RB ‘Triad’ reviews ‘This House’ reviews Last year of RB reviews

The opening work was a revival of Macmillan’s Triad, which hasn’t been seen at Covent Garden for a number of years. Dowell in his final year as Artistic Director has chosen many works with which he was particularly associated: and MacMillan made a leading role in Triad for him in 1972. The work deals with the impact of a woman on the relationship between two brothers, and is set to Prokofiev’s first violin concerto. I’d expected one of MacMillan’s more moody and intense creations with suitably creepy or erotically charged overtones, and I can imagine how Leanne Benjamin, originally cast as the woman, could have provided these. Injuries and last minute substitutions came up with a cast of Tapper, Persson and Watson.

Jaimie Tapper has been very successful in some leading roles (particularly charming in Les Rendezvous) but although she danced very cleanly here, I wasn’t convinced she was right for this part. She came across as sweet and wholesome, which aren’t characteristics one normally associates with MacMillan heroines. There was little that was alluring or powerful enough to wreak the sort of emotional mayhem that Watson was suffering. Persson managed the technical aspects with ease, and he can swing Tapper round his neck quite happily. However nothing about the character or motivation came across at all: it was a complete blank, totally uninvolving. Lots of steps but no projection of personality. Watson in the role of the hurt and rejected brother was dancing in a different and altogether more interesting ballet: on stage he was just born to suffer. Watching his intensity and commitment gave you an indication of the impact the piece could potentially have. On the night it got a rather quiet response.

The world premiere of Ashley Page’s latest work, This House Will Burn, was the centrepiece of the evening. If you are familiar with Page’s work then there are no particular surprises here: dramatic sets which move or play strange tricks (no, it doesn’t go up in flames - he’s already done that in an earlier piece): ugly grungy costumes for the women, some of whom strip down to bra and pants, lots of aggressive sexuality, furious energy, some very hard working and talented dancers, no narrative as such, and a fairly bleak view of the world. All these are present as usual, and if you liked his last half dozen works for the Royal, then you’ll probably like this one. If not, then it last for forty minutes, and will feel rather longer.

The music is a new commission from Orlando Gough, and has bits of muttered spoken text (not in English) woven into it. The sets as usual look expensive: a curtain intermittently rises and falls to show us a domestic setting with a kitchen (yes, finally the kitchen sink really is on stage), sofa, bed and heaps of discarded furniture. A separate enclosed room at a higher level is used by participants to watch each other dress, undress and get up to various unhealthy games. The atmosphere is of a sleazy but perhaps rather unsuccessful party - no one is having fun and everyone seems to end up in the kitchen at some point. Various couples pair off , attempt to, or almost come to blows. A couple of children (uncredited) wander about, are put to bed by an understandably worried-looking Kobborg. Page has an interesting cast: Galeazzi and Yanowsky make the most of their opportunities. Kobborg has a ferocious energy. Watson is, as ever, the one left out. The work seems to stop rather than conclude. It met with a polite though not particularly enthusiastic response.

After this, we really did need something to lift the spirits. The company obliged with a zestful performance of The Concert. Bussell was originally cast for this before her departure on maternity leave: Wildor took her place. Kobborg (completely unrecognisable from the previous piece) was the enamoured gent: Nicola Tranah the implacable wife. The mistake waltz was as popular as ever with fits of giggling everywhere. It was pleasant to laugh at life’s absurdities after all the angst earlier in the evening, and the company looked like they relished every minute - as did Philip Gammon as the much put upon pianist.