Zurich Ballet Reimagines Stravinsky

By Patricia Boccadoro

PARIS, 24 November 2001 - The Ballet of Zurich opened the new season of dance at the Théatre de Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines with a Stravinsky programme. The curtain rose on Pulcinella, a 1980 work by Heinz Spoerli who was appointed artistic director of the ufive years ago. Inspired by the Italian Commedia dell'arte, and incorporating pantomime, acrobatics and constant misunderstandings between the main characters throughout, the ballet was only saved by the youthful energy of the dancers. The average age of the men is twenty-two, and the women scarcely more.

Francois Petit and Karen Seneca were well cast in the roles of Pulcinella and Pimpinella respectively. But despite the fact that it is a purely classical work danced on pointe which allows the company to demonstrate their high technical level, I did wonder whether this dated revival was really necessary.

Stravinsky: Pulcinella
Photo: Peter Schnetz

The second ballet on the programme was a one-act work created by Balanchine in 1972. The choreographer had heard Stravinsky's Duo Concertant whilst in Europe and when writing the lyrical pas de deux, had given pride of place to the score which he had always said was one of his favourite pieces of music. Hence the two interpreters, the elegant Lara Radda and Stanislas Jermakov often pause to better listen to the musicians, the violinist Ada Pesch, and the pianist Alexey Botvinov, who were also on stage.

Since Le sacre du printemps (The Rite of Spring) was first created by Nijinsky in 1913 and danced by Diaghilev's Ballets Russes in Paris, I have lost count of the number of versions around today. The ballet represented a fertility rite in which a young virgin, The Chosen One, is sacrificed to the arrival of Spring, and subsequent stagings have more or less followed the same theme. Spoerli, however, is less concerned with sexuality than with the suffering of mankind in general and his interpreters seem to be more the survivors of some kind of nuclear war than members of a primitive tribe accomplishing their sexual rituals.

Stravinsky: Le sacre du printemps
Photo: Peter Schnetz

The stage is sombre, grey. High in the air, an immense darkened beam crosses the stage horizontally, behind which grains of whitish powder fall steadily to earth. At first glimpse, it could be a waterfall, but given the context of the rest of the work, it might also be the choking dust of the end of time.

Creatures barely human emerge from some sort of cave, slither down the uneven surface and unkempt and dishevelled in skimpy black, writhe along the ground. They are streaked with mud, and as they move rhythmically up and down, they are joined by their men, bestial, who hurl themselves brutally to earth. One by one, they go to the growing mound of powder, and cover their nakedness with the grey-white dust in strict observance of some pagan rite.

Every movement is in perfect disharmony with Stravinsky, and disturbs, particularly Yen Han as L'Elu, terror stricken and caked in grime, with rivulets of blood and sweat streaming down her face. She is stupendous, as indeed are all the troupe. Powerful stuff.


Decor and costumes by Florian Etti.
Lighting by Robertus Cremer.