Culture Vulture: Jolly Folly
Jolly Folly was the welcome back to the theatre that we all needed. Choreographed by Arielle Smith for the English National Ballet (ENB), the piece graced the stage at Sadlers Wells theatre beside four others works, which had all initially been made for screen. It was an eclectic mix of choreographers — from traditional, Russian ballet choreographer Yuri Possokhov, to bass-thumping, strobe-lighting fanatic and contemporary choreographer Russell Maliphant – but few will argue that Smith’s piece was the star of the show.
As with much of the contemporary dance community, I approached ENB’s show with apprehension. After such a long time without live theatre, I wanted my first experience of it to galvanise and excite me, to be a rousing reminder of all that we’ve been missing, and I was sceptical that ENB could provide that — many of their recent works have felt stale and outdated. But Jolly Folly did not disappoint. It was the perfect antidote to a year of isolation and cultural deprivation.
Art serves many purposes: social comment, thought-provocation, education, exploration, self- expression; but if you peel away the layers, at the core of every cultural experience is entertainment. In Jolly Folly, Smith stripped dance down to its bare bones, and allowed us all to surrender to the basic human desire to be entertained. It did not challenge me; it did not teach me anything; it did not make me think per se; but it made me feel good, which, more than anything else, is what we’re all in need of after the year we’ve just had.
Like much of Smith’s work, Jolly Folly was playful in its nature. In terms of choreographic structure, it wasn’t overly complex, but the value came from its wittiness and undeniable style. The piece was an ode to the era of silent movies. Donning white shirts, black suits and braces, the dancers took on a cartoonish physicality, with stylised walks and comical exaggerations. It was slapstick delivered with real finesse.
Amidst these Chaplin-esque scenes were moments of unbelievable virtuosity and physicality. The dancers went high, and they went low, bounding into the air in box jumps, and rolling dynamically into and out of the space. But rather than presenting these impressive physical feats as the ‘highlights’ (which is often the case in ballet), they were woven seamlessly into the fabric of the piece — of no greater importance than the more nuanced movement.
Fit for the times, Jolly Folly was refreshingly un-gendered. There was little to differentiate the male and female performers — neither costume nor roles — which, too, felt very progressive within the ballet sphere. But deserving of a mention is Alis Bellini. Having watched the show several times, I saw a number of different dancers perform the same solo, but no-one managed to excite quite like her. Bellini’s dynamism was unrivalled and her energy enrapturing, and, despite being small in stature, she dominated the stage.
It’s not uncommon for Smith to use music in her work that everyone will recognise. On this occasion, she opted for the Klazz Brothers and Cuba Percussion’s twists on the iconic classical pieces The Blue Danube Waltz and the Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy. The selection was both a nod to the past, and a nod to Smith’s Cuban roots, with rhythms and grooves that made you want to grab a maraca and join in. The music was energetic and uplifting, familiar yet completely unexpected.
Jolly Folly felt like it was geared towards giving the audience pure, unadulterated pleasure. It produced a sense of escapism that we simply cannot replicate from our sofas, engulfing everyone in a collective joy. Despite Sadlers Wells’ heavily reduced audience capacity and an underwhelming turnout, the energy expended by both performers and audience made the half-empty auditorium feel totally full.
Smith said that her intention was ‘to make you smile’, and she certainly succeeded. Her post-corona comeback was a triumph, and a well-needed reminder of the power of art.