Bleak adaptations of ballet classics are somewhat of a ballet trend at present, with Matthew Bourne’s gothic Sleeping Beauty playing to sell out audiences over Christmas in London and Scottish Ballet successfully reworking Arthur Saint-Léon’s 1870 ballet, Coppélia, at the Edinburgh Festival. Hélène Blackburn now also premieres an interpretation of the familiar story of a living doll for Ballett am Rhein, but the outcome does not feel fully realised in this disjointed evening.
Described as a work that seeks to reduce the story to an open narrative, perhaps Blackburn’s intention was to leave some elements to the imagination but too much of Coppélia X Machina is impenetrable. There are fragments of ideas and snatches of stories, alongside Ana Sokolović’s tension building score, but overall the audience need more to work with if they are to invest in the characters.
There is a clearer sense of narrative in an engaging first act. A featureless body falls from the sky. She, it transpires, will be Coppélius’ (Niklas Jendrics) plaything. This 'doll' is lifeless and limp and we see her manipulated into various contortions and positions like plasticine. The flesh coloured bodysuit that covers everything including her head suggests she is a blank canvas, the only visible feature a human heart promising that she will be some kind of robot-woman hybrid.
The stage is otherwise busy with Coppélius' other amusements. He inhabits a public square where the corps de ballet alternate between representing the human world and his workshop, in which they are mere machines. They fizz, tremble, grunt and strain, their faces working as hard as their bodies in shiny white, futuristic outfits, contrasting with their creator wearing black linens.
Blackburn’s choreography is demanding with the corps often paired up to denote maker and machine. There is a vocabulary of jarring, angular movements, repeated motifs and whirring arms which is initially dizzying but later repetitive and overly distracting.
Our next generation Coppélia (Wun Sze Chan) is now ready for her public debut. Petite in stature, she packs a punch, serving up the decisive, athletic brand of choreography with spiky attack and rigour. She initially blends in and learns to emulate the other robot beings without too much consternation as she is pursued by the visibly human and curiously-minded Franz (Orazio Di Bella). However, they are not permitted interaction without the surveillance of Jendric’s soullessly sadistic Coppélius’, a perennial lurker. Then, out of nowhere a stilt-walking robot emerges amongst dry ice. Is he a decoy? A threat? We don’t know.
Act II picks up from this point but the absence of a plot means the roaming of the lofty gladiatorial figures goes on too long. Eventually the full corps of dancers unite, in ribbed leotards, as angular as the choreography. They bourrée in various patterns and formations, some of the men braving the pointe work too, while others stick to socks.
Later, we are finally treated to a brief, uninhibited pas de deux from the central pair. Whether they are still Coppélia and Franz, or a nameless 'him' and 'her' for the first time, Di Bella and Chun take each other’s hand and they dance choreography which shows them slowly begin to soften; arms undulate and attractive arabesques are held in suspended time. For a moment, they are melting and there is a feeling the audience can finally warm to them.
It doesn’t last long however. Coppélius rounds up his squad who pace side-to-side in repeated rhythms, slowly gathering momentum before Sokolović’s score builds to a nervy cacophony. They are formidable, aggressive, as if preparing for battle, while the half human pair are merged into this mechanical crowd.
Blackburn’s retelling suggests a broad conclusion for Coppélia and Franz. Having sought to retain only the essential elements, the brief is perhaps overachieved here. The overlong, plotless segments, unattractive motifs and clunky scene changes restrict the chance of escapism, when the audience wants more from this love story, robots or not.
