JEUX and A CHILD’S TALE

Review by Celia Ipiotis

Games figure in ballets for many reasons: Relationships can be fluid between genders and games adhere to familiar structures. 

Interested in producing a ballet centered on 3 gay men, Diaghilev commissioned Debussy to write the score and Nijinsky to choreograph Jeux in 1913, one year before World War I or The Great War. Ultimately, Jeux side-stepped the homosexual representation and opted instead for two flirtatious females and one male playing tennis. 

Interested in revisiting Jeux, Christopher Williams reimagines the ballet in its original format, employing 3 men, two in shorts and one in a tennis dress (costumes by Reid & Harriet Design and Andrew Jordan). 

Balls bounce in and out of view and mini tennis rackets whip in the air over bouncy turns and frisky skips. The trio joins arms, toss each other in the air and sashay around. In a nod to Nijinsky’s two dimensional presentation of people reminiscent of Egyptian or Cretan statues “in relief.” 

A constant tension is established as the trio splits into duets interrupted by the odd man out. Although there’s nothing overtly sexual about their encounters, familiarity resounds in the way they touch hands, wrap arounds around each other’s waists, and knowingly smile at one another.

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang. Lights flutter on and off (designed by Tei Blow) and a blizzard of tennis balls pummel the stage. Whether it’s a blast nodding to the portending disruption due to World War I, or a reference to an original idea of a plane crash ending the trio’s activities, no one is certain. But in the aftermath, 3 more dancers appear, this time 3 women join and the ballet repeats. The additional dancers automatically add a widening complexity to the patterns and intermingling bodies. Williams infuses the work with wit and choreographic clarity.

After a brief pause, Williams’ Childs Tale opens on dancers in traditional Slavic attire  also designed by Reid & Harriet. Dancers travel through a brighter atmosphere (lighting by Joe Levasseur) to a score by Anatoly Lyadov. Again, humor enhances what resembles a folk tale of rural Russians engaged in daily events made more fantastical by the emergence of Kikimora, a house spirit and Baba Yaga, a sorceress resembling a chicken by virtue of a chicken head and spindly legs. 

A young bride bubbles with eagerness before a tragic incident. She is rejuvenated after locating a  foundling boy who cavorts and pounces on all fours. Like so many folk tales, spirits circle humans allowing mystical revelations to surface and change lives. 

Throughout the tale of loss and recovery, the dancers move in groupings reminiscent of Eastern Orthodox icons or more directly, Bronislava Njinska’s Les Noces. Couples hunch together while villagers communing in  strong geometric patterns shuffling feet, moving them in unison and ultimately in a group circle. 

Broken into 8 sections to 8 Russian folk songs, A Child’s Tale captures the traditional folk dance styles central to Russian ballet training.

Full of joy and tragedy, A Child’s Tale emerges encased in earthy dances that tread on the earth and pitch the body in opposition to the feet, upwards to the heavens.

EYE ON THE ARTS, NY — Celia Ipiotis

*Photos by Maria Baranova