Our Infant Wings
24 June 2006
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Danseurs chorégraphes, Edition 2006
Opéra Bastille / Studio Theatre (June 23rd 2006)
Times are hard - 16 euros are very hard to come by these days, very hard earned. Certainly too much to shell out, to watch a cluster of adult children doing party sketches.
Presented every three years at the small theatre in the Bastille that more or less corresponds to the Linbury, the purpose behind Danseurs chorégraphes (all the contributors belong to the POB corps de ballet) is to allow the fledglings amongst us to spread our infant wings. In theory, a laudable initiative.
Apologie du couple, le matin au réveil, by Martin Chaix, aged 26.
Don’t ask. Music: Two wooden sticks rubbed together by Ligeti.
Dance: Two wooden sticks rubbed together, in their undies.
The undies then undulate in post-modern vocabulary to Ave Verum Corpus by Mozart.
Without wishing to presume upon Mozart’s intentions, I venture to suggest that his vision of the Verum Corpus, he being a devout Catholic, was not Laurene Levy and Aurélien Houette groping at each other.
I removed my specs and surveyed the ceiling for this one.
In Memoriam, by Aubert Vanderlinden, aged 21.
Music: the introit to Mozart’s Requiem.
Significant music to insignificant writhing by two men - as usual.
Why study for ten years the advanced vocabulary of classical dance ? Why bother ? For this ?
Le Temps des Lilas, by Bruno Bouché, aged 28
Music: chansonnier ditties of the most banal variety.
Choreography: Forget this. Sub-television.
Epiphénomènes, by Samuel Murez, aged 24.
Music: The Misters
Now you’re talkin!
Samuel Murez is a clever lad, who knocked the socks off us all with his interpretation of The Phantom of the Opera at the POB Internal Concours in 2003. Finally, someone who has figured out that classical dance is THEATRE.
This is a cunning, very theatrical little piece, 15 minutes long, that definitely bears looking at. Choreographically, there is little to get the fangs into, but at least it tells the story, and grabs one by the collar. Murez has an imagination - keep at it lad !
Saint-Germain-des-Prés, by Béatrice Martel, aged 35.
Music: a pack of Jean-Saul Partrish chansonniers who don’t bear listening to.
Sort of thing that happens at one o’clock in the morning at a lousy party, when everyone is half-drunk and so bored as to crave Amateur Amusement.
At this point, I walked out.
Kids, have fun in private if you will. As for the public activity known as "Theatre", it calls for rather more than having fun.