In and of itself, contemporary ballet offers an intriguing and particular perspective on history. It lifts a highly technical practice out of its comfort zone and moves it into a world more like the one we inhabit, as opposed to the realm of fairytale princesses and tragic heroes, and in so doing it both celebrates and capitulates to the modernist ideal, to the notion of science and progress. At times there is something utopian (and dystopian) about it.
The Australian Ballet's 20:21 triple bill of 'contemporary' works features one new and two recent classics of the form. Despite the gap in years and reputation, all three have a vigorous angularity, an urban urgency. From the jazz-tinged, Broadway-speckled athleticism of George Balanchine to the geometric grace of Twyla Tharp and the aggressive passion of the company's own Tim Harbour, this trio smacked of post-revolutionary, post-war cityscapes. Still ballet, but tougher.
Balanchine's Stravinsky-scored Symphony In Three Movements is, in many ways, more Beverly Hills than Sadler's Wells. There's a muscular confidence about it; an American exuberance. The delicate rigour of ballet remains but it's paired to a physicality that would surely exhaust any swan.
Likewise, Tharp's already revered In The Upper Room pounds in time with its mesmeric Philip Glass score. Architectural and rhythmic, yet still lithe and refined, the piece is propulsive and compulsive. Its relentless quality is spellbinding and its ending both obvious and sublime.
As if channelling last century's passion for endless progress, the Australian Ballet's resident choreographer Tim Harbour turns it in on itself with his frenetic and sexy Filigree & Shadow. Darker, more internal and sharp with edges, it's the more patently psychological of the three. The spontaneous eruption of the admittedly supportive auditorium bore testament to its impact.
Having his work sandwiched between those of two luminaries may well have privately daunted the man but Harbour emerged triumphant. His vision exudes surety, honesty and playful invention.
Though not without its slips on the night, 20:21 is an invigorating fusion. If, like yours truly, you have seen and enjoyed the rough-hewn guts of contemporary dance, the addition of the razor-sharp technique of the Australian Ballet undeniably elevates the spectacle. That such a honed methodology sits beautifully inside the modernist evangelism of the choreography is all the more apt. As enjoyable a night at the ballet as you could wish for. Perhaps more so.
