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summer 2006

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"The ballet version is solidly based on the text of Williams' play, but John Murrell,
the well-known Canadian playwright,
has injected several sequences that allude to Blanche's past and the experiences that made her. These visual "memory" elements explain much of Blanche's back-story, which, in the play, is told in dialogue.
"

 

 

 

 

Power of Desire
John Alleyne brings his vision of A Streetcar Named Desire to the stage
By Richard Forzley


Creating the architecture for a new full-length ballet requires a Herculean effort from a team of creative adventurers. John Alleyne, Ballet British Columbia's artistic director and choreographer, has never been one to shy away from a challenge, and his new full-length ballet, A Streetcar Named Desire, based on the sensational play by Tennessee Williams, is a testament both to his talent and to the power of dance.

North American audiences are certainly familiar with the tragic tale, whether it's from the 1951 movie version that put Marlon Brando on the superstar map, the often-produced play itself or the hilarious Simpsons spoof with Marge as Blanche DuBois. And now, almost 60 years after its Broadway premiere in 1947, Alleyne is out to capture in dance the story's seedy decadence.

Set in New Orleans, Williams' play is rife with the kinds of major themes that choreographers love. The conflicted and tragic Blanche DuBois, a frail and slightly mad Southern belle, is lost somewhere between fantasy and illusion, seeing things not as they are but as they ought to be. Both she and her pregnant sister, Stella, are the last members of a refined Southern family, and symbolize the Old South. Stella's blue-collar husband, Stanley, represents the new order.

The immediate animosity between Blanche and Stanley sets the tone for the whole story and is exacerbated by Blanche's pretentious arrogance. From the moment Stanley overhears Blanche criticizing him to Stella, he devotes himself fully to her destruction. Throughout the play, Williams demonstrates the full range of cruelty, from Blanche's well-intentioned deceits to Stella's self-deceiving treachery to Stanley's deliberate malice. Stanley represents a romantic ideal of man untouched by civilization, but who possesses a terrifying amorality. His desire is central to who he is, and he has no qualms about driving Blanche to madness or raping her.

Indeed, desire is the central theme of the play. Stella embraces it through her relationship with Stanley. Blanche, however, seeks to deny it. Loneliness is the cruel companion to her desperation for love.

The ballet version is solidly based on the text of Williams' play, but John Murrell, the well-known Canadian playwright, has injected several sequences that allude to Blanche's past and the experiences that made her. These visual "memory" elements explain much of
Blanche's back-story, which, in the play, is told in dialogue.

"It's a play that I know extremely well, since I've had almost a lifelong fascination with Tennessee Williams," Murrell says. "I have worked

with John [Alleyne] on several ballets now, and our process always starts with a long and very thorough discussion about the source text, so that I know what interests him. If I fail to capture what drives the primary artist, it doesn't matter how well-written the scenario is, I have failed."

Sometimes, as in the case of The Faerie Queen, an Alleyne/Murrell collaboration in 2000, the process is easy. There, Alleyne was very specific about the characters and the part of the story he wanted to use.

"In the case of Streetcar, we developed a kind of shorthand based on our working experience together. He can think blue-sky creatively and I take notes. Hopefully, I bring that back to him in the first draft. The other thing I try to do - actually the hardest part - is tell the story just with images, movement in space and instrumental music. Even though there may be a synopsis in the programme, you should be able to understand the story without reading about it first. That's the biggest challenge."

Streetcar's familiarity and its archetypal characters compounded the difficulty of working with this particular play. "We all have various associations with this play, so I had to chip away at the iconic representations of Vivien Leigh, Jessica Tandy, Marlon Brando and the other great actors who have imagined these roles, and free my imagination to get to the basic archetype and what Williams was really after."

Murrell is pleased that he and Alleyne were able to open up parts of the story that, in a spoken play or even a musical version, wouldn't be possible. "For example, in the text there is a powerful relationship between who Blanche has become and who she once was, perhaps one of the most important relationships in the play. We know that she was a very different human being with her young husband than she is as the damaged woman in front of us in New Orleans.

"Both John and I felt there had to be a character named Young Blanche as well as a character called Blanche Dubois, and that would really allow us to explore something unique."

Communicating complex ideas and relationships through dance is clearly not easy. Alleyne, typically, spends months researching the time period, ending up with piles of notes and ideas about the characters. Finally, though, creating a ballet relies on improvisation under pressure.

Throughout the early rehearsals, the mood in the room is intense. The dancers wait anxiously, pawing at the resin box, their arms hanging loosely. The smell of sweat lingers in the air, along with an aura of spirituality, thanks to the dancers' single-minded concentration.

Alleyne begins by dancing out the first steps of the ballet, counting aloud each beat of the phrase. The dancers immediately reproduce his

movements and echo the counts. So it continues, hour after hour, as the choreographer produces sequences for all the dancers in a particular scene. They then begin repeating the sequences until Alleyne is satisfied and ready to begin another section. If a particular movement proves too difficult or awkward for a dancer, the choreographer may restructure the step to fit that dancer's body and style.

By the end of each two-hour rehearsal, some progress will have been made - perhaps two or three minutes of the finished work. In the weeks preceding the premiere of a new ballet, Alleyne and his dancers spend six or seven hours a day, five days a week, in the rehearsal studio.

Creating work that resonates with contemporary audiences is key to the vigour and excitement of Alleyne's choreography. "Stories like Streetcar are relevant to all of us, because they deal with the nature of the common man," he says.

Blanche, he says, is fighting a losing battle. "The reality is that her life, given the times, is already over. Dancing the role of Blanche is extraordinarily difficult because of the character's emotional confusion - it's as much a personal exploration for a dancer as it is an opportunity to stretch creatively."

Tobin Stokes, a British Columbia-based composer, created 95 minutes of music that, like the choreography, reflect different time periods and a variety of moods. Stokes' jazz score gives the musicians an opportunity to improvise in their solos, although the counts necessarily stay the same for the dancers. The overlaid solos may change from performance to performance, adding a fresh layer of exploration for both musicians and
dancers.

"The music reflects the historical context of the story," Stokes says, "but I use modern jazz as a way to expand on a theme. Watching these dancers capture every nuance, phrase and intention of the music was a fantastic experience and a real privilege for me."

For his part, Alleyne hopes that his choreography reflects "the collision of opposites" in Williams' play. "Perhaps classical dance with its huge range

of movement - but refined through a post-modern sensibility - will make Streetcar something contemporary audiences can relate to on a primal level."  <end>

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A Royal Celebration
The Royal Ballet's 75th anniversary season 2005-2006 draws to a close
By: Jeffrey Taylor

They said it would never happen.
Prancing about in tights is
an insult to British manhood,
we were told. No. Stuff like that might
be okay for Continentals, but it will
just never happen here.
Boy, how wrong the
know-it-alls were in 1931.


In spring that year, in apparently arid soil, an exotic seed was planted that literally changed the face of this nation. A struggling, little-known dancer, teacher and choreographer called Ninette de Valois (born Edris Stannus in Baltiboys, Eire, in 1898) took the gamble of a lifetime with a troupe of eight fat-thighed ladies and launched the then-titled Vic-Wells Ballet at Sadler's Wells Theatre, Islington.

Today that company, now known as the Royal Ballet, is internationally acknowledged as a contender for the dance world's supreme crown alongside the Paris Opera, and the Kirov and Bolshoi Ballets. Each of these companies took two to three centuries to reach the heights of excellence the Royal has attained in less than one.

And with some refreshingly frank own trumpet blowing this past autumn, the late Ninette de Valois' company, the Royal Ballet, launched a glittering new season to celebrate the anniversary of its first 75 years. An astonishing achievement in a staggeringly short space of time.

What the doom merchants of 1931 overlooked was this redoubtable woman's steely determination, profound belief in her subject and total refusal to hear the word "no." Under her inspirational leadership that earned her the lifelong title of
"Madam," her little company rapidly took root in north London and abandoned its other home, Waterloo's Old Vic Theatre. De Valois adopted Sadler's Wells' name, spawned a school, moved in 1946 to a new home at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, and added a second company, the Sadler's Wells Opera Ballet. A decade later came a Royal Charter and its present title, the Royal Ballet.

"Madam was a true visionary," remembers former ballerina Dame Beryl Grey who first danced

with the new company at age 14. "She said to me often as she got older, you know, dear, I always knew our company would flourish." De Valois demanded of her fledgling ballerinas the same 110 percent effort she herself contributed. "She was a very powerful woman with ceaseless energy," emphasizes Dame Beryl, who famously slept on the luggage rack every night when touring by train at 15 years old, and was already dancing the full-length Swan Lake, the most demanding female role in the classical ballet opus. Young "Bubbles" Grey, as she was known, earned £4 a week. "Madam gave the classes, supervised the performances, took rehearsals and paid the company individually on a Friday. The press," she adds, "always said, she'll never create a permanent company, the British don't have the temperament." How wrong they were.

It is the British people themselves, according to Monica Mason, the current artistic director, who set the seal on the Royal Ballet's sensational success. "Classical ballet may seem unlikely to take root in the phlegmatic British character," says Mason, an Australian who had been with the company for nearly half a century as dancer, teacher and assistant director before taking full control in 2002. "But, unlike the rest of Europe, the British people - rather than the upper classes - have developed their arts," she says, roundly rejecting ballet's media "elitist" tag. "Look at Shakespeare's popularity." And to hammer home Mason's faith in the grassroots enthusiasm for dance, recent surveys show that between 600,000 and one million of our children, girls and boys (our young males are rapidly discovering an ideal scenario for meeting girls), take
Saturday-morning ballet classes, while 15 million people - a quarter of the U.K. population - connect with professional dance one way or another each year.


Also," adds Mason, "it's the nature of the British to be open to outside influences and make them our own. The way we rose to the challenge of Rudolf Nureyev is a prime example."In 1962, the Royal Ballet was coasting along quite nicely, thank you. Frederick Ashton, founding choreographer, had already made nearly 40 works for the company, including Symphonic Variations and Cinderella, forming the backbone of one of the world's greatest dance repertoires. Ninette de Valois, 62, a year from retirement, viewed her bad-boy choreographer, Kenneth MacMillan, with her usual wry amusement. MacMillan shocked the London purists as he made dance history, scattering among the cosy classical favourites his savage works depicting rape, psychosis and suicide. The company's prima ballerina assoluta, Margot Fonteyn, at 42, was also about to hang up her pointe shoes permanently when, into the rather inward-looking environs of Covent Garden, leapt a marauding Tatar from the foothills of the Ural Mountains called Rudolf Nureyev.

This sexy, young (23) and charismatic virtuoso dancer, a defector from St. Petersburg's Kirov Ballet, was a major earthquake at Covent Garden, a wake-up call in particular to the male dancers about expectations, both artistically and
technically. It was the beginning of the soaring improvement of Royal Ballet men, later personified in world class stars like Anthony Dowell and Jonathan Cope.

 

"My job was to look after Rudi," remembers Michael Brown, a former actor who joined the Royal Ballet as a dresser in 1963 and today is student administrator of English National Ballet School. "I have to say he was the most difficult person I ever looked after.

"He would fly in from an appearance abroad," Brown goes on, "and go straight on stage, but he flack was me and that's when the throwing started." Brown persevered and became head of wardrobe in 1978.

"In New York, I refused to have anything to do with him for three days," he recalls. "He wouldn't let anyone else near him and every time I was called, I just said no. Eventually the company asked me to stand in the wings. We didn't speak, just stared at each other. He called me a flipping English peasant. Naturally, I could have killed him, but I had the deepest respect for him."

The highlight of the new celebratory season is a revival of The Sleeping Beauty designed by Oliver Messel, which reopened the Covent Garden stage after the Second World War in 1946. That performance was attended by the King, the Queen, the two Princesses, the rest of the Royal Family and the entire Cabinet. "It was the pinnacle of Madam's career," remembers Dame Beryl. "It was also a terrible ordeal, as she always turned to absolute jelly when confronted with royalty."

Three years later, Fonteyn in The Sleeping Beauty conquered America and established herself, and the company, on the international stage with her glorious dancing and swashbuckling private life with husband Tito Arias, a member of

Panama's ruling clan.


The final decade of the 20th century brought more momentous changes to the organization. In 1990, former company dancer, Peter Wright crowned his 25 years directorship of Sadler's Wells Royal Ballet, the touring section, with a move to the Midlands and a permanent home in the Birmingham Hippodrome. The brilliant dancer and choreographer David Bintley now leads the renamed Birmingham Royal Ballet. The same year, Bolshoi star Irek Mukhamedov joined the company and set new standards of dance drama, continued today by great actors like Tamara Rojo and Ivan Putrov. In 1998, talks began to move the Royal Ballet Upper School to a site in Covent Garden linked to the Royal Opera House, an objective achieved in 2003, while the house itself was closed from July 1997 to December 1999 for a £214 million refit.

Jeffrey Phillips retired when he turned 65 last November, after a lifetime's career with the company, from junior ballet school through dancing with the touring company to project manager for the massive makeover. "It was the most exciting time in my life," he insists. "As a former dancer, I could say what bits should go where to suit us in the new building," says Phillips, responsible for £19 million of the overall budget.

"The James Street corner on the Piazza has the best access to the stage, so I got the ballet in there. The corps de ballet are the busiest of the lot in an opera house, but always have to run up and down hundreds of stairs, so I got them on the first floor." He also made sure the dressing rooms are as a dancer wants them. "I got lights under mirrors," he explains, "so you could see to do under your chin, I was always being told off for missing that bit, and the showers that are absolutely vital for sweaty dancers. All principal dressing rooms are en suite, the corps rooms have football showers and there's a dancer's own laundry for personal use."

Sprawling across the heart of England with more than 150 dancers in two companies in purpose-built home theatres, two symphony orchestras, two schools and an overall back up staff of hundreds, the Royal Ballet has grown out of all recognition since those well-endowed eight ladies that spring day in Islington 75 years ago. Or has it?

"We must feed dancers with passion and belief back into the company," says Monica

Mason. "The leader must inspire love and commitment and the youngest dancers, with all their hearts, have to know and aspire to the company's values. That's the soul of the Royal Ballet."

"People talk a lot about the company losing its identity," adds Dame Beryl, "but watching them night after night, there is no mistake - it is the Royal Ballet that Ninette would instantly recognize and be proud of."

Dame Ninette de Valois, OM, CH, DBE, died peacefully at her home in West London at 8.45 a.m. on March 8, 2001. She was 102 years old. Her legacy is a priceless contribution to the nation - a truly Great Briton. <end>

This article was first published in the Sunday Express, October 2005. Jeffery Taylor is a former dancer and dance critic of the Sunday Express, London, England.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS: Summer 2006 Issue [top]

Features

  • John Neumeier's Quest
    by Victor Swoboda
  • In Search of Diaghilev: Victor Smirnov-Golovanov
    by Ian Robertson

  • Life After Dance
    by Sarah Murphy-Dyson
  • A National Voice for Dance: the Canadian Dance Assembly
    by Kaija Pepper

Departments

  • Commentaries from Vancouver, the Prairies, Montréal, Toronto, New York, San Francisco, Britain, the Netherlands, Italy, Russia, Denmark and Australia.
  • Reviews of Nuevo Ballet Espanol, Royal Winnipeg Ballet, Alberta Ballet, Pacific Northwest Ballet and Houston Ballet
  • Book Reviews
    by Michael Crabb and Kaija Pepper
  • Notebook
    by Michael Crabb

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