Programmes Hans van Manen Festival

In creating the ballet, Van Manen’s starting point was an imaginary mirror wall down the centre of the stage, making the movements on stage right a reflection of those on stage left, and vice versa. But Van Manen wouldn’t be Van Manen if he didn’t break that strict symmetry later on in the ballet and then make ingenious variations on it.

A central role in Metaforen is reserved for a male pas de deux and a female pas de deux. Although both were unusual at the time, it was mainly the male duet that created a stir. So much so, in fact, that some colleagues and good friends of Van Manen advised him – in vain – to scrap the pas de deux. After the premiere, the duet was often regarded as a plea for homosexual rights and emancipation, although Van Manen’s sole intention was to show that a pas de deux could be danced equally well by two men.

The duet, created in 1981 on Rachel Beaujean and Clint Farha, is an ironic game of attraction and rejection. With a pianist as the third, important link in the game, it is as if the two dancers enter into an intimate dialogue about love, which cannot be expressed in words. Clint Farha: “Sarcasmen is about the games that lovers play with one another. About who dominates who.” Rachel Beaujean: “It’s about challenging each other, without souring the relationship. Because – we do love each other.”

Van Manen was very specific about how he wanted the ballet performed. Beaujean says, “I remember receiving lots of compliments after dancing it at the Carré theatre and feeling really popular. But the next day Hans said we had to rehearse it again. He thought it had been over the top.” Farha adds, “We were treading a fine line. Sarcasmen has to be provocative and tantalizing, but at the same time classy, chic and erotic.” About her role, Beaujean says, “Hans wants you to be a femme fatale; refined and cultured, rather than vulgar.”

The piece is based on Benjamin Britten’s Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge, opus 10. Inspired by the music and using nine of the eleven variations, Van Manen indulges in contrasts: sharp and flowing, precise and free, angry and melancholy. But no matter how diverse, together the nine sections form a natural, yet stunning unity.

Following a powerful opening scene for the five couples, two pairs of soloists break free of the ensemble. The first couple’s duets are dominated by a suppressed tension. Despite the slow movements, their dancing is charged with energy. The duets of the second couple are lighter in tone and pervaded by tenderness and sensuality. In between the duets, the two male soloists steal the show with two energetic solos: one full of pride and swagger, and the other frenzied with raging fury. To Britten’s Funeral March, the whole ensemble advances slowly across the stage, generating an unparalleled effect that exudes an indefinable threat.

In a white set with a shifting, illuminated neon line on the horizon (designed by Jean-Paul Vroom), four men display their virile strength to four women, dancing to Beethoven’s Fugue. Their stretched arms, clenched fists and measured movements lend a whole new dimension to Beethoven’s impressive composition. When the women take over the dancing, the same themes return, but now the movements are softer and more rarefied. A short group section is followed by four duets, in which the partners challenge one another; sometimes coolly, sometimes playfully and sometimes with pent-up aggression.

In the second section, to Beethoven’s Cavatina, the distance between the sexes becomes smaller and the agitated tension makes way for lyricism. The choreography for the ensemble exudes eroticism in the purest sense: tender, yet also powerful with taut lines, whereby the women – as always in Van Manen’s works – are always a match for the men.

Walking and running, with movements that come from the hips, they immediately claim all the attention. In constantly changing combinations, Van Manen propels them forwards. Reflecting Górecki’s music, the group sections are taut, energetic and pulsating, yet the continual eye contact between the dancers creates a charged atmosphere at the same time. This tension is stepped up further in two duets, the first of which exudes romance and tenderness. In the second duet, the dancers challenge one another to the limit.

Polish Pieces is very reminiscent of a multicoloured painting that has come to life. This is partly due to the choice of colour for the close-fitting Lycra costumes designed by Keso Dekker, to which much thought was given beforehand. Van Manen wanted to have two coloured ‘families’; one for the men and one for the women. In addition, each dancer had to look totally different to the others, while everyone had to remain visible at the same time.

Following the vicious satire of Sarcasmen (Piano Variations II), a temporary truce between the sexes appears to have been declared in Trois gnossiennes (Piano Variations III). Although it starts with repressed tension between the man and woman, the atmosphere gradually changes to one of submission and harmony. The partners display a natural trust in one another and complement each other perfectly.

As in Sarcasmen, Van Manen puts the piano and the pianist centre stage in Trois gnossiennes, making both of them an important part of the choreography. The pianist is slowly pushed around the stage – grand piano and all – by three dancers. And the choreographer leaves the opening and final chords of the music solely to the pianist, as Van Manen’s tribute to the composition: his source of inspiration.

Over fifty years old, yet apparently timeless, this work is not only about the visible restriction of the space, represented by three austere walls that mark off the playing field – or rather battlefield. It is mainly about the emotional space that people sometimes give one another, but more often do not. The ‘room’ in which the men and women meet is bare and empty, with no windows and lit only by three bulbs, and is reminiscent of a cellar or warehouse, or even a laboratory. Especially when the only door to the room shuts, they are stuck there together at each other’s mercy. Van Manen thus raises the question of how to survive in such a restricted space of eight metres wide, six metres deep and four metres high, and how to ensure that others don’t get too close to you. Or vice versa: how to break through the evasive stance someone adopts.

The clock on the wall makes the audience aware of the marvel of time: one minute can pass in an instant, or it can take ‘hours’.

In Three Pieces for HET, Van Manen wanted to investigate the principle of the anti-climax. He deliberately chose to begin with a group of dancers and then to let the choreography run down, as it were, by ending with two dancers. “I’ve unravelled a piece of knitting, rather than knitting it”, he said himself about the work.

Even when the group section is left out, this principle still holds. The first part of Two Pieces for HET is a swirling, nervously energetic duet performed at breakneck speed. The second is a tranquil adagio that gradually decreases in movement density. Rather than ‘starting in first gear and gradually revving up the engine’, Van Manen has the two dancers ‘change down from fifth to second gear’. Former principal Sofiane Sylve, who danced the premiere with Gaël Lambiotte, summed up the effect prosaically: “Afterwards, you’re broken.”

Van Manen’s ballet evokes the atmosphere of an increasingly heated dialogue between a man and woman, multiplied by six other couples. But, he says, it’s not a continuous narrative. “I wanted the dancers to keep doing new things, a bit differently each time, but in such a way that all those different things are eventually connected to one another.”

He sums up the essence of the ballet as follows: “It’s about everything that goes on between people in the world.” He has now changed the ending, danced by the soloist couple. “In the original version, she lies on top of him at the end. Now, she lets down her hair and looks at him, but stays sitting down in irritation. There’s no hint of a relationship anymore and the ballet has an open ending.”

As usual, Van Manen took his inspiration from the music; in this case, Christoph Eschenbach’s unusually slow performance of the adagio from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata no. 29 in B-flat major. The master choreographer was inspired to carry out a deep investigation into just how slow a movement can be. He once described the result as “a wheel that is still just moving after a push, just before it falls.”

In the opening section and the subsequent short pieces for the six soloists, it is evident how much the dancers have to move as one and almost breathe together. Each group section is followed by a duet for one of the couples. The first is tender, although the woman does regularly try to escape the man. Here, the movement idiom is downwards and grounded, whereas the second dynamic duet seems about to take flight, with snappy extensions and high lifts. The tangible unrest of these two duets makes way in the third pas de deux for harmony and submission. In breathtaking slow motion, the deceleration reaches its absolute peak here.

To music by Joseph Haydn and Peteris Vasks, the four dancers perform duets in alternating combinations. After these brief encounters, the women leave the stage – as if they were just chance passers-by in the men’s lives – and the men repeat their previous choreographic duel.

Simple Things is peerless if only for the perfect cohesion between music and dance. Parvaneh Scharafali, a dancer from the original cast, says, “Hans plays with the music. He has a very refined musicality, which was quite difficult to pick up for us dancers, especially in the fast sections.” Her former dance partner Lukáš Timulak adds, “But he was very good at demonstrating what he wanted. And he really enjoyed doing it too. If he were a bit younger, I think he’d still really enjoy dancing a ballet like Simple Things himself.”

Van Manen’s response to the selected compositions was a series of choreographic variations for nine dancers, in which duets alternate with sections for three men. The duets highlight the different qualities of three dance couples, and the male sections (to two Goldberg Variations by Bach) are meant to ‘explode’ in between the duets like choreographic fireworks.

Yet the choreographer felt they were not explosive enough. In 2019, he adapted the work for Ballett am Rhein, in Germany, replacing the harp with piano and radically changing the sections. In Dances with Piano, both the male trios have an even stronger and more vivacious style. “Because”, says Van Manen, “it had to be clear that they have nothing to do with the rest of the ballet. Although…”

Dances with Piano is having its Dutch premiere in this Hans van Manen Festival. The German newspaper Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung wrote about the ballet’s reception in Düsseldorf, “A whole house full of people who had lumps in their throat and didn’t quite know how to handle their applause and express the sensations of joy, beauty and melancholy left behind by every great Van Manen ballet.”

Andriessen composed Symphonieën der Nederlanden for two brass orchestras. This soon suggested a choreographic form to Van Manen – images of American marching bands that perform at big events or sports matches immediately sprang to mind. “Parade-like; one big group of dancers that continually marches on and never stands still.”

The 24 dancers walk in clear, geometric patterns, whereby the ensemble keeps splitting up into smaller formations that intermingle and then shift away from each other. Straight lines and taut movements dominate the choreography, while Keso Dekker’s costumes create surprising optical effects.

Just like the composition, the ballet consists of seven short sections, each with its own atmosphere and character. “Actually, the music is one big climax. There’s no time to work towards something. You have to get to the point straight away.”

From Piazzolla’s extensive oeuvre, Van Manen selected five contrasting compositions for his ballet, which he called simply 5 Tangos. In the piece for fourteen dancers, he aimed to combine the repressed passion of the tango with the cool distance of classical ballet technique, but he wanted to avoid any hint of ballroom or Latin folklore in the choreography. It resulted in a masterpiece of unparalleled precision and rhythm; virtuoso and explosive, yet also wonderfully sultry and subdued.

5 Tangos was not just the ballet through which Van Manen introduced Piazzolla’s music to the Netherlands, but it is also one of the most often danced Van Manen ballets worldwide. And the third section – the spectacular male solo to Vayamos al diablo – has become one of the most popular variations at international ballet competitions. Van Manen would often turn on the television on a trip abroad and suddenly find himself in the middle of his solo (incidentally, without having given his permission to dance it).

Five couples surround the male soloist in Four Schumann Pieces, and over the years much has been written about the relationship between them. The main character has been described as someone who continually enters into doomed relationships, a man musing on romance with his fantasies portrayed by the surrounding couples, a lone wolf or even a symbol for the composer Robert Schumann. Van Manen sees it differently himself, “I don’t like all that psychology. It’s all very inventive, but what am I supposed to do with it? Okay, you could call him a lone wolf: he dances with everyone and nothing works out. But that doesn’t upset him at all!”

Four Schumann Pieces has grown into one of Van Manen’s most popular and most often performed ballets. The main role has been interpreted by a wide range of dancers, including Rudolf Nureyev, Han Ebbelaar, Wayne Eagling, Boris de Leeuw and Matthew Golding. And every performance was different, says Van Manen. “Not just because of the differences in personality, but also because a role like this can – no, must – change with the times.”

They emphasise the sublime interplay of colours and bodies that Van Manen creates to the pulsating, jazzy music from David Byrne’s album Music for The Knee Plays. He magically interweaves ‘red’ and ‘green’ ensembles, ingeniously mixing green rows with red ones, and changing the whole image with one simple jump or turn.

Last month, when the Junior Company danced the ballet in their touring programme Shooting Stars, the newspaper NRC wrote, “The programme closed with an evergreen work by Hans van Manen. In the Future, with crystal-clear choreography and music by David Byrne, is excellently suited to young dancers, yet this does not detract from its ingenious construction and costumes – leotards that have bright green fronts and signal red backs. The visual effect is optimally exploited right up to the final moment and has been delighting audiences since 1986.”

Van Manen created the ballet a year earlier for Present/s, a double programme of nine world premieres, presented on the occasion of Dutch National Ballet’s fiftieth anniversary. He took his inspiration from four very different pieces of music, as well as from two couples, each with their own special qualities. The first couple is lyrical and really excels in adagio work, and the second is fiery and virtuoso. “But it never becomes a competition”, the choreographer stressed on the eve of the premiere. “I don’t like that at all. For me, it’s all about the personalities of the dancers that I want to bring out. Although sometimes I turn the roles around a bit. Then I let the lyrical dancers be virtuoso and I try to get the virtuoso couple to dance as ‘inwardly’ as possible.”

The movement idiom remains typically Van Manen. But he says, “I do always try to add something new; something to make the atmosphere totally different to my previous ballet.” In Variations for two couples, everything is “low down” – even the dancers’ lifts. “This time, I didn’t want anything high; anything reminiscent of traditional ballet.”

The only small thing about Solo is its duration. In every other respect, it is a grand work – a magnificent demonstration of dynamics, beauty, technical virtuosity, bravura and, last but not least, infectious joy of dance. Solo sparkles, crackles and swings, enthralling the audience with its incredible speed and excitement. The choreographer succeeds in painting a wonderful portrait of a man nearly bursting out of his skin with energy, who is in dialogue with himself and the world. The three dancers embody the different facets or ‘colours’ of the man. However, it is probably just as plausible to say that Solo is about three men pushing and challenging one another, and who can only do so in this whirling way because they are so strongly connected and complement each other so well.

Van Manen has also shed new light on Bach’s Violin Partita No. 1. Former NDT dancer Václav Kunes, who was one of the original cast, says, “Through Solo, Hans has added an extra layer to Bach’s music. He has visualised so many details, nuances and transitions that are concealed in the score.” “Hans didn’t use Bach”, adds ex-colleague Jo Kanamori, “He actually felt Bach.”

Van Manen created Concertante for eight juniors of NDT 2. The way he introduces the dancers one by one at the beginning of the ballet arose logically, says Van Manen, from the slow, beautifully even opening section of the music. Afterwards, the choreography unfolds in a timeless beauty of group sections, trios and duets, which follow one another in a surprising yet completely logical way.

Human relationships form the overarching theme of all Van Manen ballets. According to the master choreographer, there’s always something going on between the people. In the case of Concertante, this involves a thriller-like suspense: something’s brewing, something’s bubbling, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “However much people love one another, you never know what the other person’s thinking. You try to take account of them, but before you know it you’ve got it wrong again.”