Review: The Paris Opera Ballet in Alexander Ekman’s Play – “a sight I wonder if I’ll ever see again”

Theatre experiences don’t get much more extra than the Opéra Garnier… add Alexander Ekman’s Play to the equation, and you have an unforgettable night on your hands.

The Paris Opera has always been the trailblazer when it comes to (present day-ish) truly modern work – think William Forsythe circa 1987 – and by modern I mean work that actually propels the art form forward from within the ballet company context.

This fact seems to still be very much the reality. And considering Play was created in 2017, this review and any associated thoughts are actually seven years out of date… mortifying.

To try and describe Play in its entirety would be to do it a disservice. The work’s intention is far bigger than what it physically presents, and context is also paramount.

Some creations feel site-specific, and I’d argue that Play is one of them in many ways. Space and resources immediately spring to mind. The Garnier stage is infamously vast, and one assumes that the POB has the cash flow to support such a risk-taking project. Most companies don’t have such luxuries. The juxtaposition between modern work and an 1875 performance space also can’t be underestimated. In this combination everything feels alive and bristling.

To the work itself. Play is split into two halves and presents two worlds that somewhat converge in the end. The subject matter is the title, and specifically the potential joy associated with the games we played as naive children, and where and why it leaves us in adulthood.

Ekman’s overall structure is astounding as he doesn’t follow existing formats. So often we see work presented with a crescendo pattern – things build until the finish – whereas with Play Ekman offers euphoria first, then reflective melancholy, followed by a (slight) cathartic lift. It’s intelligent, powerful stuff.

Alexander Ekman’s Play, photo by Anne Ray, POB 2017 – 1

Alexander Ekman’s Play, photo by Anne Ray, POB 2017 – 5

Alexander Ekman’s Play, photo by Anne Ray, POB 2017 – 6

The stage is a giant white box with a raised platform at the back and a green tree in bloom placed off-centre. Multiple white cubes hang from the ceiling, and the back of the stage has numerous doors used as entrances and exits. Musicians reside on the platform, and the main space sees all manner of objects come and go. Including the dancers.

The piece opens and closes in the same way, with a lone male dancer in front of the house curtain. He’s actually in place as the audience enter the auditorium, and play is the nature of his movement: internal, exploratory, risk-taking and liberated.

As the curtain rises a huge number of dancers appear, all wearing different variations of white clothing. They play a game of follow the leader which sets the tone. Each leader seems to improvise joyful movement that comes to them in the moment, and their contemporaries follow with equal pleasure.

Next, we see a duo between a female dancer on pointe and a male dancer with a microphone. Every move she makes, he accompanies with percussion made with said mic. They both perform on white cubes to elevate the music visualisation experience.

Following is a section I labelled ‘random collection’. Why? Because it features a couple executing a spontaneous in feel modern pas de deux, she on pointe, he partnering and lifting. Elsewhere we see two men playfully sparring, a bare-chested man wearing a huge white dress moving slowly around the stage. An astronaut with moon landing flag, a dancer on pointe completely covered in long, off-white hair, and I mean covered. Numerous dancers with different forms of spherical headgear and a rather stressed, teacher of sorts trying to manage the proceedings. Think the most elegant, Parisian version of Miss Trunchbull.

What does it all mean? Good question. How does it make one feel? Alive and immersed in an experience. One of unpredictability, randomness and curiosity.

Where could Ekman go next? You’ve got it. An endless collection of female dancers wearing flesh-tone underwear and cycling helmets that have antlers made of branches. What do they do? Move en masse as if huntresses doing appropriately aligned stag leaps. From nowhere they instantly stop, looking like a collection of powerful statues, next they’re seen stalking off into the distance. A long line of Sylvias, communicating agency with their hip-led walks on pointe. Reference to play? Unsure – but an unforgettable vignette to add to the list!

Next, we experience the first interactive element of the evening (the night finishes similarly but on steroids!). A dancer brings a giant white balloon onto the stage, and very soon it’s propelled into the auditorium. Something so simple completely alters the space and the people who inhabit it. Until this point, I’d say the audience were actively engaged. Now, we’ve all turned into children who just wanna play – and we did with gusto! Until Trunchbull started blowing her whistle to get the balloon back. Spoilsport.

Alexander Ekman’s Play, photo by Anne Ray, POB 2017 – 2

Alexander Ekman’s Play, photo by Anne Ray, POB 2017 – 3

Closing the first half is a scene I’ve never witnessed before in live theatre, let alone in a ballet company production, or any kind for that matter. Literally hundreds of green balls fall from the ceiling like rain. Trunchbull stands there with an umbrella, in denial, getting battered. And the balls keep falling. Soon the dancers return and let rip; running and sliding, creating two camps playfully goading each other. Balls fly and roll and, as the Garnier is raked, they all tumble forwards. The orchestra pit has an elevated floor for the production, so of course it’s now become a ball pool – cue endless play… falling in, thrashing around, balls flying etc. This whole section was total euphoria. And a sight I wonder if I’ll ever see again.

The second half is a different place. We’ve entered into Miss Trunchbull’s world. A grey one where corporate expectation is the name of the game. The dancers now all wear grey, work clothes, stilettos, glasses. There’s a smoking area, a dead-looking tree and perfunctory movement abounds. A phone rings, “Oui? Non,” and repeat. The movement style is repetitive gesture whether from a chair, in a single file line, or individually moving around a white cube. In this section, there were nods to de Keersmaeker, Bausch and Forsythe.

There’s also a classical couple interspersed doing the do (adagio pas de deux on cubes), and this I couldn’t really work out. As in its significance, and why? It doesn’t necessarily jar… but equally feels unnecessary.

Broadly speaking, Ekman creates a melancholy atmosphere. Not of pure sadness, but rather reflection. This is emphasised by philosophical, recorded musings being played as a backdrop. The sentiment is primarily discussing societal pressures, and how these expectations become the agenda and everything else gets left behind. Like joy. Play.

Throughout the above a lone dancer is in the ball pool walking in the slowest slow-motion I’ve ever seen. The kind that causes you to feel like you’re falling over. He did it so well I often forgot he was there… but then he’d catch my eye again. A constant presence of perpetual expectation and obligation perhaps.

As the piece draws to an end we witness the convergence of the two worlds. The alive tree returns, and the corporate adults partake in some of the play their former selves revelled in. Only now it has a calmer feel, verging on the therapeutic. This developed cohesion made me consider how play in our youth is inherent, whereas in adult life it’s something we aim to squeeze into our hectic, already bursting-at-the-seams schedules. With Play, Ekman has managed to contemplate big subject matter through the doing of something in order to highlight its absence, and that’s no mean feat. Life is for living…? La vie est pour vivre mes amis.

For the record: Ekman isn’t alone in this venture, and without the below collaborators the experience wouldn’t be the same:

Music – Mikael Karlsson
Costume Design – Xavier Ronze
Lighting Design – Tom Visser
Video – TM Rives
Singer – Calesta “Callie” Day

Bravi all, and especially to Karlsson. What a vast world he created in his score of allsorts.

Matthew Paluch Guest Author

Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.

Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.

He is a member of the Dance Section of The Critics’ Circle.