I've been enthusing about this on twitter for so long that I thought I
might as well write a proper blog entry about the ballet I saw last
weekend. I'm not usually a ballet person since for some reason words
tend to do more for me than sounds or pictures. But Krabat is
based on a much-loved children's book by one of my childhood heroes,
Otfried Preußler, who gave us so many unforgettable characters like Räuber Hotzenplotz, Die kleine Hexe, Der kleine Wassermann, and Krabat, which is closer to YA than children's literature, so I thought, why not give it a try?
Based on a Sorbian fairy tale and set in 16th-century Saxony, Krabat is
an orphan who travels the area with a group of other beggar boys, when
he finds himself mysteriously drawn to a mill in a valley, where he
begins an apprenticeship. He soon notices that milling isn't the only
craft he is going to learn at this particular mill and he joins the
other journeymen and apprentices at night, practising Black Magic under
the miller's guidance. The twelve turn themselves into ravens for these
sessions.
Krabat
finds a friend and surrogate brother in Tonda, the senior journeyman,
who shows him the ropes in the mill. On New Year's Eve of Krabat's first
year as an apprentice, however, Tonda dies in an accident, but the
other journeymen stay astonishingly calm about this. The same happens on
New Year's Eve the following year, when another senior apprentice dies.
Krabat realizes that the Master either has to sacrifice one of his
apprentices at the end of the year or his pact with the devil ends and
he has to die himself. The Master usually picks the best of his pupils,
before they become strong enough to challenge him.
Planning revenge for his friends' deaths, Krabat wants to become the
best pupil of them all. Juri, the apparent idiot cook in the mill, warns
Krabat and reveals to him that he will only manage to stay alive by
acting dumb like he himself does. The two of them secretly train
together to challenge the Master at the end of the year, and Juri
discovers that Krabat's love for a girl from the village, Kantorka
(meaning "little chorister" in Sorbian), increases his resistance to
magic.
Kantorka agrees to ask for Krabat's release on New Year's Eve, in the
full knowledge that if she fails the Master's test they both are going
to die. Before they can execute this plan, however, the Master offers
Krabat the inheritance of the mill and of the pact with the devil. Yet
Krabat turns down this offer, as he doesn't want to be responsible for
other people's deaths in order to keep his magical powers.
When Kantorka - whose real name we never get to know - appears on the
night of the challenge, the Master turns all the boys once again into
ravens, blindfolds Kantorka and challenges her to identify her lover
among the birds. Since the apprentices are all fearing for their own
life, while Krabat is the only one fearing for the life of his love, she
is able to tell him apart, the journeymen are all free to leave -
albeit without their magical powers - , and the Master is left to die in
his burning mill.
The fairytale elements of the story already evoke fairly strong visuals,
as any 10-year old who's read the book will tell you. What turns this
production into a complete success is the combination of the strong
design of set and costumes by Katharina Schlipf with Demis Volpi's
choreography that really manages to communicate character and emotion.
The mill consists entirely of high walls of flour sacks and catches the
claustrophobic atmosphere of the Master's realm. They seriously limit
the dancers' space and particularly in the big scenes with all
apprentices present there is hardly enough room for them all to move,
let alone jump, which sometimes feels a shame. What fascinated me most,
though, were the raven costumes. Elongating the dancers' arms to twice
their normal length and fitted with five different kinds of real
feathers as well as synthetic ones, the wings worked incredibly well in
the choreography.
A second lucky idea was the Master's long, black coat. (Yes, Sherlock
fans will see what I mean.) Apart from being absolutely awesome, this
coat was also used to signify the Master's power and position in the
mill. When he offers Krabat to succeed him as miller, he hands over his
coat, and Krabat literally picks up the mantle, tries it on and - in a
long solo dance scene - fights the coat that attempts to take possession
of him.
It
is exactly the economy behind decisions like these that makes the
production so powerful. There are no special effects necessary to evoke
the dark magical world of the mill; music, light, costumes, and
choreography lead the audience through the story of the Sorbian orphan
turned wizard.
One thing I should add is that I was able to see Krabat for free and
open air - the performance was broadcast live from the Opernhaus to the
park in front of it, where the audience could follow the music and
action on a massive LED screen, while tending to their picknicks and
sipping chilled wine. The close-ups of the dancers added considerably to
the experience - one which you can never have up in the gods. So, thank
you, Stuttgarter Ballett im Park - more like this, anytime!
P.S.: There's one point of critique - the depiction of the choir
girls... well, that could have been less stereotypical. If the Master is
eventually defeated by strong women (there's a lengthy magical battle
between him and another Master, who's a proper kick-ass young woman;
plus the devil is female), why stage the choir girls all the time en
point and going through Ballet routines whereas the rest of the cast is
allowed to have a bit of fun?
More info:
On another note, Galley Beggar Press have announced in
their newsletter that they're contemplating a Singles Club subscription,
which I think is a great idea - not at least because I've been talking
about something similar for months now and my secretly hot air balloon-sized ego
still likes its own ideas best. However, such a subscription scheme
might simply prove great for all agents involved: writers see their
shorter texts, including poems, reach an audience they otherwise would probably struggle to attract outside of - let's face it - rather niche specialized magazines; readers get the
opportunity to discover new voices they like without having to comb the net; and publishers are able to
establish a closer relationship with their customers and at the same
time can cut the distribution chain in the case of digital subscriptions - and communicate with people's email inboxes or mobile devices right away.
