Dance/music
Les Fêtes Galantes and Les Talens Lyriques
Dir. Christophe Rousset
Manoel Theatre
All good things come to an end and the first Valletta International Baroque Festival did that on a note of cool elegance with a tribute to Terpsichore, the muse of dance.
One also supposes that ideas are already being mooted for next year’s edition
Famed ensemble Les Talens Lyriques, under the direction of Christophe Rousset, with the collaboration of another well-known artistic ensemble, Les Fêtes Galantes, provided a rare evening of high baroque dance and music in the Manoel’s ideal surroundings.
It was a pity that while not claiming to know all of them, I saw only one person from the local teaching world of dance.
Sometimes baroque ballet may not be as spectacular as classical-romantic ballet but it is and remains an important link in the evolution of what developed from it. Baroque ballet can take the simplest form, whereas in the case of the opera-ballet, it involves a combination of dance and singing.
Tchaikovsky himself, in an anachronistic throwback to the baroque/rococo world he loved so much, acknowledges the form in the children’s vocalise at the end of The Nutcracker’s first act.
With the Roi Soleil (Louis XIV) absolutely mad on dance, and with anything at Versailles being aped by almost every European court, ballet (originally arriving from Italy) took a firm hold in France, thanks also to the Gallicised Jean-Baptiste Lully (aka Giambattista Lulli) and Louis XIV’s patronage. Jean-Féry Rebel belonged to the next generation and after him, the peak was reached with Jean-Philippe Rameau, one of the most important French composers and music theorists of the baroque era.
Music by Rebel featured during the earlier part of the performance which was presented without a break. His La Terpsicore (1720) was followed by Les Plaisirs Champêtres (1734) and extracts from his Les Élemens (1737). Even if only for the music, this was a highly interesting selection that revealed Rebel at his peak in a most productive period during his long life.
Béatrice Massin’s choreography is obviously inspired by that faraway period as were the simple, mainly pastel costumes. It was a combination of simplicity and utter elegance of movement and form. It was smooth and, although seemingly repetitive, the movements which seemed to be based on circles, squares and diagonally projected movement did contain some very subtle differences.
Very rarely was there any physical contact between the dancers; at most, they briefly just touched hands. Even when they seemed to be very closely involved working in pairs, there was just that hair’s breadth distance separating them. Still, the energy that flowed between the dancers was easily discernible. One touch I liked a lot was the way in which the dancers made their exits by slipping away from the stage diagonally in some sequences.
The music was superbly performed. Adding to the lustre of George Frederick Handel’s music to his Terpsichore were the voices of a vocal quartet. The bulk of the singing fell upon the gorgeous voice of mezzo-soprano Beate Kielland (Apollo) and that of the lovely soprano Sabina Puértolas (Erato).
They sang close to the orchestra and stage in the lower proscenium. Opposite them was the equally accomplished baritone Jussi Lehtipuu and tenor Paul Crémazy. Their singing was a commentary and reflection upon the action taking place on stage, that ended in the glorification of Terpsichore, supreme as the muse of dance.
At this point one has to congratulate the artistic director of this festival (and of the Manoel), Kenneth Zammit Tabona, and his team, on realising a long-cherished dream which has been a great success.
Standards have been high; room for improvement there is too. It is not the time to rest upon laurels, nevertheless earned with great merit. One also supposes that ideas are already being mooted for next year’s edition.
A very big and special word of appreciation goes to the Government and the many sponsors without whose help the festival would have remained just a dream.