As a dedicated gamer and long-time ballet enthusiast, I was captivated by the documentary “Swan Song,” following Karen Kain’s journey to direct a modern interpretation of Swan Lake in her final year at the National Ballet of Canada. Having grown up watching Kain’s performances and admiring her illustrious career, I found myself deeply invested in this poignant portrayal of her determination to leave a lasting impact on the company she once graced as a prima ballerina.
A few years ago, as she prepared to retire from her position as artistic director of the National Ballet of Canada, Karen Kain felt drawn to directing a new production. She expressed this desire at the beginning of the documentary “Swan Song” by stating, “I felt we required a fresh take on ‘Swan Lake,’ and I determined I would summon the courage to give it a try.” Kain, who was once a renowned ballerina, honed her skills at NBC and made her debut as Swan Queen in their 1971 production. She went on to be influenced by the legendary Soviet dancer and choreographer Rudolf Nureyev, whose guidance played a significant role in her career success. Kain’s accomplishments extended beyond Canada’s borders, earning her widespread recognition and even earning her the nickname “Canada’s Princess Diana” among her admirers. Andy Warhol also created an iconic portrait of her.
Chelsea McMullan’s documentary, “Swan Song,” chronicles Kain’s determination to stage “Swan Lake” at the National Ballet of Canada as she approaches retirement. However, the COVID-19 pandemic compelled the company to postpone the production three months before its scheduled opening in 2020. Acknowledging this hurdle, McMullan’s documentary begins two years later, just eight weeks prior to their debut. With the pressure mounting on both Kain and the dancers, they work diligently to bring an innovative and contemporary rendition of Tchaikovsky’s classic ballet to life while attempting to recoup some financial losses from the pandemic’s early stages.
As a passionate fan, I’ve been blown away by the complexity of Swan Song and it comes as no surprise that this captivating feature was accompanied by a four-part docuseries which premiered in Canada last fall. With the pandemic extending McMullan’s production timeline, her team was granted an unprecedented two-year immersion into the company. While Swan Song provides a glimpse into this extensive investment, it only scratches the surface of the wealth of information gathered, the profound emotions felt, and the compelling experiences captured.
McMullan’s documentary provides a glimpse into the intricate, dramatic, and at times tense environment of the National Canadian Ballet. The physical, emotional, and mental strength demanded from the dancers is evident from the start, as we meet Jurgita Dronina, a determined Russian-Lithuanian dancer with a warm smile. She outlines the company’s structure, consisting of the corps de ballet, soloists, and principal dancers like herself. In this initial segment of “Swan Song,” McMullan introduces Shaelynn Estradra, a corps de ballet member from Texas, whose working-class background and mental health challenges sometimes clash with her aspiration to become a leading ballerina. At one point in the documentary, Estradra reflects on ballet as both an inspiring “angel” and a demanding “demon.” The testimonies of Kain, Dronina, Estradra, and other interviewees collectively paint a compelling picture of the past, present, and future of contemporary ballet.
McMullan enhances Kain’s narratives about the past by incorporating archival footage of her dancing Swan Lake in her own productions, along with interviews from dance experts Seika Boye and Paula Citron. Boye discusses the significance of various aspects within Swan Lake, such as the vital role of the corps de ballet. She also explores the underlying issues and history of exclusion in ballet. One major conflict in Swan Song arises due to Kain’s choice not to wear tights with the corps dancers. The artistic director recognizes the historical significance of white tights, but believes that revealing their bare legs will give the performance a more modern feel.
Tasked with bringing Kain’s vision to life is choreographer Robert Binet, a patient and steady figure throughout the documentary. He corrects the corps dancers, reminding them when they must move faster to keep in time with the music, and challenges Kain with a similar kind of gentle but firm command. He navigates, with admirable grace, the task of marrying a director’s vision and her dancers’ abilities. Binet’s emotional support can be felt in nearly every scene of Swan Song, from scanning the ensemble during rehearsals to reassuring individual dancers in private conversations.
In the climax of “Swan Song,” McMullen and his skilled cinematographers Tess Girard and Shady Hanna, capture the palpable excitement backstage. They immerse themselves in the lively banter of the crowd and the dancers preparing with heavy makeup and hairspray. Mills’ editing becomes more vibrant in these scenes, reflecting the eerie atmosphere similar to “Quickening,” a movie exploring dance’s grueling aspects.
During a Swan Song performance, the energy on stage is palpable. The camera focuses on the dancers, allowing us to witness their dedication: droplets of sweat forming on their foreheads, muscles straining as they soar through the air and touch down gracefully. Observing these agile figures pirouette across the stage brought back memories of Kain’s initial longing, her motivation that shaped her path. Growing weary of staged interpretations of Swan Lake, she resolved to leave the troupe with a profound emotional farewell. “I yearn for emotion,” she declared. “Remember, this is theater; I want to be moved to tears.” And indeed, there wasn’t a dry eye in the audience that evening.
Read More
Sorry. No data so far.
2024-07-26 09:54