The flashy and the fantastic Elton Fan

Taking on the life of Elton John would be no easy task, which is likely why Alberta Ballet's Jean Grand-Maitre opted to choreograph a semi-biographical piece on the pop star instead of a concrete biography. Sir Elton John, frankly, is larger than life and the burden on the dancers who portray his character would be immense as they would have some onerous acting to do. Thankfully, Grand-Maitre had the good sense to allow the music to inspire movement rather than force movement into imitating real life.

The dance program started with a flashy, jazzy Bennie and the Jets, complete with rotating stage and metallic cobalt blue bats. Cheers to Kelley McKinlay who managed to perform on the rotating stage for nearly the entire program and still maintain the ability to stand up straight and, even, throw in some grand jetes and saut de basques. Ladies (men?) in black catsuits, complete with feathered shoulders and Charlie Chaplin style hats sauntered about the stage after Elton Fan, transitioning somewhere into the "inner demons", feeding Elton Fan cocaine and caressing him lustily. The costumes are breathtaking and effective: leather thong cups for everyone? Gender bending was the name of the game and the game was highly entertaining. Rocket Man was both playful and impressively technical. Sustained and repeated lifts lit the stage in an unearthly red glow as the dancers futuristic costumes winked at the audience in near darkness.

Yukichi Hattori, who played Elton Fan at the Calgary premiere of Loves Lies Bleeding, is admittedly a better jumper than McKinlay and oozes theatricality out of his pores, but McKinlay truly came alive during the duet between Elton Fan and "Dave" (Mark Biocca). In just white shirts, the men kiss passionately at the beginning and the end of the number, setting the stage for a moving and tortured pas de deux. The extension and the height of McKinlay's jumps seemed to grow as Cross the Bridge crescendoed and Biocca stayed as solid as ever. I found myself grasping at my chest at the end of the number - the choreography, the dancers, the emotion of John's voice was perfectly synced and heartbreakingly moving.

Finally, I feel as though I should stand and whoop for Patrick Doe's energetic and death-defying drag queen performance in six-inch stripper heels. The entire time, I was gnawing at my fingernails, thinking I was going to watch his ankles break, but he managed to do not only pirouettes but Cabrioles and land them both solidly. The whole company received a standing ovation from the sold out house that night, but Doe received thunderous applause and more than a few cheers upon taking a bow.

Some criticize the company for losing the technique and the artistry in ballet by pandering to a commercial, mass media audience but I think the versatility and the eclectic, diverse talents of the Alberta Ballet were showcased in a unique and fun manner through Love Lies Bleeding. True, some sequences seemed a bit repetitive and mildly forced to look like a cabaret, but those were only minutes long and there was always another spectacle happening simultaneously to dazzle the eye. The ballet was never lost but neither was the feeling of being star-struck by the life and music of Sir Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

Who knew such a show could take place and succeed in the heart of staunchly conservative Alberta, with only modest provincial arts funding? I congratulate Grand-Maitre, the Alberta Ballet, its partners and collaborators, and Sir Elton John on a spectacular production. I wish AB the best of luck in seeking permission to tour the performance internationally and hope that this inspired production can be shared with the rest of the world. As at the performance at the Olympic opening ceremonies, I think AB will be well received on an international stage and they deserve to be recognized for their tireless efforts to push the boundaries of dance and performing arts into new and exciting frontiers.

Calgary Herald Review
Toronto Star Review

It's all about the hips!

This past Sunday, I was invited to see my friend Shannon's second spring bellydance recital which is a joint production between the Edmonton Bellydance Academy and Aldiya Middle Eastern Dance schools.

The fun of watching bellydance, I think, includes how colourful and elaborate the costumes are and how confident each dancer seems as she is dancing. Shannon tells me bellydance was intended as a dance both for entertaining men and for communicating and celebrating women, though the latter definition is oft forgotten in North American society. Dances on the bill included everything from slow, sexy dances meant to entice a lover to quick traditional tribal dance to modern-theatre-bellydance fusion conveying suffering. Every single woman - and there were many beautiful women of all shapes and all sizes - seemed poised, graceful, and joyful in their movements. The recital was indeed a celebration of sisterhood and womanly wonder!

I am always amazed at the amount of control required to complete bellydance moves. While I like to think that modern has conditioned my body to be fit and strong, especially around the abdomen, I can't say that I could easily do undulations or belly rolls or hip slides or anything my friend Shannon can do seemingly effortlessly. Every woman seemed to know how to manipulate their lower abdomen versus their upper abdomen versus their obliques at any given moment and all of this was separate from the use of their gluteals and their legs, which is what I would have to use to move the same way!! It is all about practice, I have been assured, and a love of movement, so anybody can pick up bellydance if they just spent the time to learn and practice!

The other aspect of bellydance I found interesting was the facial expressions of the performers. If the movements were to be enticing, the face was quite alluring and mysterious, with a hint of a smile and sparkling eyes. In fact, some types of dances required a veil to cover everything but the eyes and charm still oozed through the veil, which I consider a skill. Sorrowful dances were conveyed through downturned eyes and pained expressions, while happy, fun traditional steps were matched with exuberant, smiling faces! What a difference, I think, from modern where facial expressions are often kept neutral so that nothing distracts from the movement of the body. I'm not sure that I even possess the coordination to keep my face from two extremes while dancing: a neutral, expressionless face (for modern) or a wide, cheek pain-inducing smile (a remnant of childhood dance competitions). Not every dancer had the same expression though moving in unison, which puts a really personalized touch on the moves of each performer. Certainly, bellydance represents a unique approach to expression and quite enjoyed watching all of the dances that night, especially the poor sword-wielding dancers whose performance was plagued by technical difficulties. (Way to persevere, ladies!)

The recital was a significant departure from the performances I had attended of late and change, as always, is good. I applaud the confident and expressive dancing of each one of the dancers that evening and the hard-working choreographers who laid the plans for an enjoyable evening. Who knows? Maybe one of these days, I'll dabble in bellydance myself.

Maybe after my abs recover from my last modern class, though.

Where Theatre Meets Dance

The Edmonton Journal's preview of The Effects of Sunlight Falling on Raw Concrete included a biography of established choreographer and dancer Brian Webb. Sitting forever (as always) on a bus, I read that Webb didn't find dance until his degree in theatre at the University of Alberta forced him to take a dance class as part of his degree requirements. He never looked back (thank goodness!!).

I often forget that choreography constitutes a time-consuming and, often, tortured process for dramatists because they have to integrate body movements along with spoken, video, and prop elements without the movements coming across as pretentious or merely an afterthought. Whereas most movement can be appreciated as a stand-alone element in a dance performance, choreography for plays has to fit a specific context and be more directed to a specific understanding on the part of the audience. Tonight's performance of Beth Graham, Charlie Thomlinson, and Daniela Vlaskalic's The Drowning Girls at the Citadel reminded me that movement is just as important to drama and acting as it is to a dance performance. The play allows the victims of one George Joseph Smith to tell their stories of love, loss, and last thoughts before he mercilessly drowned them. Each woman was wed, insured, and subsequently drowned in the late 1800s by Smith so that he could collect their life insurance before he was caught by Scotland Yard and hanged for his crimes.



Stark blue light floods the floor, on which three immaculately white ceramic bathtubs contain three ghostly white women. The leftmost lady (Vlaskalic) sits up choking and coughing with little ceremony but the second, the rightmost lady (Beth Graham), swings both of her legs on either side of the tub, pulling herself up and out of the water in a splits-position, using her buttocks and core to hold herself up and rigid. The third (Natascha Girgis) does not emerge for quite a few minutes in. The way the ladies perpetually fall back into the tubs full of water re-enacts their deaths over and over, while hinting at the murderer's MO. Slipping into their wedding dresses and white stockings as they recount their whirlwind weddings, getting checked by a doctor for epilepsy, and applying for life insurance all required meticulous choreography and some fantastic unison sequences by all three women. In fact, the women are almost constantly moving, spraying the first row of people with drops of water coming from their skin, their drenched hair, their soaked wedding dresses. Somehow, the women managed to cry real, hot tears for the love they never saw realized in their lifetime and this too joined the water flung around the stage. All of these wet and wild gesticulations only accentuate those moments when the women walk to the front of the stage, light in soft white or translucent blue to make a bleak exposition or candid admission directly to the audience; the silence of their arms and limbs seemed to convey a humourless sincerity not perceived when they were moving. Stillness carries weight in pure dance performances as well, but the use of stillness seems more utilitarian and emphatic in theatre.

The choreography of The Drowning Girls was obviously well-thought out and, I think, really made the macabre humour of the play. Dance is everywhere, readers - you just have to stop to appreciate movement in all of its many forms!!