Afternoon of a Faun (Rushton), to music by Claude Debussy, 2006
There’s something intoxicating about the marriage of ballet and music. When done well, it transcends the physical and the sonic, becoming something otherworldly, an ethereal dialogue between bodies and sound. My latest encounter with this potent fusion was at the Royal Opera House, watching a performance of David Rushton’s Afternoon of a Faun, a piece that captured my imagination from the first hesitant, ethereal note of Debussy’s iconic score.
As a dancer myself, I often find myself analyzing the technicalities of movement, dissecting the leaps and pirouettes, the nuances of arm and hand gestures. But Rushton’s choreography, much like Debussy’s music, invites a more introspective viewing. It isn’t a show of flashy, virtuosic athleticism but a captivating exploration of the evocative power of movement. The faun’s awakening is not a grand entrance but a slow, almost hesitant unfolding. It’s a gradual emergence from a dreamlike state, a journey from stillness to restless anticipation.
The piece unfolds against the backdrop of a simple yet stunning set: a stark, sun-drenched, ethereal landscape painted by the great John Piper. It perfectly encapsulates the spirit of Debussy’s score, that subtle blend of dreaming, languid sensuality, and hushed drama. As the dancers, clad in exquisite costumes designed by Sue Blane, move through the space, their bodies become brushstrokes on this living canvas, blending seamlessly with the evocative landscape.
The beauty of the ballet is that it doesn't over-explain. There's no grand narrative, no complex plot. Instead, it operates in the realm of suggestion, of unspoken desire and melancholic reverie. We see the faun, played with a blend of vulnerability and raw energy by the young star Daniel Proietto, haunted by fleeting visions. His dance is a beautiful, expressive blend of yearning and a raw animalistic urgency.
Rushton masterfully uses Debussy’s shifting moods, from the melancholic sighs of the flute to the pulsating rhythm of the harp, to guide his choreography. In one moment, the dancers flow with graceful ease, mimicking the ethereal, watery passages of the score, and in the next, they explode into moments of passionate abandon, mirroring the moments of heightened tension in the music. There are sections of intricate, tightly woven, ensemble movement where each dancer contributes a vital thread to the tapestry of motion, while other sections explore the rawness of solo performance, showcasing the emotive power of individual movement.
The use of light and shadow, expertly wielded by lighting designer, Peter Mumford, adds another layer of richness to the ballet. The play of light accentuates the graceful line of the dancers’ bodies and creates an almost magical aura around them. At times, they seem to vanish in the shadows, only to reappear again in sudden bursts of luminescence, further solidifying the dreamy and surreal quality of the ballet.
The heart of Afternoon of a Faun beats not in grand gestures or sweeping narratives but in its subtleties. It's a dance about the delicate interplay of light and shadow, of fleeting dreams and passionate yearning, all presented within the language of the body, rendered in exquisite detail. This was not merely a performance, it was an immersion in an atmosphere.
Here are some observations about the different aspects of the ballet: The Music * The score by Claude Debussy, "Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune", is an icon of Impressionist music, capturing a world of dreams, sensations, and the ephemeral. It weaves a tapestry of evocative sound that resonates with the themes of longing and sensual desire in the ballet. * Debussy’s score provides the perfect backdrop for Rushton’s choreography, seamlessly interweaving with the movements of the dancers. The subtle changes in tempo, the shifting moods from quiet longing to almost frantic urgency are all expertly captured in the choreography. * The way in which Rushton choreographs around the pauses, the silences in the music is masterful. The quietude creates an almost unbearable tension that breaks into expressive movement, like a dam giving way under the weight of water. * The haunting, melodic phrasing of Debussy's music allows the dancers' every gesture and movement to speak, evoking emotions without recourse to traditional narrative or plot.
The Dancers * Daniel Proietto's interpretation of the faun was a marvel of physicality and emotional depth. His movement is infused with a restless energy, a constant seeking. It’s not just the powerful athleticism, but the subtle shifts in posture, the way he uses his eyes to convey a complex range of emotions, from yearning and despair to a fierce, almost predatory instinct. * Proietto's poise, his subtle, powerful gestures, all resonated with Debussy’s music in a way that made each movement seem almost predetermined by the music. It felt like an extension of the musical phrasing. * The ensemble work by the other dancers, all exceptional dancers, each contributing to the nuanced story of the piece, complemented the performance. They moved as one, forming ever-shifting patterns, yet each dancer held their individuality within the unity. It was truly impressive.
The Choreography * David Rushton’s choreography is captivating in its simplicity, yet evocative in its use of gesture, line, and space. He doesn’t use traditional ballet steps for their own sake but allows the movement to speak directly, resonating with the emotionality of the music. * It was an unexpected pleasure watching the way Rushton uses both the solo and ensemble elements, sometimes highlighting the lone faun, and at other times allowing the group of dancers to represent the elusive dreams and visions he pursues. * Rushton skillfully manipulates the ensemble, sometimes shaping the dancers into abstract forms or having them move as one fluid organism, echoing the rhythms and pulsating patterns of Debussy’s score. He understands how to capture the very essence of Debussy’s music and translate it into kinetic movement.
The choreography of Afternoon of a Faun is not about story but about suggestion. There are glimpses of a narrative, fleeting hints of desire and longing, but it’s up to the viewer to complete the picture. The beauty of this work lies in the way it invites the viewer to delve deeper, to use their own imagination to weave a story from the captivating tableau of movement and sound.
In a world where ballet often prioritises flash and virtuosity, it’s refreshing to encounter a piece that demands an investment of attention, a willingness to lose oneself in the dreamy, sensual world it creates. Afternoon of a Faun is not just a ballet but a sensory experience. It’s a voyage into the inner landscapes of Debussy’s music and Rushton’s choreography, and the journey itself is the reward. It’s a work of art that will stay with me for a long time, a haunting melody played out in the language of movement.