Ballet Biarritz: A French Ballet Company Tackles Spanish Themes
Escaping the hot pavements of one summer afternoon in New York City to sit in the air-cooled Joyce Theater and listen to a fine recording of Maurice Ravel and Manuel de Falla music was a bit of nirvana–and oh yes, there was dancing, too. The Biarritz Ballet, a delightful chamber company, and their director/choreographer Thierry Malandain brought two works for their return engagement in New York. Billed under the umbrella entitled the French Collection festival, both were Spanish in content. The opener, “Le Portrait de L’Infante” was inspired by paintings of Diego Velázquez, especially his “Las Meninas.” He would have been proud of the opening visual. The “Menines,” three massive sculptures of women in dome-shaped skirts, with eerie slits for eyes, and the suggestion of hands folded (the extraordinary work of Manolo Valdes) are stationed across the stage, seemingly ready to police the dancers as they surge in and out of the wings. The dancers, flexing and extending their beautifully carved bodies clothed in scanty natural colored leotards, are mysterious figures as seen against an exquisite orchid-lit background. Eventually the three “sculpted ladies” (who we discover are on wheels) are pushed to other parts of the stage to allow the dancers space for the highly energetic movement--not terribly terrific or original choreography, but paced well to allow breathing room.
Choreographer Thierry Malandain does not attempt to overdo. Rather he pits wry combinations of undulating torsos against a strict adherence to straight legs and pointed feet and adds partnering that is acrobatic-inspired – all of which is distinctly performed with precision and technical expertise. The company is exceptionally well-rehearsed in the ensemble variations, and the performance is sparked by the luscious music.
Photo by Olivier Houeix
The high point was a duet, two men as mirror images. One sees himself and realizes he is disfigured and ugly. He holds his head with two hands, overwrought, issuing open-mouth screams and then bobbing his head violently at this desperate realization, evoking applause mid-choreography from an otherwise rather passive audience.
In the final episode, “Feria,” the dancers become proud horses parading, legs lifted high in distinctive front attitudes until the return of the “Menines” who move downstage calling a halt to the art history lesson and the ballet.
“L’Amour Sorcier (Amor Brujo), de Falla’s famous “Ritual Fire Dance,” takes place in a gypsy camp with a love triangle narrative and a stage covered with greenish-brown leaves that kick up effectively as the dancers move their feet, and stick to their backs as they roll over in erotic love positions. Oh, what an opening! As the men storm out on stage and rip off their suit jackets, one punches the air as if it were a punching bag, setting the mood for the piece. They fall to the stage floor and the women come rushing out to pick up and put on the jackets. We are left to wonder whether these men are dead warriors and the women are mourners.
The piece follows a storyline indicated in press notes, but the choreography was invigorating enough to allow one to forget the written word and follow the passion of the meticulous dancing. At one point the women, dressed in Jorges Gallardo’s striking skirts that ruffle down the back, introduced the spirit of flamenco that was melded with great finesse into the choreography. Malandain has fun with line-ups in both his pieces, but in “L’Amour” there is a wondrous moment, a line of clapping women stomping towards the men as an intimidating chorus line of feminine energy. This piece is a stunner, full of everything Malandain has pursued so rigorously in this Spanish-accented program.