Bold, theatrical and striking. A mix of joyous play and jarring unease.
Pina Bausch’s ‘Nelken’ premiered in 1982 and has since returned to the UK’s stages multiple times, most recently in 2005. Recognised as one of Bauch’s key works, it is aptly described as ‘a vision of beauty and cruelty, tragedy and tenderness’.
Bausch became choreographer of the Wuppertal Ballet in 1973, and soon after which she renamed the company ‘Tanztheater Wuppertal’. ‘Tanztheater’ means ‘dance theatre’, Bausch’s practice incorporated aspects of speech, music, design, movement, and depended on freedom of expression. Her choices were often inspired by lived experiences of both herself and her company, and she would begin her choreography using stimuli based on questions she would ask her performers, many of which concerned love, for example, ‘something about your first love’. Though Bausch suddenly passed away in 2009, her practice is kept alive through Tanztheater Wuppertal today. The company is now headed up by Artistic Director Boris Charmatz, and this new production of Nelken has been led by rehearsal directors Silvia Farias Heredia and Eddie Martinex, in collaboration with Magali Caillet Gajan.
A carpet of 8000 beautiful carnations adorns the Sadlers Wells stage as we take our seats. The air smells clean and floral (thanks to a certain company member armed with two aerosol air fresheners). The opening set alone (designed by Peter Pabst) has an incredible effect, it’s serene, almost ethereal. It’s a piece of art. Dancers dressed in evening attire carefully pick their way through the flowers, gently setting down their chairs and taking their seats as they listen to light classical music. They stay for a brief time before clearing the stage, but not before part of the company descends into the audience and invite some individuals to leave on their arm. Already, we are involved in the show. For some perhaps this is unwelcome, but I (despite not being chosen) found this to be inviting – in Bauch’s own words, her work is ‘a space where we can encounter each other’.
A lone man steps forward and begins to perform Gershwin’s ‘The Man I Love’, reciting the lyrics in sign language. As the tempo picks up speed so do his gestures, eliciting ripples of laughter from the audience. The soundtrack throughout the performance is largely made up of captivating music from the 1930s and 1940s, including songs by Louis Armstrong, Franz Lehar, and other classic names.
The production is peppered with abstract scenes, each exploring different relationships and behaviours. The company return to the stage to play a version of ‘grannies footsteps’. They make a convincing school playground, bickering about who was caught out and skulking back to the start line. As they run to the back wall they make exclamations: ‘I love carnations’, ‘I hate carnations’. It is an endearing reminder of childhood freedom. Later, parent/child relationships are explored, pairs scamper through across the stage, shouting reprimands into a microphone. One of Bauch’s questions she would ask of her performers was ‘When you were a child, how did you imagine love?’ Scenes such as these have such potential to spark various deep emotions in audiences. Perhaps the message was a little obvious in this case, but it was still effective.
Nelken also delves into discomfort. A man is continuously forced to imitate animal after animal, dehumanised and degraded he barks like a dog, screams like a parrot. It is jarring to watch. Men in suits patrol the stage with Alsatians on leashes, watching dancers bunny-hop about the space . One dancer is pulled up, and asked for his passport, before being told: ‘you may continue hopping’. The juxtaposition of the playfulness of the dancers and the oppressiveness of the guards creates a visceral sense of unease.
The costumes (Marion Cito) reflect the themes of the piece. Dancers clad in evening dresses are at times elegant, at others like children playing at dress-up. As the themes darken some of the male dancers change into suits, and they lose some of their essence of freedom.
Dance sequences become hypnotic as they are repeated – dancers move their chairs about, standing up and sitting down in unison and canon. Each individual in the company gives the performance their all. It is a demanding production, emotionally and physically, and a true spectacle to behold. They push themselves to extreme limits, pirouetting, screaming, chasing, jumping with incredible vigour. Nelken is bold, theatrical and striking.
Toward the end we see the iconic ‘Nelken line’, a signature motif of Bauch’s work as the dancers walk in single-file and repeat a sequence of movements to depict the four seasons of the year. We are invited to hug our fellow audience members. To close the show, company members address the audience, sharing their story on why they became a dancer. This is a heart-warming end to a very affecting show.
Nelken runs at Sadler’s Wells until 22nd February . If you are interested in dance this is not a show to miss. If you are usually a play/musical kind of person, I recommend you give this a watch. Mix it up, you could be pleasantly surprised.