Woolf Works is not a perfect ballet… But in the depth and the scope of its ambitions, and in its haunting meditations on memory, madness and time, it takes both McGregor – and the concept of the three-act ballet – to a brave and entirely exhilarating new place.
Throughout Monday’s opening night, the stellar cast – which also included Natalia Osipova as Orlando and Steven McRae as someone-or-other – danced with uniform brilliance.
Reducing Steven McRae and Natalia Osipova to their bendiness is a criminal waste: what about their musical intelligence, their dramatic power, to say nothing of their elite training in the absurdly difficult art form of classical ballet?
The scale of Norris’ staging, exuberance of Javier de Frutos’s choreography, excellence of Ejiofor’s performance and, above all, exhilaration of Duffy’s text make this a production to relish.
Northern Ballet - Little Monsters/The Architect/Perpetuum Mobile/A Northern Trilogy/Angels in the Architecture - Linbury Studio Theatre
The company as a whole displays a truly satisfying coherence as a group, a belief in what they are doing and a desire to please. Their classical training is clean and precise and their delight in their chosen profession irresistible. Simply, a joy to watch.
If you were told that these were actually five British soldiers reliving daily experiences, you would at first believe it, so brutishly physical is their long opening sequence of quick marches and repetitious exercises through imagined enemy territory.
What is particularly revealing for me is the interaction between the four men and one woman, especially when they are off-duty or waiting for action. Continue Reading
This magical piece draws to a close with a mournful dirge. There’s no conclusion, only the wry acceptance of the coexistence of opposites such as the scared and profane, and the thought that anything can be… Continue Reading
Contemporary dancer 17 year old Connor Scott from Northumberland, a 'wild card' finalist, emerged as the winner on Saturday night... Continue Reading