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The Linbury may limited in terms of its facilities – not much is possible by way of scenery – but in terms of providing an intimate space where you can get a close look at the dancers it offers great opportunities. I only wish it was used more. British ballet originated on small stages and it would be wonderful to see some of the earlier or more intimate pieces which are not so often in the repertoire in this space (mmm, say, Lilac Garden, The Rake’s Progress, Las Hermanas, Façade….how’s that for starters ?). Cathy Marston’s triple bill includes items which make the most of the intimate surroundings – the claustrophobic couple in the new work Broken Fiction are trapped within a simple domestic setting: they are almost close enough to be in your living room.
Broken Fiction sees Marston returning to an area where she is very much at home, the fraught relationships between the sexes. Johannes Stepanek and Cindy Jourdain (a late replacement for the injured Kristen McNally) worry away at their unsatisfactory relationship, repeating the same moves in an ever faster, more hectic and more despairing sequence.
Johannes Stepanek and Cindy Jourdain in Cathy Marston's Broken Fiction
© John Ross
Stepanek exudes a kind of weary self disgust. Jourdain is more a mystery; despite the rejection, the fractured, violent, repetitive moves, still she returns again and again. Fine performances by the two of them, through some typically tricky partnering. This was set to music by Dave Maric, played live here by the ensemble Between the Notes (onstage). The instruments were an interesting mix (including cello, percussion, piano, electric guitar). Live music in this venue was a real plus, and it was good to see the musicians get such a warm response – it’s a strange, restrained haunting piece of music.
Cathy Marston's Unstrung Tension
© John Ross
Unstrung Tension was first made for the smaller space of the Clore Studio, but this was my first viewing of it. This had a cast of four men (Cervera, Gartside, Matiakis, Watson) and one woman (Gemma Sykes). This is a much more abstract piece, the dancers sent skittering across the stage, which was split into different boxes of light, impelled by the notes of the cello played live by Matthew Barley. It’s only 13 minutes long, but there is a lot packed in there. It’s a well put together package in terms of the lighting, design, music and choreography all working together very well. A good chance to see Edward Watson’s remarkable extensions close up – there’s a flexibility there which is quite spooky.
The final item was Traces, which still remains for my money Marston’s most substantial and fully realised work. This was made three years ago for the Clore. It has survived subsequent changes of cast (including the loss of the much missed Jenny Tattersal) to come up fresh again, the different faces finding something new again in this series of studies of different relationships across time. We begin with a group of lads, all adolescent hormones, suddenly becoming quite inadequate when confronted by actual girls: it’s up to Martin Harvey to begin some hesitant and rather sweet teenage wooing.
Laura Morera and Martin Harvey in Cathy Marston's Traces
© John Ross
We see other snapshots of couples at different stages in their lives – older, wearier, or cooler and more detached. Through all this, there is the constant figure of Edward Watson, haunting the back of the stage, circling the action but never really taking part: the boy who was never picked for games at school, the eternal outsider who never really grew up. Lauren Cuthbertson similarly edges her way around the action, trying in vain to distract her friend from a man. Finally, they come together in a tender duet but there’s to be no happy endings here: Cuthbertson is too wild and damaged to stay. Strong performances from all the cast (Cervera looked very good in everything) with Watson and Cuthbertson a particularly well matched couple.
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