© John Ross 'Chroma' reviews 'Different Drummer' reviews RB 'Rite of Spring' reviews 'Rite of Spring' reviews Rojo in reviews recent RB reviews more Lynette Halewood reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months) Gallery of Photographs

Wayne McGregor’s Chroma made a big impact on its premiere here early last season, and won a National Dance Award for the best new classical choreography last year. It is anything but classical of course in its steps, using instead McGregor’s trademark language of strange dips, curls and twitches, slashing arms and legs and enterprisingly peculiar twists in partnering. The exquisite white-box set by John Pawson looks as handsome as ever, beautifully lit by Lucy Carter.

There’s only one change to the cast from last time, Mara Galeazzi replacing Alina Cojocaru who wisely choose not to risk a previously injured neck through some contorted moves. We now have the opportunity to get to know the work better. A slow section for Sarah Lamb and Federico Bonelli while the stage is bathed in blue light has taken on an intimacy and sense of tenderness that hadn’t emerged so clearly before, and is a welcome oasis of calm amid the more frenetic sections. I always associated McGregor with speed and propulsion, but here he shows us he can do slow and lyrical if he wants to. The entire cast (Watson, Bonelli, McRae, Underwood, Watkins, Ondiviela, Cuthbertson, Rojo, Galeazzi, Lamb) give committed performances, throwing themselves into whatever the choreographer asks of them. You do wonder though why you haven’t seen much more of Eric Underwood cast in other works on the strength of his performance here.
 

Different Drummer is a frustrating puzzle. There are some wonderful moments in this and two tremendous central performances, but the work has its flaws and doesn’t sit happily in this mixed bill. It was made in the 1980s by MacMillan and is a dance version of the Woyzeck story. He is a much put upon and abused soldier whose common law wife Marie is unfaithful with one of his superior officers. The tormented and anguished soldier finally murders her and (possibly) kills himself. It’s dark, grim tale set to Webern and Schoenberg, played out on almost a totally black stage, and it felt strange at the interval to return to the afternoon sunshine – it should have been a dark and stormy night.

Essentially this is one of MacMillan’s character studies the corrosive effects of sexual infatuation on a handful of protagonists, which we really need to see up close and personal, in a much smaller theatre. But to fit the work into the larger opera house context, MacMillan has added a corps of soldiers, and later a bunch of whores who do nothing to move the story along or anything of much interest choreographically. Stripped of these and seen close up, the impact would have been greater. Some things are wilfully opaque and others just don’t work theatrically. Woyzeck’s death, if it is that, is shown by him climbing inside a huge bathtub and shutting the lid. This never convinced in the previous revivals either. It just looks daft.

But at the heart of this work there is a terrific central performance from Edward Watson, adding another damaged and deranged creature to his existing repertoire. Leanne Benjamin excels in the MacMillan slut roles and she flings herself into this one with abandon, winding herself round Watson’s neck as if she was made of fine chiffon. Watson’s partnering seems noticeably stronger this season (after scaling the peaks of Mayerling previously) and the two of them tore through some particularly challenging pas de deux with fearless abandonment. Rather surprisingly, Martin Harvey as the Drum Major didn’t look entirely happy in the role. He looked as if he might have appreciated some more rehearsal time for his solo with the huge mace (not one of MacMillan’s most subtle moments). It needs a much more forceful and threatening presence than he supplied on this occasion.
 

Rite of Spring is a much earlier MacMillan work from 1962, and one we have seen much more of at Covent Garden – this was the 86th performance. This is the most iconic of ballet scores, conducted here by Barry Wordsworth with evident pleasure. It’s such a familiar piece of music now that it’s difficult to grasp just how revolutionary it was at the time of writing.

This is one of MacMillan’s modern expressionistic works, danced in flat shoes, featuring a huge cast of almost fifty. They are dressed in yellow and red leotards patterned with prints of hands like a cave painting. The effect recalls aboriginal art. All faces are painted in white with black patterning. They are an anonymous crowd, but moving with striking unanimity and synchronicity, given the complex demands of the score.

Tamara Rojo is the chosen maiden, to be danced to death to ensure the fertility of the earth for another year. Her final solo doesn’t really look like much else that MacMillan did – all jagged leaps and lunges, splayed hands and contorted puppet positions. You can see a connection here with the McGregor work that opened the bill, so this element of the programming paid off.

Rojo launches into this with ferocious attack – in the quiet moments of the score you can here her gasping for breath. It’s probably heresy to say so, but I think I preferred the designs used by ENB for their recent production of this work to the original ones used by the Royal. All the make up makes it difficult to read faces clearly, and it’s a great loss not to see Tamara Rojo’s eyes as clearly as one would like. The fear and horror there were perceptible but still could have been clearer.

There are frustrations in this programme, but there are some tremendous performances in it. Further casts to come include Putrov as Woyzeck and Galeazzi as the Chosen Maiden: they have quite a bit to live up to, and it will be interesting to see what they make of it.