Reviews EdinburghNationalReviews Published 15 August 2016

Review: Natalia Osipova & Guests at the Festival Theatre Edinburgh

12th - 14th August 2016

They said I didn’t know what I was getting myself into: Rosemary Waugh reviews Natalia Osipova & Guests at the Edinburgh International Festival.

Rosemary Waugh
Natalia Osipova and Sergei Polunin in Run Mary Run by Arthur Pita, as part of Natalia Osipova & Guests at the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh.

Natalia Osipova and Sergei Polunin in Run Mary Run by Arthur Pita, as part of Natalia Osipova & Guests at the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh.

Run Mary Run

It’s impossible not to be captivated by Natalia Osipova and Sergei Polunin. The idea of the principle ballerina with the bad boy outcast of the ballet world who now primarily dances only with her, is almost too fairy tale for the dance form that most embraces fairy tales. Which is rather teenage of me, right? But then Arthur Pita’s Run Mary Run, which starts the Natalia Osipova & Guests programme is unashamedly teenage in its own right.

The Amy Winehouse references, the bad neon fashion, the dodgy denim turn-ups and the home hair dye job are perfectly accompanied by a soundtrack of The Shangri-Las. In keeping with being teenage, it is also deliberately rebellious. Reactions to its performances in London made it clear that this show is decidedly not what some think classically trained ballet dancers should be doing. Polunin as Jimmy throws back vodka shots and lights cigarettes onstage (like real ones with tobacco and paper, not the modern e-cigarette variety). It’s the ballet dancer’s diet of Lily (Mila Kunis) in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan.

There’s a strong sense of self-awareness about Run Mary Run. An acknowledgment that people think Osipova is stupid for being with Polunin when he is more interested in self-destruction – represented here with a heroin injecting scene – and that there’s something pathetic in her clinging to him – rendered literally in a koala-bear hug here. Perhaps she should take the advice and run, Natalia, run!

But the joke, it appears is actually on everyone else. This is literally Osipova’s show (Polunin is one among three ‘guests’) and this opening feels like a really fabulous ‘fuck you’ to the dance purists and gossips. Because we actually know nothing about Osipova and Polunin’s relationship and, furthermore, this type of sneering is always accompanied by a certain misogyny; it is assumed that the sweet female is too simple to understand the tough male will inevitably leave her. These assumptions are mocked here, as both play up to their requisite stereotypes: he is the leather-jacked cad and she is the pretty ballerina in pink tulle-layered skirts. The Shangri-La’s sing out, “They said I didn’t know what I was getting myself into,” and after adopting the circle skirt for a short period, she unzips the waistband and tosses it across the stage into the wings. Life is too short for this bullshit.

Qutb

If Pita’s choreography draws the majority of the attention to Osipova in Run Mary Run, then Qutb by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui takes this further and has all other bodies orbiting around her. One intended interpretation of the work is that Osipova is Venus, with Jason Kittelberger as Mars and James O’Hara as Earth moving around the central female. Together they form an integral part of the whole of the solar system and in doing so play with another theme of the work of co- and inter-dependency.

An intense warmth permeates through Fabiana Piccioli’s set and lighting design. You can almost see the wavering horizon of a hot climate as the three bodies entwine and untangle themselves in infinite combinations.

Ospiova’s choice to perform contemporary dance as well as ballet has not been universally embraced. The programme essay by Sarah Crompton mentions Sylvie Guillem’s foray into contemporary dance – but only after she had reached her peak in classical ballet. The idea of doing both is seen as either self indulgent or simply puzzling, depending on your viewpoint. But the idea of a ballet dancer reaching into new territories should come as no real surprise.

Comments on the modern era often focus on technological advances, but these have not entirely resulted in the triumph of the machine over man. Instead it has also offered us the potential of making the human body fitter and more athletic in ways never seen before. Whilst watching Osipova, I think of the American gymnast Simone Biles, a woman who is so good at her sport she has moves named after her that are deemed too difficult for the vast majority of other competitors to even attempt. Her training regime includes the use of space age apparatus including body suits of compressed air that help to ease the insufferable aching of Biles’ legs following her gym sessions.

The physicality and limits of what ballet dancers are capable of has changed beyond recognition. They don’t make ballet dancers like they did in Degas’ day. This performance suggests that one of the ways in which Osipova will stretch what is considered possible for a ballet dancer is in mastering both the repertoire of the classical ballet and the very different discipline of contemporary dance.

Silent Echo

When the world is not revolving around Osipova in this triple bill of works, it positions her as looking it squarely in the eye. Kimie Nakano’s costumes for Qutb are understatedly androgynous – a cross between the dirty jeans Hedi Slimane look of the early 2000s, with the 1980s ‘nothing-comes-between-me-and-my-Calvins’ advertisement style. It’s notable that Osipova is in the tight trousers and bare chest outfit of Carlos Acosta and other male dancers that have in the past accompanied her tutu-encased form.

Danielle Scutt’s costumes for the final work of the trio, Silent Echo by Russell Maliphant, continue this theme of androgyny. This time there is also a feeling of undoneness. There is a hint of the rehearsal room in the slight looseness of Ospiova’s black, cropped trousers. Along with this, the sight of a ballet dancer with her hair untied and flying in a tangled sheet through the air makes the viewer feel like they are witnessing the breaking of a taboo.

It is only towards the end of the piece that the attention temporarily shifts from the female star of the event. Polunin is left alone to perform his solo section of the slightly-altered pas de deux formation of the work. He leaps repeatedly into the air, rounded muscularity undercut by the fluidity of the movements. Augmented by the grey-blues of Michael Hulls’ lighting design, the scene resembles the free-flowing beauty of Picasso’s cubist paintings. It should be ugly, it should be stark and angular and improper. But instead it is overwhelmingly beautiful.

Watching Polunin dance feels instinctively like something to treasure for life, like you’ve been lucky to witness this genuinely unique human being performing in this way. It’s intoxicating. They said she didn’t know what she was getting herself into but – watching this man dance – I reckon she had a pretty good idea.

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Rosemary Waugh

Rosemary is a freelance arts and theatre journalist, who regularly writes for Time Out and The Stage.

Review: Natalia Osipova & Guests at the Festival Theatre Edinburgh Show Info


Choreography by Arthur Pita, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Russell Maliphant

Cast includes Natalia Osipova, Sergei Polunin, Jason Kittelberger and James O'Hara

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