Plunged into darkness, our eyes becoming accustomed, we start to see the outline of bodies, moving as one. As the lights come up, we are confronted with a team of mismatched and almost fearsome creatures, with mixtures of jagged and smooth movements.
A double bill, National Dance Company Wales bring questioning and critical performances, Skinners by Melanie Lane and AUGUST by Matthew William Robinson. Neither aim to give answers to our changing world but aim for us to reflect on our existence and the change around us.
Skinners particularly looks at the digital age, where physicality is distorted beyond recognition and where we live in a virtual world as opposed to reality. This first piece is what we are confronted with from the dark; creatures with recognisable assets yet distorted some what, move as one and then in separate spheres. The movements themselves move from recognisable, to abrupt, repetitive and unusual. With their costuming and contortion of their bodies, we want to understand but we are quickly pulled away, watching something unearthly, at times robotic, at times… no one knows.
It is a piece that you cannot take your eyes off. Even the repetitive movement hooks you, and there is something always catching your eye. Once the performers peel away their outer layer, they become more humanised, but there is still this sense of something lost underneath, as they continue to move unusually and almost unnaturally. It is a high octaned piece, full of dance moves that seem simple and easy, but clearly requires immense talent and skill to perform.
AUGUST, while noted in the programme as inspired by sunsets and sunrises and the liminal space between, to me, it continued this concept of other-worldly, of a digital age. A horizontal light, that throughout counts down and follows the dancers across the stage, gave this sci-fi effect; of a barrier that could not be crossed. Within this, the movement, compared to Skinners is more graceful and fluid – dancers appear from the dark and as the horizontal light moves up, down, forward and back in movement with them, they are highlighted by the shadows created.
Again, unable to take your eyes off, there is something always appearing or disappearing, with moments of increased energy, within the fluidity of their movements. It is sensual and intense, with the performers working more with one another and their bodies than previously, melding into one and separating into something different.
Frontiers showcases the immense talent of the NDCW – from the unusual and avant guard to the fluid and contemporary, Skinners and AUGUST beautifully compete in excellence.
Venue Cymru, Llandudno, October 18th 2024 and touring
(4.5 / 5)
An Imperial Classic Ballet production. Ballet Artistic Director – Katsiaryna Fadzeyeva, Conductor – Nikita Suhik, Concertmaster – Polina Chaika.
Swan Lake, a timeless story that became the standard for classical ballet and redefined the genre. Would this production continue to entrance the audience as much as the ballet has since its first presentation?
The libretto is well known and at its heart is a love story. Prince Siegfried is disappointed at his birthday celebration that no suitable bride is presented to him. After, while hunting he sees some swans by the lake. He is entranced by the white swan, Odette who insists that she and the other swans are human and have been put under a spell by the evil magician, Rothbart that can only be broken by everlasting love. In Act 2, the Prince has to choose his bride and eventually sees Odile, Rothbarts daughter and sees an uncanny resemblance to Odette. In the heat of celebration he confesses his love for Odile, breaking his vow to Odette who watches on from the window. Once he realises, the Prince returns to the lake to see the grief stricken swans. He begs forgiveness of Odette and declares his love. Rothbart challenges him, but love prevails.
The ballet tugs at the heartstrings throughout taking you through a range of emotions from joy to grief. This is enabled by Pyotr Tchaikovsky’s moving score. He pioneered the use of leitmotifs, snatches of music that are assigned to a character and repeated when they appear on stage. Musically it is challenging. On speaking to the first violinist she commented that Tchaikovsky composed on a piano, having five fingers available while the violinist has only got four, the thumb being used as a grip. The orchestra proved the point that dance and music are natural extensions of each other and portrayed the emotions in the ballet really well.
To perform Swan Lake is difficult, comparable to Sleeping Beauty in its complexity, yet the lead roles are compelling for any aspiring dancer. There were a series of tableaux illustrating the skills of the dancers which provided ample evidence that ballet makes extremely difficult manoeuvres look effortless. The part of Odile/Odette is particularly challenging both technically and emotionally yet illustrated that the movement of the human body can be beautiful as it combines grace, poise and strength. This performance did not disappoint, yet again this dance proved to be compelling viewing
The ballet troupe and orchestra, in the midst of a gruelling schedule for their national tour were enthusiastic and committed tonight, although my impression is that the emphasis in this production is on demonstrating prowess rather than storytelling. However, this did not spoil what was an excellent and thoroughly recommended evenings entertainment.
The Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama in Cardiff runs a Community Ticketing Scheme. The Scheme supports a range of eligible people to access a FREE performance. You can see some of the performance’s available this week 23-30/09/24 below. If you are interested there is link to the eligibility criteria and a sign up form below.
Dennis Rollins & Royal Welsh College Jazz: Calypso Cymru
Thurs 26 September 2024 7.30pm
Dora Stoutzker Hall
£7.50-£15
Musical memories from the Windrush Elders Cymru are re-imagined through the musical artistry of jazz giant Dennis Rollins together with Samuel Dubois on steel pan, Cameron Pierre on guitar and Royal Welsh College’s jazz performers. Breathing new life into the calypso-classics of Lord Kitchner, Harry Belafonte, Mighty Sparrow, Monty Alexander and more, the gig will also feature new calypso/jazz arrangements of Jump in The Line, Brown Skin Girl, Angelina and Sly Mongoose. It’ll be sure to have you dancing in your seats!
“It’s going to be a pleasure to return to RWCMD for an expansion of our 2023 collaboration, Calypso Cymru. Here, our connection is the song.” Dennis Rollins
She was fame hungry, he was doomed to follow her. As one hit wonders, this is a story of their big come-back. With Sandy’s determination and Bruno’s blissful devotion to her, they are here; not by popular demand, but by sheer defiance.
With striking aesthetics and a rousing soundtrack, THE BAND is a quirky, humorous display of desperate ambition and blind affection told through awe-inspiring dance, theatre and circus.
Funded by Arts Council England. Developed with the support of Greenwich & Lewisham Young People’s Theatre, as part of Progression (an Arts Council England funded project). Supported by Greenwich Dance and Jacksons Lane.
Join the award-winning ORA Singers for their inaugural Graduate Composers’ Showcase, the culmination of a brand new scheme designed to celebrate the rising stars in composition. Hear the five exceptional new voices in contemporary music: George Parris, Liberty Richardson, Tomos Owen Jones, Emma Pascoe, and Jorge Ramos, with additional ORA commissions from acclaimed composers, Paul Mealor and Odaline de la Martinez, alongside renaissance masterpieces
Exploring the connections between musical traditions and the natural world, Making Tracks brings together exceptional musicians from all corners of the globe. Collaboration has the power to foster a deeper appreciation of both biodiversity and cultural diversity, and this autumn, Making Tracks visits Cardiff for the first time with a fresh line-up of eight musicians performing a captivating programme of solo and ensemble music.
You can find out more information and book ticket here
Information on The Community Ticket Scheme
RWCMD is a performance venue with a range of theatres. We work to support the public to watch the full range of performances, many of which are free and happen regularly, like AmserJazz.
We specifically focus on supporting people who may face barriers to coming to the College. If you are a member of one of the groups below and are interested in seeing a performance at RWCMD for free, please fill this form or phone our Community Engagement Partner – Guy O’Donnell at 029 2034 2854
People from the areas of Cardiff:
Ely,
Caerau,
Canton,
Riverside,
Grangetown,
Butetown,
Adamsdown,
Splott,
Rumney,
Llanrumney,
Trowbridge
Llanedeyrn,
St Mellons
Pentrebane
Asylum seekers and refugees (Referred through membership with partner organisations)
Disabled people (Referred through membership with partner organisations or evidence of status)
Tempo Time Credit network members
Care experienced children and young people.
Groups and individuals supported by Race Council Cymru and Chinese in Wales.
We are keen to learn more about what barriers to study or live performances exist and how we can work to remove them. We seek to learn, share and work with a range of communities.
If you have any queries or you would like someone to speak to your group about the Scheme, please contact Communities Engagement Partner – Guy O’ Donnell.
Guy works on delivering a wide range of engagement activity, working across every aspect of the College with potential students, community groups, schools, colleges, audience members, partner organisations, decision makers and the wider public. You can email him at this address guy.odonell@rwcmd.ac.uk
Everyone has a Kate Bush story. Whether you’re a big fan, have only ever heard her from Stranger Things, met her or know someone who knows someone who has met her. She is a staple of the 70’s and 80’s. So what’s the best thing to do with this love in 2024? Go and see a theatrical homage to the great.
This is not Kate Bush, this is without her and to some level, a love story to a childhood. Sarah-Louise Young is our Kate Bush, intimately telling us about growing up, with every element of comedy in her re-telling of wanting to wear spandex and the practice she has undertaken to move just like the great Kate.
The audience is full of those who love Kate, who have been dragged along, who have only heard a few songs, and we all collect together as Young brings us in with comical outfits, movements and “scenes” playing out Kate’s songs. She uses puppetry from a giant eye, to a mop, which weirdly still feels like something Kate Bush would do. But it brings it down from being a tribute act to something more avant garde and stylistic.
Young is very personable; she is in the audience, speaking with different people, bringing them on stage to party with her and we are all welcome in the room like old friends. She shares her love of Kate with us and so this barrier broken down between audience and performer helps us get on her train.
And it would be amiss to forget her phenomenal singing voice – while I’ve not seen anything else from Young, there’s a sense that, while you could close your eyes and swear Kate was in front of you, she effortlessly seems like a performer who is talented in changing her voice and still keeping the range and impact.
An Evening Without Kate Bush balances seamlessly the bridge between a tribute act and a fantastic piece of fringe theatre. With Kate Bush rarely in the public eye, Young’s talent is the closest you will get to a concert by the great moor dancing singer.
One thing I felt I missed this year at Fringe was circus. Not that there wasn’t plenty to see but it was one of those years that it just didn’t come my way. So to be able to see this beautiful piece, N.Ormes was enough to satiate that thirst.
N.Ormes is by a circus duo who aim to break down pre-conceived ideas about bodies and gender. By subtle changes in costume, lighting and the swapping of “roles”, they conduct an acrobatic dance to show the extent to which the body can go, no matter the gender.
The piece is fully mute and so much of the story line and emotion is brought through facial expressions and gestures; we begin with the concept of their love, then the exhaustion of the relationship but as it continues, the physical strength between the two genders projected on stage shows an ever swapping support of one another, physically but also emotionally. There are moments of comedy, nothing laugh out loud, but a smirk or a chuckle on the ordinary interactions of two humans… while it happens mid-air is another matter, however.
The two conduct feats that you can only dream of; being pushed up high by feet, in a sitting position, to only come back to the unusual seat, a seemingly small woman able to lift a tall man by just her head and so much more – we know circus artists are super human but they cleverly do this in a way to juxtapose the norm of what we usually see in a circus show.
The production ends with subtle lighting on their bare torsos while they continue acrobatics and it is just beautiful. The bodies merge into one and we are just left with skin and muscle – no idea the gender or the person. It is quite poignant.
My only negative is that the production felt consistently at one note. I wanted there to be a bit where it sped up or got intense but it didn’t quite reach that change. But none the less, it was certainly art.
N.Ormes is a powerful display of physical exertion with all pre-conceived ideals and gender norms thrown out the window. I just wanted something to break up the steady pace they had set.
Have you ever felt different? Like you don’t fit in? That something is wrong with you?
Das Clarks, with their sterling performer, DAR, take a deep dive into these thoughts and feelings, looking at identity and belonging. By looking at DAR’s life, we see their transition through it and where these questions rose, what they did about it and how they accepted truth.
In the standard Clarks way, this performance has every element of intimacy, pulses of high energy, physical theatre and also gentleness. We are welcomed to the space, a space full of items that represent DAR, to include A LOT of pigeon items (one of my fav). DAR meets with each of us as an old friend, welcoming us and interacting very informally. We are being welcomed into a safe space and our respect in this is paramount to allow the performance to go ahead.
DAR takes us through their life, from items around the room and their meaning, to short stories they have written at poignant parts of life. We see them as they recount their passions and loves which is entirely heartwarming, to the funny and also heart breaking times of trying to fit in as a neurodiverse queer person. While unique to DAR, this is a story many can relate to and resonates deeply.
Audience participation is key and expected, but there is a level of respect and consent in this and it feels warm and inviting. We discuss labels – the good, the bad, the ugly and what they mean. DAR has this very positive approach and so words we would think of negatively, they have a positive spin – it’s an inspiring approach and we take this with gusto.
Then comes the pockets of physicality or level changing, from physical theatre pieces to DAR’s favourite music, spoken word at a fast pace at the mic or a moment of playing the bass. This heightens the performance in theatricality and breaks us a little from the comfortable lull we feel here in DAR’s room with them. The movements are visually stunning, with DAR clearly enjoying themselves and in the moment, pulling faces or closing their eyes to enjoy. They are representative yet abstract, making this a perfect bit of physical interlude.
As always, Das Clarks work is something of inspiration and perfection. It is quintessentially Welsh in its approach, as I always say, that Welsh theatre is something so unique, different and avant-guard. DAR is a brilliant performer and it was a pleasure to go on a journey with them, finding themselves and resonating with many.
We knew, while we were in it, that shows of the future would likely contain elements of the pandemic. I dreaded this, thinking it would likely be the same thing over and over. But boy was I wrong.
Stuffed is a production about food banks – not food. Food Bank workers go through a daily cycle, while verbatim voice overs fill the scene. Using this, they take on different characters and drive the story forward by clowning scenes that are inspired by what is said. Everything gets worse and more chaotic until a crescendo of mess. But there is some light at the end of the tunnel.
We are thrown instantly into the production, with drum and bass music, high energy physical theatre and essentially being shouted at but with an important message: this is nothing new, nothing we haven’t heard before. And yet, this disclaimer still doesn’t prepare us for what’s to come.
There are levels of highs and lows in energy and performance, and this keeps us on the edge of our seat. Dark humour fills each scene, from a visceral scene of a person with guts coming out of them but acting as if it is all okay, to a fight over a crumb, the performers acting with elements of pigeon-like physicality. But with this, a more serious darkness comes and this does well to lull us before driving home the gut punch.
Political commentary on the state of politicians, the police and other elements mix between raw real speech to a clowned and hammed up interpretation: when the man with his guts hanging out is met by the police, they firstly ignore him, see we are watching and then embark on futile attempts to soothe to appease the public. Hilarious but extremely to the point and almost not surprising.
The crescendo is a break down of society, government, life and this is represented in an inferno, a building collapse. What is interesting is the performers already have signs on their costume and make up to suggest this isn’t the first time. It becomes raw and painful and delivers yet another gut punch. It is so powerful.
Stuffed is a must see play. Even if you think food banks have nothing to do with you, they have everything to do with everyone. This production has the perfect levels of comedy to then really smack you in the face with reality and it brings real emotion to you. It’s fun, but painful and so very important.
Rarely have I been in a situation when a review is hard to write because it is such perfection.
I very much booked this on a whim; I saw plenty talking about this, from fringe contemporaries to general public and as a cabaret, burlesque obsessive and millenial who grew up with and watches Shrek on repeat for comfort, I also couldn’t resist.
Most burlesque shows run for a couple of hours, with interval and presenters. But at Fringe, this isn’t an option and actually, the consistant pace the show is forced into just helps with keeping the laughter coming. Not that there is a problem with that in the first place.
As the name suggests, this burlesque show is a satirical take, with drag, burlesque, rude jokes and phenominal singing of Shrek, condensed to one hour with highlight triggers. From pop culture references or if you have just seen Shrek an ungodly amount of time, you’re already speaking the words along with the audio; the surprises and their take on them are all the more funny with extensive knowledge and they have chosen something so brilliant to be creative and get the audience going.
Transitions are smooth and we are thrown in from the start. Innuendo is writhe and the little details to create jokes are well planned and thought out. And the actual skill of the performers is a gold star – they are professional, having fun and extremley talented. I have probably never been to a show when, the next act comes on and i’m laughing at the sheer impressiveness of their choice and conduct or saying “No F***ing way!”. I was entirely engaged and so was every audience member, by the sounds of the cheers, the singing along, the laughter and clapping. It’s a wonder the Assembly Main Hall is still in tact.
Swamplesque is everything I wanted it to be and more. Not a foot wrong, so extremely clever in execution, creation and thought, they were meticulous in their choices and artistic direction and I had THE BEST time. Now to go away and question all my thoughts and feelings…
Tik Tok and social media has taken over our lives. I’ve not escaped this, despite my “I don’t do insta” or “I’ll never go on Tik Tok”… trying to be cool, “old” and against the grain but I caved long ago. And owning it in embarrassment. More only as a voyeur and posting adventures.
Performance artist Louise Orwin takes this concept and runs the other way with it. As a known (at times) controversial artist (and trust when I say that with entire adoration), Orwin looks at her years of life while in her late 30’s and her choices, other’s choices and the world and asks – did she do all of this to be famous? And is it too late to still be famous?
She begins this as an obscure social experiment. Those who do use Tik Tok will instantly recognise the absurdity she conducts as the usual on this platform but others may think she has either lost her mind or doing some avant-garde performance. The former is felt by 800+ people at the time, as we realise she is live on Tik Tok and performing. Some actively say she needs help; some can’t believe what they are seeing; some think she’s an icon; some are blowing her cover and announcing it is a performance. This live, changeable interaction is likely new every night but also likely to be the same sentiments. When she does anything against the community rules of the app, she gets kicked off Tik Tok, all too soon. She was only licking a lollipop! But there’s jeopardy to this approach and anything could happen.
To the side of the stage is a pink haired person on a screen – Jax. Jax comes fom working with Orwin outside of the show and eventually, is her “guru” in all things gen z and Tik Tok. Jax has a huge following and the discourse of how this was achieved is discussed, touching upon how children are sexualised on the app and almost forced to grow up all too quickly. But is it for money? Not really. Recognition? Not really. Fame? Who knows. Orwin balances these thoughts between action on stage, on screens and with a written commentary noting projected at the back on forced performance, and uneasy feelings about her life on the web.
Orwin is frank and open, clear about the complexities in her head but also brings high-level physical theatre to the stage – all live to not only us but random people on an app – and interestingly, after getting kicked off and using another account, simply running on a treadmill racks those likes back up again. Tik Tok is now this bizarre world wide phenomenon that Orwin has been doing on stage for years. Is it competition? Will it make her famous?
With intense spoken word, the physicality and all the existential discussion around the topic, FAMEHUNGRY is entirely captivating. It is thought provoking, perfection and sheer brilliance. And is raising the important questions with no final conclusion at the end – because to go against the grain is to be left behind, but to go with it creates an uncomfortable feeling. What do they decide to do? Just to keep going. Because, what else is there?
Requiem (Cysewski) Immerses us labyrinth of hospital curtains (Brown), and a tinnitus-like soundscape of voices, tones, and reverberating melodies (Orgon). We are led through a constantly shifting space by six performers (Cicolani, Clark, Fedorovykh, Relf, Rust, Tadd) and dynamic lighting (Moore). The proximity of this promenade performance reminds us of our (in)action as we witness abstracted fragments of care, hope, and despair.
Movement, and spoken words occur throughout the space, at times forcing us to make a choice of who, or what to observe. Do we leave someone alone without care? or follow caregivers as they navigate the needs of others and themselves.
The spoken text offers limited insights into the lived experiences of people with learning disabilities under NHS care. Instead we are invited to meditate on touch as a medium for communicating needs, and observe its failure to be understood in tender, emotional vignettes.
Requiem drifts between highlighting the general reduced life expectancy, and the impact of COVID of people with learning disabilities and/or autism. The lack of distinction serves the audience well, allowing us to reflect on our memories and experiences of COVID.
Data on mortality rates is repeated throughout the performance, sometimes spoken aloud, other times whispered into individual audience members’ ears. Both publicly, and personally we are given no room to escape the information, and experiences being shared with us. Each moment is a requiem for those who have died, especially the lives that have been lost early, and avoidably (42%).
Cysewski, and Harris reference data from Learning from Lives and Deaths (LeDeR) in the performance text, and promotional materials. Whilst a knowledge of this research is not essential to understanding Requiem , it grounds the abstracted narrative in an ongoing call for action and change. But it is here that I question the decision to partially excise information on gender differences, and fully omit ethnicity differences from the performance text (and casting). A requiem for the disabled should honour the intersections of identities.
Outside of the Unity festival we see too little inclusive dance work from professional companies in Wales. I hope in the future we will see more, and performances that have disabled people in senior creative roles.
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw