Reviews today looks at Swan Lakein the Gaiety Theatre and Climbat the Garter Lane Arts Centre
Swan Lake
Gaiety Theatre
Ballet Ireland can take a curtain call. This is a small, perfectly formed and even translucent production of the romantic classic. The narrative is simply, coherently and stylishly elaborated through clever touches with the choreography, performances and staging.
The two guest soloists for these first few performances gave immaculate lift-off to the production. Rainer Krenstter's Siegfried and Ludmila Konovalova's Odette/Odile were a highly attuned partnership, not just to each other but to the overall company and to artistic director Gunther Falusssy's intent. They led inspiringly as stars ought, with Konovalovas's technique and Krenstter's acting, but the corps, all magical white froth and delicate arms, were seamlessly in their wake. The essentials were also all in place. In Act I, the scene was set with clever touches. The queen's bereavement was underlined by her handmaidens evoking the House of Bernarda Alba while her abstracted son Siegfried, weighed down by impending regal responsibilities, is intrigued by a passing flight of swans. The motif is now introduced and taking his birthday gift of a gilded arrow, sets out to hunt the swans by the lake.
Krensster dances the role with all the transparent naivety of youth, unable to resist the temptation to touch the swan's plumage and then is overcome by Odette's fragile radiance. Konovalova's fine technical ability allows each aching, soaring note of Tchaikovsky to be matched with an arching leg or shuddering arm. Not a feather out of a place, she shimmers, and he is lost. Rothbart the evil sorcerer (Falussy himself ) is in luck; the destruction of the royal family is at hand.
By Act III, we are back at the palace, or perhaps a marquee suggested by the blue and white backdrop, where a party for the expected engagement of the prince is in train. Tragically, as we know, he is duped by the conniving Rothbart into imagining that the brittle daughter Odile might be his love match. Konovalova's role is to convince Siegfried that Odette and she are one and the same. But not the audience. Way too much blingy showmanship which, down to the whiplash fouettes, she performs stunningly.
The sorcerer even has his insiders in the entertainers. In a nice touch, not always included, the Spanish dancers, all sinister in black with menacing haircombs, are revealed as acolytes of evil. And so to the final Act, the last waves of the romantic tragedy, the final heartbreaking duet and the line of fluttering swans. Don't miss it as it tours the country. Until Oct 18, tours Oct 24- 30 and Dec 2-18. SEONA MAC RÉAMOINN
Climb
Garter Lane Arts Centre
In the accompanying programme notes, director Ben Hennessy describes how the latest Red Kettle-devised production came to fruition. Finding symbolic camaraderie between the efforts of mountaineers and theatre makers, the story of George Mallory and the early Everest expeditions caught the company's imagination. Re-enacting Conrad Anker's discovery of Mallory's body gave the troupe their "contemporary line", as Hennessy puts it, and from there the production took shape.
The process clearly satisfied Red Kettle's in-house commitment to stylised physical theatre, but given that this is its second historical epic in recent years, is there more of a contemporary hook needed?
That aside, there is a genuine attempt here to engage on an artistic and literary level with the historical back-story. But the revelations are all too subtle.
When Mallory (a suitably agile Tom Conway) tells us, "We are penetrating secrets", by way of explaining his urges, as an audience we too need to penetrate these urges and desires. That we never fully do, or get to realise the intent of the characters' obsessions, is a lost opportunity.
The scenes between Mallory (who was more Heaney than Hillary) and his sweetheart Ruth (Serena Brabazon) are sickly sweet - all that's missing, you feel, is for paint to be daubed on their noses and a turn at a pottery wheel.
The set was simply framed by two modern climbing walls on wheels, which doubled up as Himalayan peaks. This made sense - committed climbers will tell you Everest has lost its edge - for high enough a premium, glorified Sunday climbers are welcomed into its jagged bosom.
The rapidly changing mountainscape was fuelled by Jamie Beamish's tribal and realistic soundscape, which added depth and texture, when it was pitched at the right volume, and Rory Thompson's superb animation and puppetry.
For the most part the transitions were fluid, with Eoin Lynch (who also co-wrote and directed) and Nicholas Kavanagh turning in solid performances.
Presumably, in a nod to the act of mountain climbing, the narrative arc rose and fell, barely allowing the audience to get acclimatised to one particular vein or storyline. Not quite an artistic peak then, but not far off either.
Runs until Sat Oct 25 BRIAN O'CONNELL
