Review: LYON OPERA BALLET: MERCE CUNNINGHAM FOREVER, Sadler’s Wells

The Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels Festival continues across venues in London with the Lyon Opera Ballet presenting Merce Cunningham Forever.

Cunningham needs no introduction…yet somehow we see very little of his work performed in the UK. It comes down to the Europeans giving us an insight into serious, modern dance, and an experience of his canon.

The double bill includes Beach Birds and BIPED, and both works were created in the 90s, which in itself is a pause for thought. Works that are 34 and 26 years old, respectively, still feeling this modern is no mean feat. And I go as far as to say they in fact feel timeless. In both nature and content.

Opening is the 1991 Beach Birds, which I'm told is the more ‘zen’ style of Cunningham - and I'm absolutely in agreement. To watch this piece is to bask in nature itself. The cast of 11 dancers are all dressed in monochrome unitards, with their hands gloved, and as the curtain rises one sees a random patterning of birds in quiet reflection. The movement in the stillness is palpable, with almost invisible undulations and rotations as if a gentle breeze is in control of everything that happens.

Research suggests that chance theory is at play, in relation to the movement and lighting, so no matter how purposeful and harmonious the work might feel, for all we know, the powerful instance may have never even happened before. Talk about mind melt!

Some of the language is to be expected if one's familiar with Cunningham: line, tilt, triplets, hops, passages of jumps etc. Yet elsewhere there's also new propositions: melting, full body gentle shimmies and bird mannerisms. I saw the animalistic traits in nervy jumps, quivering limbs and arm shaping - both beaks and wings.

The John Cage score, Four3, played live, is a revelation and acts as a backdrop to the zen, nature-informed voyeurism. One hears a rain stick, something similar to static electricity and singular piano notes that continue until they stop. Disassociation abounds, and more fool anyone who doesn't just sit back and let it all wash over them.

After the interval BIPED takes the ambiance in a different direction. From the moment one sees iridescent lycra, and movement with punchy dynamic, we know that tranquility has been left behind.

BIPED is a dense work, and confirms the urban legend in relation to Cunningham: it's impossible to dance. The members of Lyon Opera Ballet are more than capable, but even they, after endless rehearsals and numerous performances one assumes, aren't able to execute certain passages seamlessly. 

The very tricky content tends to be performed on one leg with numerous shifts in the body, consequently the axis. It's here we see corrective hops, or gesturing legs having to touch the floor in order to reboot and dive back in. Cunningham also makes the dancers turn on bare feet - double spins - which can't be comfortable no matter how calloused the skin has become!

The work is on the long side, or perhaps that's because it's seen after Beach Birds, but the density is of value and allows for potent connectivity, in both spatial relationships and actual touch. And the Gavin Bryars’ score never tires - very American in sound for an Englishman.

The multimedia addition of projections on a front gauze including lines, circles and digital, stick-like dancers only add to the layered feel, and confirm Cunningham way ahead of the current AI fascination.

My only reservation about the whole evening is the heteronormative structure. It's always men and women dancing together, and the men lifting the women etc. Considering the majority of material isn't sex/gender specific, and Cunningham was a homosexual man, it makes one wonder why aspects feel so concretely binary. Not a game changer, just a thought…

The Dance Reflections by Van Cleef & Arpels Festival continues across venues in London until 8 April

Image credit: Agathe Poupeney

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