments of the 90-minute work.

There are also some good moments of fun, and some in which the dancing creates a visually intriguing counterpoint to the operatic arias and duets. These are sung live by the soprano Irene Carpentier and male alto Steve Dugardin, who, in line with the performance principles already admired in Pitié!, are constantly involved in the action. In the end, Wim Selles’s music, based on Handel, becomes the most captivating and intriguing aspect of the whole evening. I only wish his stimulating and tastily quirky arrangements and orchestrations, impeccably executed by Barbara Erdner, Gwen Cresens, Jurgen De Bruyn, Mattijs Vanderleen and Nina Hitz, had been more fluidly and consistently blended and translated into the dance.

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