An afternoon at the ballet

My sweet ballerina friend gave us two tickets for her current performance, and another sweet friend watched the baby, so Jonathan and I got to go! On the way I had a terrible time being Megless, but once we got there I did just fine.

The show was "Studio Two," comprised of three parts: a "Valse Fantasie," "After Eden," and "Always, at the Edge of Never."

"Valse" was lovely and traditional, classical music, six dancers, the women in classic pink ballerina outfits with tulle skirts. The lone guy was in a fluffy white shirt, white tights, and a pink cummerbund, which was mildly scarring but still within the realm of "it's ballet so run with it." They lilted and drifted around the stage, looking effortless and like every little girl's dream. Very fun.

"After Eden" was a meditation of Adam and Eve immediately post-fall - not one of your more cheerful moments in world history. They did a lot with modern dance moves, dramatic lighting, and a certain amount of striking poses and rolling around on the floor. I heard a lot of rave comments from people sitting around us. It was written and choreographed in the 1960's, which I could see. It reminded me of some of the artsy moments from old musicals, like "The Theater" routine from White Christmas. And, ultimately, it's about alienation on lots of levels, so it wasn't supposed to be uplifting. It was well done, but I just don't understand dance very well and it didn't do as much for me.

After intermission, they showed an introductory interview and "Always, at the Edge of Never." The interview helped. The choreographer was playing with themes of "falling through time," rhythm, and momentum, and explained how he'd considered using a Beethoven concerto but went with this "wild" and "primal" piece by a Finnish accordionist instead because of the difference in how the dancers reacted to it. I could see that. The piece had a steady, almost bagpipe-like, bass thumping drone beneath the melody, which varied through all kinds of noises. Part of the time it sounded like jungle noises - no, seriously - and the bass thumping eventually fell out of your conscious listening, but it got inside your head. The piece had different passages, almost different acts, through which the narrative? scenes? meditative aspects? would change. Whatever he was doing, the Finnish piece was definitely the right choice -- Beethoven would have been entirely different.

Meanwhile, there was this long red fluorescent line running horizontally along the entire front of the stage, which lowered so gradually that only about halfway through did I notice it was closer to head-height than the ceiling. I think it symbolized time. The dancers got to where they'd have to slide along the floor under it, or do a lift to help another over it. There was some narrative movement to it, but Jonathan and I couldn't follow it. Urban jungle was the best I could place it. It started with five dancers standing around in trench coats, and another trench coat-garbed man carrying a limp woman on-stage. She revived and they started dancing. Toward the end the first lady starting having stylized fights with the others, like a sandwich, so she and another would block punches with a third dancer in between. I wondered if her aggression was supposed to be drug-induced? Jonathan saw a couple points when the dancers did stop-motion or slowed time. The trench coats disappeared and re-appeared. But what the story was, or whether I'm thinking too meta-narratively, I'm not sure. There was definitely something going on. And it was dramatically effective -- I've rarely seen an audience so fully engaged.

So we had a lovely afternoon, and lots to talk about on the way home. :-)