Meso-srca-kvadratmeso srca naslovka 2

HEARTMEAT

     
Premiere 29. 10. 2015

SNT Opera and Ballet Ljubljana

50 min

 

Choreography

 

 

Gregor Luštek

in Rosana Hribar 

Conductor

 

Živa Ploj Peršuh

Dramaturgy and

light. design 

 

Jaša Koceli

 

Set design 

 

  Darjan Mihajlović Cerar 
Costume design   

Branka Pavlič  

 

Doll made by   Žiga Lebar
     
     
          Cast: 

Dancers:

Rita Pollacchi, Tjaša Kmetec,

Regina Križaj,Kristina Aleksova,

Georgeta Capraroiu, Sorina Dimache,

Nina Noč, Urša Vidmar, Polett Kasza,

Mariša Nač, Chie Kato, Marin Ino,

Elli Purkunen, Barbara Marič,

Barbara Potokar, Monika Dedović,

Enisa Hodžić, Irena Kloboves,

Romana Kmetič, Olga Kori,

Tasja Šarler, Petar Đorčevski,

Yuki Seki, Lukas Zuschlag,

Kenta Yamamoto, Luka Žiher,

Filippo Jorio, Hugo Mbeng,

Yujin Muraishi, Michele Pellegrini,

Cosmin Agavriloaei, Iulian Ermalai,

Tomaž Horvat, Ivan Greguš,

Gaj Rudolf, Goran Tatar,Filip Viljušić

String quartet: 

Igor Grasselli, I. violina

Rahela Grasselli, II. violina

Ana Glišić, viola

Damir Hamidullin, violončelo

Piano:

Marjan Peternel

Opera singers:

Norina Radovan / Galja Gorčeva

Rebeka Radovan / Zdenka Gorenc

 

       
ABOUT THE FLESH AND A RUNAWAY HEART
This is a story about the story
 
There’s a Puppet in Every Body
Although ballet dancers are not marionettes, they are bearing their structure. Is a marionette a ballet dancer deprived of flesh? Or is a ballerina a marionette deprived of wood? The body dreams its eternal dream of being boundless and capable of rising up to the sky. It dreams about being timeless and never going to decay. It is that flexible and sculpted body, so much admired by ballet. You came to watch the marionettes with hearts – they fall to pieces over time, yet they always remain beautiful and incomprehensible.
 
We are that Machine
The dancers’ movements are emerging out of the darkness; the mechanics of power. The power of energy. The outlines of figures fuse into a throng of quick, pulsing and trembling bodies that are dancing Bolero. Keeping their attention at fool stretch they are  closing the circle of endless movement …  from the beginning to … the beginning.
 
The Promise of Illusion
The abstract motor of dance pours  out, cut by the pathos of feelings, quoting  a stunning event. La vita é bella, but her  gaze, her gaze is uncatchable. Her beauty  is incomprehensible. They both live in the  theatre, yet their gazes have never leaned  on each other. There is music and there  is singing. There is a boat and there is  Venice! Bongiorno, principessa!
 
You, my Shadow and my Purpose
It is you I chase, the poison of my  heart. The deer of my fantasies, the shiny  peak of beauty. Forgive me, I shall never call you by your gilded names again, if  only you let me, let me at least once, hold  your elbow and blow into the nape of  your neck. Let me smell your nearness,
take it to my heart, and never lose it  again.
 
The Exhaled Body
We are throwing ourselves a most  glorious ball. All the music is ours. We are  using all the famous ballet gestures; we  are thickening and breathing them. We  are talking with our bodies, liaising with  an invisible thread of energy. Together  we will be one body, the body of bodies,
broken to pieces and put back together  again.
 
We are together but for a Moment
The bodies are falling in and out of  themselves. It feels as if they are pouring  from one into another. There come two  dancers, followed by two more, then  there are another three, then there is  Chaos. Then there is a fall, a sudden  breath and some new bodies, coming in  again. They are burning. Their rotation  is seemingly uncontrolled, but precise, inexorable, virtuosic. Their flow is inevitably cruel.
 
Our Bodies are our Walls
When we can’t do it any more, we laugh. We laugh at all the torn muscles, bruised knees, unwiped tears and never accomplished flights. We laugh at the end and at the parting from the lights. We laugh at the inevitable.
 
To the Echo of the Vanishing Movement
We dream of virtuosity, with which ballet dancers become Apollo’s angels and then crash back to the Earth. There’s only dance, only dance that raises us to the Depth.

 

 

 



Photo: Darja Štravs Tisu

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Promo video: Jaša Koceli

 

 


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