Johan Kobborg, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
A feast of feats
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.A lot of noise is made these days about improved access to the Royal Opera House, and how it's starting to pull in new audiences. But what about access for artists? The steady exodus of Royal Ballet principals in recent years is proof enough of their frustration: too few appearances in too limited a repertoire in a career that is horribly short. The clever ones do something about it.
Johan Kobborg has booked the QEH for two nights. He's already a dab hand at programming, but just as crucially he knows how to rally his friends. Out of Denmark, a showcase of Danish choreography from the 1870s to the present, could have focused solely on his own brilliant technique, or at least used colleagues he easily outshone. Instead, Kobborg's big night out offered a feast of virtuosity in which the tastiest morsels were liberally shared.
Which isn't to say the evening was without problems. The QEH is a pig of a stage for classical dance. And the contrast of Alina Cojocaru's grand white tutu and exalted classical manner against a scuffed floor and a backcloth that looked as if someone had dropped their chips on it was bizarre. And perhaps Kobborg should have brought along his own CD player. The sound reproduction of the music to Harald Lander's 1942 Festpolonaise was so excruciating that some people left after five minutes.
But the practical shortcomings paled in the face of such a fascinating package, winningly delivered. Bennet Gartside and Ric Cervera gave a sparky account of Bournonville's 1876 Jockey Dance, whipping their steeds along the banks of the Thames. Bethany Keating and Martin Harvey were properly charming in Bournonville's Tyrolean duet while subtly playing Harvey's tiddly Austrian shorts for laughs. And the full company of 10 gave the breathless Tarantella from Bournonville's Napoli a bounce to put Tigger to shame.
New work came in the shape of Afsked ("Leave-taking"), a beautifully nuanced duet by Kim Brandstrup about a tortured end-of-the-affair. Zenaida Yanowsky with her timeless, icon-like face knows supremely how to make her body do the work for her. Saturnine newcomer Dylan Elmore did enough to make us want to see much more of him.
But the dramatic highlight was Flemming Flindt's The Lesson (1963) with Kobborg as the psychopath ballet teacher, Cojocaru his young victim and Zanowksy the hatchet-faced pianist who tidies away the corpses. This ballet has a starry past, but all three made the roles their own: Cojocaru brimming with the irritating juvenile chirpiness of an Olga Korbut, Zanowsky a tragedy of warped and twisted womanhood, and Kobborg transformed into a clammy, Smike-like gibbering wreck whose complexes one could unravel for hours.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments