Rekindled

“Shifting Symmetries” (“Concertante”/”Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet”)
Vienna State Ballet
Vienna State Opera
Vienna, Austria
December 23, 2023, (online: December 27, 2023)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2024 by Ilona Landgraf

The Vienna State Ballet’s newest triple bill combines pieces by Hans van Manen, William Forsythe, and George Balanchine. As Forsythe doesn’t allow video streaming of his works, his In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated wasn’t part of the online broadcast on December 27^th (which showed a recording of the premiere on December 23^rd).
I’ve often been unhappy about the Viennese performances, but what’s to expect when the choreographies given to them are mediocre? This time though, a meaty dance-diet was on the menu, and the company rose splendidly to the occasion.

Concertante (1994) has the punchy elegance that van Manen is known for. It’s sophisticated (but without frills) and so densely energetic that my eyes stayed glued on the dancers. Van Manen doesn’t choreograph pretty steps. His dancers prance cooly and strongly, throw challenging glances, and are forcefully present on stage.
Accompanied by Frank Martins’s Petite Symphony Concertante, Liudmila Konovalova was the first to cross the stage from right to left, her steps dragging as if she carried an invisible weight. Her arms stretched upward in a V, signaling manly determination, but then she stopped, circling her pelvis femininely. As if on a catwalk, one dancer after another emerged from the right side and disappeared in the left wing. Marcos Menha’s forward-reaching arms seemed to feel the semi-dark environment, which the arms of Andrés Garcia Torres cut as if breaking a way through. Aleksandra Liashenko held her arms in front of her chest and then tilted them abruptly open like an exhibitionist. Géraud Wielick was the last one to step out. Tough like a real man, but also femininely soft, he brought the other dancers back to center stage. Four men and four women in total joined in pas de deux and various group dances. Liashenko and Wielick circled one another like a pair of watchful panthers.
At first amenable, Liashenko suddenly turned confrontational, dictating the rhythm. Both parted to either side of the stage, for now with equal levels of strength. In their second encounter, Wielick existed merely to support Liashenko’s explorative drive before he suddenly and aggressively changed her direction. He finally departed into his own sphere.
The petite Konovalova tried to keep the tall Menha at a distance, her hand pressing against his chest. He played along, but the moment his hand touched her chest, she collapsed as if suffocating. Although her legs sliced through the air like machetes, she couldn’t free herself from Menha’s guidance. It took a while until both moved like mirror images of each other.
Striped unitards (by van Manen’s veteran set and costume designer, Keso Dekker) emphasized the clean lines of the movements, the bright colors of their stripes contrasting effectively with the black backdrop.
It was good to see van Manen at the curtain call. The ninety-one-year-old looked as dapper as always.

Balanchine’s Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet (1966), set to Arnold Schoenberg’s orchestration of Johannes Brahm’s Piano Quartet No. 1, is said to depict the sunset of the Austria-Hungarian monarchy. While the ballet’s original décor – draped curtains and chandeliers – created an undefined aristocratic environment, Thomas Ziegler’s new design for Vienna is more specific. On its backdrop, a garden flanks an old castle, both painted in monochromatic pointillism style. The painting’s yellow-golden dots extend to the side wings, making the stage look like an inner courtyard. Vera Richter’s costumes recall aristocratic and folksy chic but are different in each part of the quartet. In part I, the women wear fluffy, ivory-colored dresses with golden corsages and hip scarfs, which returned in part II bare of their golden accessories. In part III, the female corps sported calf-length strap dresses in soft turquoise; the leading ballerina wore soft blue.
The folk dance dresses in part IV were red/gray. Parts I-III involve only one man each, dressed in (I) a jacket and a banded collar vest, (II) a tailcoat, and (III) a silky silver top. In part IV, the men wore gray or red vests over wide-sleeved blouses.
Part I resembled a buoyant outdoor court dance carried along by an elated feeling of spring. Hyo-Jung Kang and Masayu Kimoto led a corps of twelve women, whose lines interwove effortlessly. The symmetry of the ever-changing patterns was mesmerizing. Kimoto was barely visible in the final tableaux, which seemed an homage to womanhood. The etiquette eased in part II during which Kiyoka Hashimoto and Marcos Menha danced an intimate pas de deux, embracing one another and holding hands.
Having more freedom to be themselves, Hashimoto threw herself into daring backbends. A small corps of three women accompanied the couple.
The formations of the fifteen-ballerina strong corps in part III made me think of the Wilis in Giselle, even if their lines weren’t perfectly in sync.
The leading ballerina, Konovalova, relished in a classical adagio – and only moments later playfully flicked her wrist to the sound of march music. She was partnered with Davide Dato who sailed through a snappy solo, his arms stretching with a touch of van Manen style.
Ketevan Papava and Alexey Popov, together with a corps of eight couples, turned part IV into a jaunty Hungarian feast spiced with drama, bragging, and bravado.

The Orchestra of the Vienna State Opera was conducted by Matthew Rowe, musical director and principal conductor of the Dutch Ballet Orchestra. The enthusiastic applause that the musicians received was well deserved.

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