This site has limited support for your browser. We recommend switching to Edge, Chrome, Safari, or Firefox.

A Hollow Spectacle

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night charts the turbulent romance between a woman beleaguered by psychosis (Nicole) and a man fixated on saving her (Dick)—a relationship modelled on the author’s marriage to Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald. Drama erupts: there’s incest, alcoholism, corruptive wealth and more, much of it arising from Dick’s dual role as Nicole’s husband and her psychoanalyst. Factor in the heady setting—a glam expat resort in 1920s France —and it’s rich material for a stage production.

Performance

Eifman Ballet: “Up & Down”

Place

London Coliseum, London, UK, December 6-10, 2016

Words

Sara Veale

Eifman Ballet performing “Up & Down.” Photograph by Evgeny Matveev

subscribe to the latest in dance


“Uncommonly intelligent, substantial coverage.”

  • Weekly articles from the world of dance
  • Wide diversity of reviews, interviews, articles & more
  • Support for quality art journalism

Already a paid subscriber? Login

Unfortunately, “Up & Down,” a 2015 reworking from Boris Eifman, founder of Eifman Ballet, one of Russia’s major contemporary troupes, fails to capture the verve or introspection of its source material. Eifman’s offering is a hollow spectacle, unwieldy in its storytelling and woefully insensitive in its portrayal of mental illness.

The trouble starts with the form, a patchwork of fleeting scenes stitched together by snippets of Gershwin, Schubert and Berg. It’s enough to get across the broad strokes of the narrative, but the incoherence is off-putting. Abrupt finishes and awkward transitions abound, giving the impression that scenes have been devised individually and assembled at the last minute, with little regard for order or context. A generous critic might interpret this disjointedness as a reflection of the characters’ emotional instability—the up and down that gives the ballet its title—but it feels more to me like poor plotting.

Almost all of the protagonists’ dance happens in service of the plot, leaving little time for character development, though Oleg Gabyshev and Lyubov Andreyeva do what they can to coax out the psyches motivating Dick and Nicole. Gabyshev is athletic and exacting, a confident social climber, while Andreyeva favours a looser, more fitful bearing that hints at her neuroses. There’s a great deal of imaginative choreography at hand, particularly in Andreyeva’s solo phrases, but the clipped pacing rarely lets her articulate Eifman’s sinuous, supple shapes: no sooner does she strike a dramatic pose than she’s set off into another contortion.

The company sequences likewise lack fluidity. Gussied up by turn as club-goers, fashionistas, and sunbathers, the corps reel off can-can lines, swing dances and more, but there’s a baffling amount of futzing in between their jives. These numbers are clearly intended as showstoppers but seldom dazzle.

The show strikes its lowest note during its interludes in the psych ward, populated by loopy, gormless caricatures of the mentally infirm—crazies in a loony bin, essentially. There’s one who clings to a puppet, another who compulsively pulls his pants down, a third who convulses and tugs at a noose around his neck. In between shock treatments from Dick, these grinning dopes galumph around in goofy jigs, including a cringe-inducing prance to “Rhapsody in Blue.” There’s little subtlety and even less sensitivity.

“Up & Down” isn’t without strengths. The stage design is smart, with zippy lights and art deco panels that rise to reveal the horrors lurking in our protagonists’ minds. And there are a few eye-grabbing scenes, not least the quick-fire vignette in which the corps, playing Hollywood execs, film an adventure movie then reassemble as an audience watching it on the silver screen. But bewildering directorial decisions outnumber these assets. Why is there no effort to make Nicole’s father appear any older than his daughter? Where is the exposition to explain the man she so swiftly falls for in the second act? Why gloss over the plot points that spur Dick to crumble and Nicole to improve?

The ballet’s few highlights are not enough to redeem it. Like its protagonist, who ends up as a patient in his own hospital, it appears beyond salvation.

Sara Veale


Sara Veale is a London-based writer and editor. She's written about dance for the Observer, the Spectator, DanceTabs, Auditorium Magazine, Exeunt and more. Her first book, Untamed: The Radical Women of Modern Dance, will be published in 2024.

comments

Featured

Dance Downtown
REVIEWS | Karen Hildebrand

Dance Downtown

One might easily mistake the prevailing mood as light-hearted, heading into intermission after two premieres by Brenda Way and Kimi Okada for ODC/Dance’s annual Dance Downtown season. Maybe this is just what we need to counter world events, you may think. But there is much more to consider beneath the high production values of this beautifully wrought program. Okada, for instance, folds a dark message into her cartoon inspired “Inkwell.” And KT Nelson’s “Dead Reckoning” from 2015 reminds us the outlook for climate change looms ever large.

Continue Reading
Wayne McGregor: Riding the Wave
INTERVIEWS | Victoria Looseleaf

Wayne McGregor: Riding the Wave

It’s not every choreographer who works with economists, anthropologists, neuroscientists and cognitive scientists, not to mention collaborating with the Google Arts & Culture Lab and the Swedish pop group ABBA, but Wayne McGregor wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Continue Reading
After Trisha Brown
REVIEWS | Karen Hildebrand

After Trisha Brown

Dance scholars have been remarking on the great Trisha Brown nearly from the day she first stepped into Robert Dunn’s class—the genesis of Judson Dance Theater—in the 1960s.

FREE ARTICLE
Good Subscription Agency