Sadler’s Wells theatre reopens after its longest break from performance since the second world war, at only 30% capacity but 100% enthusiasm from the well-spaced audience. The moment is also notable for being the first live show programmed by Birmingham Royal Ballet’s new artistic director, Carlos Acosta, whose first 10 months in the job have been nothing like he imagined, but, he tells us, his company is striving to bring us dreams and hope on stage.
There’s a definite dreaminess to the triple bill’s opener, Our Waltzes, by Venezuelan choreographer Vicente Nabrada. Everything flows: skirts, arms, phrases and couplings from one into another, in a swirl of sweet romance.
Brandon Lawrence captivates in a solo, Liebestod, by Russian choreographer Valery Panov. Curled foetally in the centre of the stage, his body unfurls as if it is only just discovering itself, a leg extending into the air with wonder before his torso melts backwards. There’s something reminiscent of Nijinsky’s Faun, or Balanchine’s Apollo; an otherness, an innocence turning into self-mastery. Peter Teigen’s lighting puts soft-focus edges on precision poses, and the music is Wagner’s famous finale from Tristan und Isolde, crescendo and catharsis, beautifully doomed and unashamedly button-pushing, revelling in the senses.
Will Tuckett’s Lazuli Sky is the programme’s big premiere, set to John Adams’ Shaker Loops, and inspired by the intensely blue lapis lazuli stone and the wide-open skies of nature, rediscovered in lockdown. It comes with video design and projections of the natural world that create a fully realised mood on stage, wind rippling through leaves as the movement ripples across the stage.
Players from the Royal Ballet Sinfonia tremolo away in the pit and beneath the shimmering exterior of the music, it’s a fiendishly difficult score to dance to. Tuckett uses musical forms in the choreography, canon and counterpoint, his dancers follow melodies and regroup as the music morphs. He shifts speed and texture but also makes the most of the power of the group, 12 dancers in unison, united in purpose, rhythm and poised geometries. In a striking scene, the dancers wear long skirts like giant fans, which turn into sails and flowers and clam shells, the sculptural effect in contrast to the swift constant motion of bodies glancing off the stage like light glinting off the many facets of a cut gem.
There may be only three pieces here, programmed in haste, but they do tell us something about Acosta’s vision for the company. That he’s committed to showing choreographers and works rarely seen in the UK; that he’ll bring us beauty, musicality, pleasure and dance that’s easy on the eye, but not dumbed down. He cares about the dancer’s craft and technique and he’s not afraid of plainly marvelling at the physical and expressive possibilities of the body. Classicism underlies all three pieces – Acosta isn’t looking to radically deconstruct the art form, but he will push these dancers, and he’s always seeking the new. Even in a pandemic, he managed to commission a brand new work.
The dancers are strong, though there’s a hesitancy to go all out, it feels. The lengthy break from the stage and the concentration demanded of a rhythmically complex new piece might explain why, but they’re on the polite side. If Acosta can infuse his dancers with a little of his legendary charisma, then they’ll really be flying.
• At Sadler’s Wells, London, until 31 October. Available to stream from 1 November at brb.org.uk
