London City Ballet has made an exceptional comeback to Sadler’s Wells – there’s plenty of vibrant life-blood in the company yet, having proved its ability to dance the line between tradition and innovation like no other
London City Ballet, former resident company of Sadler’s Wells theatre, makes a triumphant return to their home venue after almost thirty years off the stage. The programme is preceded with a dive into the company’s history, press clippings charting its founding in 1978 by Director Harold King up until its closure in 1996. The introductory reel highlights London City Ballet’s successes and legacies, behind-the-scenes footage of early rehearsals, and the patronage of Princess Diana, a great admirer of dance. While surly pictures of the people’s princess slouched against a ballet bar make for entertaining viewing, the projected montage style does feel somewhat dated. A history in the programme would have sufficed; the dancing that follows is good enough to speak for itself.
Artistic Director Christopher Marney opens the inaugural programme for the company’s relaunch with Larina Waltz, originally created as the finale to a Royal Opera House-based tribute to Tchaichovsky in 1993. This is a chance for the dancers to show off their technical proficiency in the art form’s classic guise, and the glamour and grace of the piece’s four couples makes one’s heart soar. Next, a departure from traditional form in a chamber work premiered at Lisbon’s Nacional de Sao Carlos in 1972, made up of a cast of three male dancers and one female, guest artist and ballet icon Alina Cojocaru CBE. Projected scenes of rolling, verdant mountains and a vintage motor car evoke a European holiday, and a minimalistic, white cube-reminiscent stage design sets the scene for the poker-like social machinations and vyings for Cojocaru’s attention. The movements are sleek, modern and exciting – a dancer lifts and suddenly drops her, catches her in air, to a cascade of falling piano notes; they gently spin her vertically, effortlessly; she hops and artfully stumbles; a lover playfully ducks her leg as it sweeps over him repeatedly, gazing up at her with wry adoration. Deliberate breaks from form allow for glimpses of human vulnerability, but only when they decide to let you see behind the curtain. Such moments are so artfully performed it’s a teasing reminder of how talented these performers are.
The third dance in the first act is the best by far. A male dancer in a side split dress undulates with the intensity of a tidal wave against a sunburnt orange backdrop. The colours of this dance are so heart-stoppingly beautiful, it makes you want to run out and learn colour theory immediately. Artistic director Marney and Wardrobe Manager/ Designer Emily Noble’s vision shines here: pearlescent ocean greens, turquoise and burgundy swathe our newly androgynous cast, who swim and slice through the air. Unexpected moments set the heart racing: couples meet forehead to forehead, lurch over each other in spiky movements at odd angles, and desperately cling to their partners as if an anchor or mast in a surreal sea storm. They perform the impossible, managing to be both urgent and completely relaxed. These dancers express the extent to which we contain multitudes, performing precisely choreographed feats of power and elegance, before sliding across the stage in socks. They punctuate each other’s movements, spell a lilting sentence in the air with their toes, and meet each other again and again with curiosity, harmony, and intimacy. To break the rules like this, you have to know them inside out, to breathe them. They run into a flash of light, jump into air before a sudden black out.
The fourth piece showcases Andrew Murrell’s world-class lighting design, with a couple’s nude clothing transformed to bright peach. The duet is framed by a vast, yawning, soft-edged sun, and a dancer circles her arm as if to mimic its rising and setting cycles. The final dance is a true showstopper, boasting the most effective narrative vigour of the five. In a retelling of the Fall, Eve’s perspective is foregrounded, with a focus on her relationship with the servant. Eve is portrayed ‘not as a symbol of sin, but as a person full of intellectual curiosity’. A projected bird disappears as a lone dancer reaches out to touch it, with a looming, stomach-dropping thud of bass. Leaves spin and lift unnaturally; the serpent, in red bodysuit and green trench coat appears. Ominous, thrilling music from composer Jennie Muskett MBE gets under the skin as Eve sits on his back a moment, strokes his face. She looks apprehensively behind her, but he persuades her to follow him, slinks under her shoulder and lifts her towards temptation. The music shifts, she is furious with him; he clings to her and they become a horrific eight legged creature. An extraordinary choreographic choice sees Eve holding the bitten apple in her mouth for an extended period of the dance, while swirling mists and crawling figures are unleashed from under a screen. The dancers’ bodies become the serpent’s body, contorting as one.
London City Ballet has made an exceptional comeback to Sadler’s Wells – there’s plenty of vibrant life-blood in the company yet, having proved its ability to dance the line between tradition and innovation like no other.