SANDRA PRINSLOO IN SEARCH OF PERFECTION IN TERRENCE MCNALLY’S MASTER CLASS

DIANE DE BEER reviews:

MASTER CLASS by Terrence McNally

Director: Magdalene Minnaar

Cast: Sandra Prinsloo, Alida Scheepers, Brittany Smith, Tylor Lamani and José Dias

Venue: Montecasino’s Pieter Toerien Theatre

Dates: Until April 2

THIS is Sandra Prinsloo’s time.

Having recently seen her performance in Florian Zeller’s Moeder and now this revival of Master Class as Maria Callas in a mentorship rather than singing role, her range is astounding. For the past few years, she has been touring mainly in solo shows and it’s been a joy to have her back with ensemble casts, still reigning supreme.

If you’re expecting a Callas double, you will be disappointed, it’s not that kind of performance even though there are hints and gestures to pay homage. 

This one’s all about the process, how to become an artist and if you’re blessed by the theatre gods, you’re shown the finer points by La Divina. That’s where the focus lies, in the script and the performances.

Prinsloo turns into the fading yet never diminished star in front of your eyes. With a voice that’s dropped an octave, an attitude that displays both wisdom and wit and an accent to add to the theatricality of the piece, you’re swept into this world.

Alida Scheepers with Aandra Prinsloo in Master Class.

McNally cleverly fashioned a play that’s as much about becoming an artist as being on stage, and then he centred it around one of the world’s most dramatic divas, one who seemingly turns a master class into something that’s as much about her as it is about the students.

But in the process, she reveals as much about the artist as she does about the woman. Even at that time when social media wasn’t yet part of the publicity machine, the great ones couldn’t find anywhere to hide. Perhaps at a much slower pace, but eventually the stories would come out. This is why the reminders of her and Ari Onassis’s turbulent love life have impact.

And even if all of this adds flashy flesh to the McNally text, at its heart, it is a treatise on  the making of a true artist. All the other shenanigans, as Callas implies, are mere sideshows. But you have to pay attention to making an entrance, having a look, to understanding and investing in every word you sing and more. Everything comes together in a performance that will have you holding the audience’s attention, which is exactly what Prinsloo does in the persona of Callas as she chastises her young students when they perform with what she perceives as too much charisma and not enough care.

Master Class with Sandra Prinsloo and Tylor Lamani.

They hardly have the chance to utter a note before she destroys what might have been the smallest sign of an ego with shattering disapproval and a sharp gesture to underline her disdain. And then comes the command to sing again. Those who can’t stand the pressure are bitingly rebuked and if they still have any aspiration left, the performance is less assured.

The supporting cast, from José Dias (also musical direction) as the unperturbed répétiteur to the three courageous singers brave enough to face the harsh sometimes hysterical disdain of the tempestuous tutor, are a good foil with McNally introducing a dash of diversity with a trio of types from the nervous ingénue (Scheepers) to the self-assured poseur (Smith) and the cheeky, almost dismissive tenor (Lamani). Their singing is another highlight of the performance.

Master Class with Sandra Prinsloo and Brittany Smith.

I wasn’t sure of the flashing way the memory reels of Maria and Ari were introduced and found it quite disruptive. Perhaps loadshedding also had an impact. And perhaps Callas and Prinsloo would have been better served in another costume, one more suited to a master class.

But in the end, Prinsloo’s performance is the one that stuck as she made sure that the way Callas served her art was always at the forefront of her performance. Talent is obviously the X factor of great artists, but without blood, sweat and tears and an unwavering and selfish dedication to your art, few will achieve the ultimate prize.

That’s what Callas knew and delivered both on and off stage and what McNally so masterfully captures in Master Class with Prinsloo persistently reaching for perfection.

For bookings: https://www.webtickets.co.za/v2/Event.aspx?itemid=1524418851

JOBURG BALLET KEEPS THE DANCE DIALOGUES ALIVE WITH CREATIVELY MOVING CONVERSATIONS

PICTURES: Lauge Sorensen

The dance conversation starts tomorrow at the Joburg Theatre with Joburg Ballet’s triple bill of ballets new to the company’s mainstream repertoire. Titled Dialogues, two dancers were invited to choreograph two new works while a third, Bruno Miranda, will stage the 1896 ballet Bluebeard Grand Pas

Bruno Miranda with the cast for the 1896 ballet Bluebeard Grand Pas

described as a glittering showcase for dancing in ballet’s finest classical tradition. Artistic director Iain MacDonald believes the programme exposes dancers and audiences to the diversity and versatility of the company. DIANE DE BEER talks to Joburg Ballet dancer Chloé Blair who has been invited to expand Table for Two (part of Joburg Ballet’s RAW programme for new choreographers in 2021) for this first season of 2023 and Roseline Wilkens of Vuyani Dance Theatre with her first for Joburg Ballet entitled Identity:

Revil Yon (above) and Bruno Miranda in Table for Two.

“My choreography philosophy comes from the extreme passion and love that I have for dancing, specifically ballet. I find dancing to be one of the most humble ways to tell a story as it’s very understated as opposed to other art forms, like singing or acting which are maybe more out there or confrontational in some way.”

Chloé Blair believes that dance is so special because it asks the audience to look at body language and interpret it for themselves and then to connect this body language to their own feelings in a way that’s not really conscious.

When she starts working on a piece, there’s her emotional response to music, which is always the starting point. “I find that music allows me to process ideas and memories and thoughts and there’s a lot of time that I spend by myself just listening to movie scores, orchestral music, classical music and just letting my mind wander into specific situations.”

In this instance she was sitting at the dining room table with a friend listening to music they both loved called Table for Two. It’s music she loves and she started thinking about how much of our relationships happen around a table: we celebrate, we eat together, we toast one another, we have fights, she says. “And I thought that would be such an interesting way to centre a specific relationship story. From there I took some of my own memories and own experiences I had which all felt quite universal.”

As a classical ballet dancer, it influences her choreography because it forces her to pay attention to the detail of body language. “In my dance life I’m bound to a classical repertoire, which has a very solid structure. The things that convey emotion are often in the detail, like a look, a head movement, the use of the fingers or a touch, detail orientated when it comes to body language, interpretation.” She tried to use that in the piece, to capture those detailed moments, the difference between emotions by using specific body language. “Being a classical dancer, the dance is very structured and I enjoy that. You find freedom in that structure.”

But after the initial discovery of the narrative, she finds music – which, incidentally, is not usually the music she has used to develop her narrative. “The music which I finally use for the piece, is something different which marries not just the feeling of the narrative, but the structure as well.

Excited to rework the piece, she is also intimidated because to expand everything would be quite a challenge.  “I expanded the cast, because the first time it was just two men, but this time round there was a whole corps de ballet.  I used the extra dancers as a tool to tell the story, giving a lot more thought to formations, movement and how to incorporate this into the structure,” she notes.

Using two men as main characters was determined by a desire for the relationship to be very interpretive. “I wanted the audience to view it as either a friendship, a romantic relationship, or a family dynamic without specifically dictating it,” she says.  She also loves working with men, because they bring an energy and a freedom of movement which is very inspiring to work with.

Her narrative and thus choreography tells a story of how changes in thought and changes in feeling lead to changes in the dynamic between the two of them. While Table for Two follows one character’s narrative, she wanted to show a relationship in multi-dimensional way, not always as so often seen from our own perspective.

Identity choreographed by Roseline Wilkens

What Roseline Wilkens hopes to achieve with Identity is for the self to be comfortable in its own skin. She strongly believes that everything happens for a reason. “My identity was formed by my life stories. All the work I have created is very personal.”

It deals with the journeys she has made, things that have happened to her, and things that have formed her as the person she is today. “But things still keep happening and shaping my character,” she emphasises. “Whoever I meet, whether the person stays in my life or leaves, there’s always something that keeps forming you.”

But, importantly, she also holds onto her roots and where she came from, not forgetting what she stands for. She embraces change and carefully dissects wat she incorporates into her life and what she lets go. “That’s what identity is all about, finding your true self,” she says.

She was surprised by how much the dancers understood the storyline she presented them with. “It was more than I thought they would because it came from a personal perspective,” she explains. “Dealing with identity, everything had to be honest about some life-changing event.

She usually works in the field of African contemporary, sometimes classical and it would have been easier working with dancers she has worked with on a daily basis However, it was surprising working with classical contemporary ballerinas. “It was interesting how we influenced one another and the work. It came together as they made it their own and gave it their own flavour. I didn’t come with any expectations, so it was a work in progress and a work together.”

Having created the music in collaboration with Isaac Molelekoa, she doesn’t see herself as a composer, but she loves sound and working with what she feels. “I created the music with my own beats which was then transcribed as sheet music by my collaborator.” She feels blessed by this partnership which has been worked at through the years. “He gives life to the craziness in my head and the sounds I make during rehearsals.”

She doesn’t have to use any other sounds or music and this for her, truly represents her identity. “I chose the title, because it is about becoming one with self, learning to start over, relearning yourself in every way possible which means growth. I am in tune with myself,” she aptly concludes.

Joburg Ballet 2023 seasons at a glance:

Dialogues (Joburg Theatre): Friday 17 March – Sunday 26 March

Romeo and Juliet (Joburg Theatre): Friday 30 June – Sunday 9 July

La Traviata-The Ballet (Baxter Theatre, Cape Town): Wednesday 26 July – Saturday 29 July

Don Quixote (Joburg Theatre): Friday 29 September – Sunday 8 October

Dialogues: Booking Information

Standard Ticket Prices:

R475, R410, R375, R275, R200 (applicable to all performances except Wednesday 22 March for which all tickets are R100)
Discounts:

Friends of the Ballet 35%; Pensioners 15%; Groups of 10+ 10%; Children 4-7 50%
Where:

Joburg Theatre, Braamfontein
Book:

At Joburg Theatre Box Office or 0861 670 670 or online at www.joburgtheatre.com

Patrons can also book and pay via the Nedbank app and at selected Pick ‘n Pay stores.

THEATREMAKER/WRITER DIANNE DU TOIT ALBERTZE COURAGEOUSLY SPEAKS HER MIND

From the title of the book bottelnel breek bek, the warning signs are there — this is not going to be an easy read.

But because I have been following Dianne du Toit Albertze’s career for a long time, I knew this would be worth the battle.

In a digital interview, she tells me that the story found her rather than her discovering what she wanted to write about. “I needed to write about people who were braver than me because it was Covid and I needed something to save me,” she says.

That’s where she found Dora and Whashiela, who came with their own heaven-sent gifts. And their strong appearance was probably driven by the fact that “as a trans person, I don’t find many heroines in the books I read. I also don’t see them at festivals or on television. Especially not in my mother tongue,” she notes.

In her own way, she wanted to show Afrikaanse moffies that they shouldn’t let go of their dreams  —  “Moenie jou tong oppie highway verkoop nie” is how she says it bluntly and beautifully. “Nancy is waiting, we need to make and take our own space.”

Feeling and querying whether this is a very personal tale, she acknowledges that first novels are probably always close to the bone. “I wanted to push my high heels through the literary door with a story that feels close to me. I wanted to go as close to the edge as I could and much method writing followed,” she says. “I learnt about everything I wrote about and didn’t want to be a faker.

Dianne Du Toit Albertze
Picture: Peter van Noord.

“Perhaps I listen to too much Tupac or hide too easily behind my pen … because the book also helped me recover from a poisonous addiction. Every day without drugs is a BIG day. And hopefully this full-frontal writing of mine will mean something to someone out there.”

We all know about method acting and what that has done to those taking it too far, and if you read the book without the hairs on your arms standing on edge you’re possibly not paying attention.

This is an artist who takes her art seriously and even if it meant she climbed a steep mountain with the language, it is what adds authenticity and soul to the characters and story.

“I wouldn’t have been true to my characters if they spoke the language of dubbed Turkish soapies,” explains Dianne about her choices. And acknowledges that she wanted to honour the colourful language of the trans community in Observatory and Matjieskloof. “A variant like Gayle (created by the  queer coloured community in Cape Town) even has its own accents in specific regions.”

 And then she’s not even referring to Sabela (a language flounced together from numerous local languages in local prisons for gangs to communicate) or those creative Cape expressions we’re all familiar with. This is completely different yet with distinct similarities – an anomaly in itself.

Dianne du Toit Albertze striking a pose.

“I’ve always been fascinated by linguistics – to create different codes and to learn different expressions and idioms.”

On a language level, she embroiders, the tongues of the different characters metaphorically reflect their life paths – also pushed out and teetering on the periphery. “Those of us who have for so long been hiding in the shadows should move into the light and speak loudly.” Another incentive for telling her story the way she does – letting it all hang out … bravely.

Amen, say I, having read the book and also revelling in this particular interview/conversation, which was a written rather than a spoken one. “Steve Biko says I write what I like and perhaps I agree with him,” notes Dianne. “I write about shit that matters to me and what I believe will interest a broader audience.”

She also hopes that a trans child might read the book and realise that they too matter, perhaps influenced by her own struggles and lack of support.

For the writer personally, she has many dreams and desires: a musical, Medea in Namakwaland, staged in-between the koppies; and to write a few movie scripts. These are on the cards.

For her, writing plays is like breathing in and out. She’s been doing that from a very young age right through her drama studies. “Poetry and prose come from there, but to write for stage is my big love,” she says.

As for her activist stance, she took her queue from the Sestigers (a moniker for a group of dissident Afrikaans writers, including Breyten Breytenbach, André Brink, Ingrid Jonker, Elsa Joubert, Jan Rabie and Etienne le Roux) who believed that words carry weight and that we need the arts and artists to be our conscience.  
This would mean, to her mind, stories that free us from what is becoming a hopeless land with steadily growing layers and levels of suffering.

In the meantime she is working with actor/director Lee-Ann van Rooy on a season of her text Kaap, which was performed at the 2020 NATi Jong Sterre Suidoosterfees . And with her Namakwaland trans sisters, she is busy creating an NGO House of Influence with which they hope to establish safe houses as well as perform community theatre.

She’s a busy woman but for those of us lucky enough to witness her creativity, moving on the edges as she does, she draws a curtain on a hidden yet important world.

This is what makes our universe an interesting one. People are allowed if not encouraged to be themselves and for those who are open to the diversity and differences, it establishes a never-ending stage of wonder, wisdom and, of course, a wackiness without which life would be so much poorer and less colourful.

And as Dianne is so determined to bring to our attention, real people are living here.