A chapter from Following Sir Fred's Steps - Ashton's Legacy, the published proceedings of the conference on the choreographer Sir Frederick Ashton and his work, held at Roehampton University in 1994, and edited by Stephanie Jordan and Andrée Grau.
The Bourrée: a Myriad of Uses
For Ashton, ballet was ‘an expression of emotions and ideas through dancing’ (1951, p. 33), and he invariably insisted that his aim was to make ballets with little mime or gesture, in which dancing was dominant. Ballet, he maintained, is not a good medium for storytelling, its purpose being to ‘heighten beyond words certain situations and give a kind of poetic evocation’ (Crisp, 1974, p. 172). In other words, he felt ballet to be an excellent vehicle for communicating matters, which have more to do with feelings than with reason.
It may come as a surprise to hear that Ashton was not interested in storytelling, since the majority of his titles indicate otherwise; but if we examine his ballets it is clear that these are indeed expressive works whose raison d’être is the communication of fundamental human emotions. Indeed, his work has many layers, and although he frequently used narratives, they were superficial vehicles through which he could explore both the human condition and dance: the emotions and moods of the characters provided him with the structure, vocabulary and the imagery he needed for the dances.
Scholars have already noted Ashton’s habit of re-using his own material. One example is the particular way he uses the bourrée couru and pas de bourrée to stress different qualities, such as mood, emotion, character or humour. Ashton was not opposed to using simple steps to convey his meanings, and the bourrée, in both its forms, is a step which is central to much of his choreography. Despite this, its place in his choreography has not been fully examined before. By looking at extracts from a selection of his works, I would like to analyse the ways he manipulates the bourrée to depict human emotion. We need to be conscious of the different ways he employs such steps because the sense or purpose of the work frequently derives from the particular movement and its treatment. Ashton had a very individual approach to academic dance. Simply by altering the context of the action, its dynamic, or floor pattern, he was able to change the meaning of the movement.
The bourrée features in his choreography from Facade (1931) to Rhapsody (1980) and, as David Vaughan has already noted, ‘one might suppose that all the possibilities of the pas de bourrée had long been exhausted’ (1977 p 401). But whether he used it as a long floating movement suggestive of other worlds for Lady Mary Lygon in Enigma Variations (1968), or as a stabbing aggressive action to communicate the efficient, bossy yet humorous character of Webster in A Wedding Bouquet (1937), it remains a simple travelling step on pointe.
The ballets selected to illustrate Ashton’s use of the bourrée have been chosen for two reasons. First, they represent the different tasks he assigned to the bourrée; and second, coming from different periods of his career they demonstrate that this was indeed an abiding theme of his work. I have not attempted to provide an extensive survey of Ashton’s use of the bourrée, but rather a discussion of its manipulation to convey four human conditions or traits: mood, character, emotion and humour. Thus I have divided the paper into these four sections, each of which examines a different portrayal of the bourrée. Although chronologically ‘character’ should come first, I have chosen to start with ‘mood’ in order to avoid confusion with ‘emotion’. Consequently, to provide balance, ‘humour’ has been left to the end.
I would also like to clarify my use of the word bourrée. In the text ‘bourrée’ stands for a pas de bourrée couru, the series of rapid travelling movements usually on pointe, and ‘pas de bourrée’ is used to describe the action involving three changes of weight.
Mood
Mood here describes atmosphere, and this section looks at the way Ashton uses the bourrée as a method for changing or creating the atmosphere in a scene, with reference to Symphonic Variations (1946). This was Ashton’s first complete work for the Covent Garden stage. The bourrée occurs on more than one occasion. In the first ninety seconds it is mainly used pragmatically, to move the dancers from one position to another, but when it appears again ten minutes later, its function is different: then it indicates a change of mood and becomes a metaphor for love. It is important to notice the very remote way in which the three females dance the opening ninety seconds, because the mood changes shortly after the entrance of the central male dancer, giving way to a warmer, less frigid tone. The continuous action of the bourrée, in contrast with the initial hesitancy, contributes to the evaporation of the earlier aloofness, something which is reinforced by the introduction of curving arms. But the most significant change of mood occurs when, to use Ashton’s own metaphor, ‘the wound of love’ (Buckle, 1947 p. 23) is inflicted at the end of the female solo: she is caught, in a series of rapid bourrées, mid-movement, by the male. Here, Ashton abruptly introduces a flow of continuous movement, which gradually conveys an impression of perfect harmony. What starts as a joyous solo turns into something more profound, and it is the use of the bourrée in this duet, which effects that change of mood.
Beginning with a gliding run, the movement of the duet sets the tone for this and the following section. After a pause there follows a series of smooth bourrées punctuated by two flowing jetés. The sequence is repeated four more times, creating an aura of ecstasy and peace. Ashton achieves this by using the bourrée to keep the female just on the ground on pointe, and as an unobtrusive preparation for the floor-skimming lifts. Because the dynamic is smooth and the floor pattern circular, we are almost unaware that any dance movement is taking place. Indeed it is the complete simplicity of the movement, which establishes this serene atmosphere, an atmosphere which is echoed after the duet when all three couples move forward in unison. The smooth progression of the bourrée here provides a moment of sublime tranquility. Ashton builds on this motif later by bringing in an extended version of the pas de bourrée, which moves the dancers from one side of the stage to the other in a series of three pas de bourrées. What makes this so impressive is the way it propels the dancers effortlessly across a vast area of the stage generating a sensation of surging ecstasy. Both these sections, the duet and the sextet, begin with astonishingly simple bourrées and end with all six dancers motionless. The atmosphere has developed from intense joy to a mood of complete stillness and peace. And, in the final exuberant section which follows, the bourree’s absence heralds the end of the mystical mood, allowing the protagonists to return to the natural world.
Character
Ashton’s ability to depict personal traits is the subject of this section, in which I examine Webster and Julia from A Wedding Bouquet (1937). This ballet was the result of a collaborative effort by Ashton, Constant Lambert and Lord Berners with decor, costumes and music by Lord Berners, and words taken from works by Gertrude Stein, principally They Must. Be Wedded. To Their Wife (sic). The scene is a conventional wedding. All the customs are observed: a bride in white, overdressed guests, bridesmaids, champagne and a cake. Undermining the occasion is the suggestion that the groom has already seduced many of the guests and is still somewhat attached to one, Julia. Although presented as a comic piece it has an underlying streak of bitterness. Each of the female characters is introduced on stage by a bourrée. It is one of the central motifs, and is used to depict the personalities of the guests as they arrive for the wedding.
The frontcloth rises on Webster standing alone centre stage. From the way she performs the bourrée there is little doubt that this is a formidable, severe and bossy lady. Her opening movements, a series of runs from foot to foot on pointe with elbows and shoulders raised, are really a grossly exaggerated bourrée. Here the overstated movement conveys her rather frightening personality. Later in her dance she executes fast-moving bourrées peppered with relevés in a low attitude. These scuttling bourrées, fractured by the relevés, proclaim her fussy nature and the apparent urgency of her task. She normally moves in diagonals, the quickest way to get across the stage, and she always performs her bourrées with a stabbing quality to emphasise her aggression.
Other characters, Josephine, Violet and Therese, enter with bourrées each interrupted by an idiosyncratic gesture. Josephine, with parasol and huge hat, looks towards the wings in a deep bow. Violet does very fast bourrées interspersed with two sauts de basque; she is chasing Ernest and is obviously quite desperate to marry. Finally, there is Therese who comes on backwards at great speed and is only stopped from exiting by bumping into Violet. Clearly, she is in too much of a hurry to be of use to anyone. In many ways, though, it is Julia’s entrance which provides a brief but compelling example of Ashton’s ability to depict a range of human traits with great economy She bourrées on from the left side of the stage moving swiftly but smoothly before abruptly collapsing from the waist into a deep bend, causing her long hair to flow over her head. The sequence is repeated and followed by rapid bourrées from side to side as she nervously twists a curl between her hands; one is reminded fleetingly of the Betrayed Girl in Ninette de Valois’ The Rake’s Progress (1936). Could it be that Ashton was making a similar connection too? Julia appears to be a distressed but somewhat demented female who for no apparent reason, has been excluded from the wedding. The speed of her bourrée, the dejected gesture, the repetitive floor pattern and, like the Betrayed Girl, her en face épaulement, all combine to suggest this distressed, if somewhat imprudent damsel.
Human Emotions
In many ways this section overlaps with the previous. But only by separating the two can degrees of feeling be analysed. I shall look here at two duets from A Month in the Country, the first for Vera and Beliaev, the second for Natalia and Beliaev.
What is striking when comparing these duets is the similar way in which Ashton uses the bourrée, and yet manages to convey two very different kinds of emotion. The second duet displays a deep sensuality, while the first tends more to affection and warmth, although it is fair to say that Vera also communicates an overwhelming infatuation for Beliaev.
A slow lift opens the first duet, followed almost immediately with Vera moving away from Beliaev in a quick, short elated bourrée. Developing from the opening lift, the bourrée starts in the air and continues as she reaches the floor, generating the impression that she is still floating on the air. This sort of bourrée sets the tone for the duet: its staccato speed, its performance at arm’s length, its air of playfulness and its elated quality is continued throughout. Later in the piece she bourrées rapidly around him again but he holds her as though she were a skipping rope or some other toy; the bourrée here conveys her fervour, but his more distant grip suggests merely amusement. Later the couple move together in a diagonal- she performs a swift bourrée while he walks alongside, a moment which is duplicated in Natalia’s duet. But, as we shall see later, everything about it is different from Natalia’s; the speed, the extension of her arm, the swaying motion Beliaev creates as they move along, and the finish of the sequence in a supported grand jeté. For Vera the moment is ecstatic but for Beliaev it is just an affectionate frolic emphasised by the speed of the lift and the swaying bourrées. When the duet ends in a series of evenly executed rapidly turning bourrées, it has elements of bliss, but the way Beliaev responds - frequently at a distance and only partially moving in unison with her - confirms that he is merely observing, standing outside the relationship. Clearly Ashton has used the rapid execution of bourrées as a way of portraying Vera’s ardour, but by distancing Beliaev physically, he generates the impression of brotherly love.
Natalia’s duet too is dominated by the bourrée, which becomes an important metaphor communicating the sensuality of the piece. Initially it occurs after a long low sustained arabesque - reversing the opening of the duet in Symphonic Variations, where the female is lifted into a low jeté; here Natalia bourrées back before sinking into a splits-like position. Whereas the airborne jetés of Symphonic evoke serenity and peace, the sinking reversal of this sequence conveys sensuality and passion; above all, it communicates the harmony that exists between the two.
Elsewhere the floor pattern of constantly changing pas de bourrée diagonals from her earlier solo is repeated, but now replaced by the bourrée and a more tranquil dynamic. Together they move diagonally downstage, Natalia bourrées, while Beliaev walks, just stopping for a moment to lift her off the ground. These bourrées have a tender quality that is absent from Vera’s duet, their sensuality portrayed by the closeness of the couple, by the gentle lift and by the use of repetition. It could even be argued that the relaxed recurrence of the floor pattern from her first solo indicates a new-found depth and passion. Concluding the duet is a succession of bourrées which move from side to side: Natalia is held under the arms by Beliaev and moves in gradually diminishing lines. Interspersed with several slow back-to-back turns, they end almost on the spot, with arms dissolving into a shimmer. The pattern is similar to Julia’s in A Wedding Bouquet, but the quality, effected by the extended arms and the position of the upper back, is altogether different. Strangely apart from sensuality, it has also more of a broken, ruined feel to it than that of Wedding Bouquet. The bourrée’s multiple possibilities evidently held much fascination for Ashton.
Humour
The portrayal of humour is one of the most difficult things to render successfully in any genre, but surprisingly the bourrée serves Ashton very effectively for this purpose. Both Les Deux pigeons (1961) and The Tales of Beatrix Potter (1970) show, as so many of his works do, that Ashton had a deep sense of fun.
Les Deux pigeons may not be one of Ashton’s greatest works, but it is certainly one of his most enjoyable to dance, and this might be because of all the fun he put into it. The bourrée appears early on in the first act, but it is only when the Young Girl tries to save her lover from the arms of the Gypsy Girl that the bourrée becomes an agent for humour. As Macaulay observes, she works ‘herself up into a tizzy of (hilarious) indignation (1987, p. 2), and it is because of the way the bourrée has been choreographed that it is so funny.
Her solo, which is directed at the Gypsy Girl, begins with an arabesque step followed by a pirouette into a very quick pas de bourrée and rond de jambe. What makes it comical is the speed at which the movement is performed, causing the Young Girl to look ridiculous. Following this is a jerky sequence of travelling pas de bourrée in which the main thrust is downwards, each pas de bourrée ending in a low arabesque on a plié. Her arms flap in unison with the legs, and she appears to have lost control, both of her body and the situation, something that becomes more apparent as she continues these pas de bourrée round in a circle. The solo finishes in a succession of pas de bourrée so quick they never come off pointe. Clearly she is out of her depth and this is evident both from the ever-increasing speed of the pas de bourrée and the effort it takes to perform them. To slow down this section of music would thus greatly impair the meaning. The Young Girl would simply look elegant and her indignant frustration, so carefully written into the dance, would evaporate. The clumsiness of the Young Girl is accentuated by the pas de bourrée of the Gypsy Girl, who dances them with an earthy sensuality missing from her rival. Essentially then, the meaning, the characters and the humour are embedded in the choreography.
Comedy is intrinsic to The Tales of Beatrix Potter, but in the duet between Pigling Bland and Black Berkshire Pig, Ashton treats it differently In many ways the idea of two pigs on pointe performing a pas de deux is so absurd that anything else is unnecessary; but Ashton uses it to parody his own work, and Petipa’s. Pigling Bland enters backwards on pointe in a fast-moving bourrée, but it is only when he waddles to the stool at the end of the solo that his bourrée become comical. Instead of an academic bourrée, his feet move to an ungainly parallel second position and for the rest of the episode his bourrées remain in this position. Ashton’s teasing reference to the classics begins when Black Berkshire Pig enters with the développés from the Sugar Plum Fairy’s variation. We recognise the moment, and it puts classical ballet, and thus comedy, at the heart of the scene. Elsewhere, the Pigs bourrée together using a similar arm movement to that used by the Ondines in Act I Scene 2 of Ondine. But it is towards the end of the duet that Ashton’s wit is most evident. Here the couple bourrée together backwards, the music swells as they turn round and round, Black Berkshire Pig is carried forward in a supported grand jeté only to drop onto the ground as Aurora does. By placing the bourrée in this distinguished company and by choreographing it with all the smooth flowing quality of the academic dance, Ashton, using his favourite step, displays his sense of the ridiculous.
The bourrée is only one example of the way Ashton ‘changed steps’ (Macaulay, 1984, p. 3) to suit his work. Clearly it is important in Ashton’s canon, but what is central to the choreography is the specific way he uses it. He does not simply take academic dance and transfer it to his dances; instead, he uses it to create emotional content. So when Ashton claims that the subject matter of his ballets is dance, always dance, he is in a sense right. What he means is that dance is at the heart of his choreography and everything else - character, mood, humour, emotions - develops from it. Consequently, it is the way Ashton uses the movement, its speed, gesture, épaulement and context that conveys the meaning of the work or character. Undoubtedly the responsibility for interpreting the work lies with the performer, but if the movement is understood in purely formal or classroom terms its capacity to convey human behaviour and feeling will disappear. Alternatively, should the performer interpret the work through the character alone, ignoring the carefully crafted choreography, the significance of the work may be lost. The steps will still be there, but, as T. S. Eliot aptly warns in The Dry Salvages (1941, 1969) we will have ‘had the experience but missed the meaning.’
References
Ashton, F. (1951),’Notes on Choreography’, in W. Sorell (ed.), The Dance Has Many Faces, 3rd edn 1992, Chicago, A Cappella, pp. 31-3.
Buckle, R. (1947), ‘Abstract Ballet’, Ballet, Vol. 5 No. 5, pp. 20-4.
Crisp, C. (1974), ‘A Conversation’, in S.J. Cohen (ed.), Dance as a Theatre Art,
Eliot, T. S. (1969) The Complete Poems and Plays of T. S. Eliot, London, Faber and Faber, 186
Macaulay, A. (1984),’Ashton at Eighty’, Dance Theatre Journal Vol. 2 No. 3, pp. 2-7.
Macaulay, A. (1987), Some Views and Reviews of Ashton’s Choreography, Guildford, National Resource Centre for Dance.
Vaughan, D. (1977), Frederick Ashton and His Ballets, London, A & C Black.