Incident at the start of the performance of the Stuttgarter Ballett in The Hague. “Down with the royal family!” sounded from a side balcony just in front One of a kind began, Jirí Kylián’s choreography ‘about’ the Dutch Constitution. The screamer in question was resolutely caught and taken away. It remained unclear whether he was a rabid republican or an indignant visitor who wanted to enter the hall while King Willem-Alexander and his mother Princess Beatrix were already seated. That is the rule – not enshrined in the constitution, but decreed by the security services.
Kylián created the ballet, one of his few full-length works, 25 years ago for ‘his’ Nederlands Dans Theater on behalf of the Dutch government in the context of the 150th anniversary of the constitution. A fascinating document, he thought, especially Article 1, which formulated the fundamental rights of and respect for the individual. The triptych One of a kind depicts in choreographic calligraphy strokes one individual’s journey through life, which is a constant stream of encounters with other individuals, something that requires the ability to constantly adapt.
Gangway
Appropriately, this woman’s journey begins among the audience. She cautiously enters the stage from the front row via a gangway. Searching an angular path, she moves with slow movements that sometimes accelerate with sudden impulses of flashing limbs or tremors. The first confrontations with others are still difficult and stiff, with agitated gestures. In the soundscape (a collage with compositions by Brett Dean and Cage, Britten, among others) you can hear grinding, machine sounds and cellist Francis Gouton also touches dissonances live on stage.
In four large duets, the dancers slowly find ways to move with and around each other, to follow each other’s forms, to find openings, with Gesualdo’s ingenious polyphonic vocals as a musical counterpart. A striking element in the second part is the enormous cone that rotates above the stage (the magnificent set design is by Atsushi Kitagawara), thus causing an ever-changing lighting and spatial impression. On the floor it is a feverish back and forth of the dancers (21 in total) in alternating duets, short double duets and other group dances full of individuals brushing past each other, perfectly timed.
In part three, the large black three-part staircase seems to suggest a path to elevation and freedom. An ideal that disappears behind a curtain of shining threads. Finally, the dancer who rose from the audience 70 minutes earlier takes cautious steps on the first steps.
The performance by the Stuttgarter Ballett, the company where the now 76-year-old Kylián found shelter after his flight from Czechoslovakia in 1968 and created his first choreographies, is without a doubt excellent. The ‘house style’ of the Stuttgarter classic is unmistakably different from that of the Nederlands Dans Theater; they are details in body tension, ‘juiciness’, suppleness and suspension. That’s why the performance is no less good, just interesting. A nice side effect is the fact that with this performance by his former employer, says Kylián, one of the circles in his life is closing. And in a very beautiful way.