Cathy Marston, a celebrated choreographer known for her literary and biographical ballets, discusses her latest creations, The Cellist and Mrs. Robinson, in this insightful interview. Marston delves into the inspirations, creative processes, and thematic explorations behind these two distinct yet equally compelling works, offering a glimpse into her unique approach to narrative ballet.
In anticipation of the premieres of The Cellist for The Royal Ballet and Mrs. Robinson for San Francisco Ballet in early 2020, Marston sat down to discuss the genesis and development of these pieces. The Cellist, premiering on February 17, 2020, at the Royal Opera House, is a poignant exploration of the relationship between cellist Jacqueline du Pré and her instrument. Mrs. Robinson, premiering on March 24, 2020, at the San Francisco Ballet, offers a fresh perspective on the iconic character from The Graduate.
JP: The Cellist is about Jacqueline du Pré – is it biographical?
CM: It’s called The Cellist – a deliberate step back. It’s not about Jacqueline du Pré’s private life; I didn’t want to go there. What I wanted to focus on was the relationship between Jackie and her cello. It’s a love story of love and loss between her and her object – her instrument, her voice, her identity, in a way. She’s a young girl who finds her talent, falls in love through that talent, then loses it. I look at the impact that has on her and the people around her – her husband Daniel Barenboim, her mother, her sister Hilary – as well as her instrument. This ballet explores the profound connection between an artist and their art, focusing on the emotional and artistic journey of du Pré rather than biographical details.
How do you show the effect on her cello?
I’m imagining how an inanimate object can hold emotion – something that feels and gives love. A cello is close to being human in terms of its shape and its sound. It’s her friend and companion, with her most of the time. She travels with it, buys it an airplane seat next to her. There’s no actual cello on stage – it’s a person: Marcelino Sambé or Calvin Richardson. The concept of a human cello came to Marston during her work on Dangerous Liaisons for the Royal Danish Ballet. Not wanting to use a prop cello for a music lesson scene, she asked a dancer to embody the instrument. This sparked the idea for a “Cello Ballet,” a piece centered on the relationship between a musician and their instrument, rather than a conventional love story. Her sister’s suggestion of Jacqueline du Pré further solidified the concept, although Marston clarifies that the ballet is not directly inspired by her mother’s experience with multiple sclerosis, despite its parallel to du Pré’s illness.
Matthew Ball, Marcelino Sambe and Lauren Cuthbertson rehearsing The Cellist.© Gavin Smart. (Click image for larger version)
Alt text: Rehearsal for The Cellist ballet featuring Matthew Ball, Marcelino Sambe, and Lauren Cuthbertson, highlighting the human representation of the cello.
So how does a human cello work?
The dancer is the instrument and music personified, and to some extent, fate. He is timeless, antique, so he guides the young girl. He’s the musical force that brings Jackie and Daniel Barenboim together. He knows what love is because he’s experienced it before, with other musicians, and he knows she is special. The human cello serves multiple roles: instrument, musical essence, and even a guiding force. This personified cello becomes a central figure, influencing du Pré’s life and relationships, particularly her connection with Daniel Barenboim. It’s a representation of the deep, almost sentient bond between a musician and their instrument.
And the music – do you use her recordings?
No, though it was important to have some of her repertoire in the ballet in a recognisable form, not in coded quotations. So I asked Philip Feeney (with whom I’d done Jane Eyre) to include some of her pieces in a new score. But what to do about the Elgar cello concerto, so redolent of her? We’d finished the score last summer, excluding the Elgar, but I changed my mind. My gut instinct was to have it there, with Barenboim conducting her – which he didn’t, but he gave me his agreement. Philip generously agreed to rewrite, so we pushed back the deadline. Instead of directly using du Pré’s recordings, Marston opted for a new score by Philip Feeney, who also collaborated with her on Jane Eyre. The score incorporates recognizable elements of du Pré’s repertoire, including the iconic Elgar cello concerto. Initially excluded, Marston’s strong instinct led to its inclusion, with Barenboim’s approval and Feeney’s willingness to revise the score, demonstrating the importance of capturing the essence of du Pré’s musical legacy.
How do you deal with the MS, which she had for 14 years before she died in 1987?
I spoke to people with the experience of having MS, including my mother, and one of the things I gleaned is the awfulness of not knowing what is going wrong with your body before the diagnosis. The pressure on Jackie was huge, and at one point, she broke down and took herself back to her family as refuge. I don’t go into her private life, except to show how she had to face a cycle of doctors as her symptoms came and went. The corps express what she is experiencing physically through dance motifs. I chose not to bring a wheelchair onto the stage but to have her carried instead as she remembers her youth – and her cello. Marston approached the sensitive topic of du Pré’s multiple sclerosis by focusing on the physical and emotional experience of the illness, rather than biographical details. Through conversations with individuals experiencing MS, including her mother, she aimed to portray the uncertainty and physical challenges of the condition. The corps de ballet embodies du Pré’s physical struggles through dance, and the choice to have her carried, instead of using a wheelchair, is a symbolic representation of memory and youth.
What can you say about the designs?
The set designer is Hildegard Bechtler, who found photos of the inside of a cello, which clicked for both of us. I wanted a set that’s not realistic but offers suggestions of concert halls, open spaces, an echo chamber evocative of memory. Its curves are very feminine. The costumes are by Bregje van Balen, a former dancer with Nederlands Dans Theater, who knows what works for choreography without drawing attention to the costumes themselves. The design elements of The Cellist are deeply intertwined with the ballet’s themes. Set designer Hildegard Bechtler drew inspiration from the interior of a cello, creating a non-realistic set that evokes concert halls, open spaces, and the resonant quality of memory. The feminine curves of the set complement the costumes by Bregje van Balen, a former dancer who prioritizes functionality and seamless integration with the choreography.
Marcelino Sambe and Lauren Cuthbertson rehearsing The Cellist.© Gavin Smart. (Click image for larger version)
Alt text: Studio rehearsal of The Cellist ballet scene with dancers Marcelino Sambe and Lauren Cuthbertson, showcasing the expressive movement and emotional depth of the performance.
Did you have a dramaturg for The Cellist, as you do for most of your creations?
Yes, Edward Kemp, with whom I’ve worked at least a dozen times. [He is the Director of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA), a writer, director and translator, as well as dramaturg.] Everybody has different views about Jacqueline du Pré, and I’m sure there’ll be mixed feelings about how we portray her. The ballet is intended to be celebratory, even though it’s a tragic story. She goes on to inspire people, to glow in people’s memories through her recordings and the documentaries about her. A key collaborator in Marston’s creative process is dramaturg Edward Kemp, with whom she has worked extensively. Acknowledging the diverse perspectives on Jacqueline du Pré, Marston emphasizes that The Cellist aims to be a celebration of her legacy, despite the tragic elements of her story. The ballet seeks to honor du Pré’s enduring inspiration and the lasting impact of her music.
Edward Kemp has been working with you on your next commission from San Francisco Ballet, which has its premiere on 24 March, soon after The Cellist for the Royal Ballet.
I made the ballet, Mrs. Robinson, quite a while ago, but clearing the rights has been complicated. It’s my take on Mrs. Robinson, the older woman in The Graduate film and the novel on which it’s based. The author, Charles Webb, sold the rights, including the use of future characters, to a film company that was then bought by another, so it’s been tricky. I saw a copy of his novel by chance when I was in a bookshop in Leeds, creating Victoria for Northern Ballet in 2018. I realised he’d written it in San Francisco, so I immediately knew it should be my second San Francisco Ballet commission. [Her first was Snowblind, premiered in 2018.] Moving on to Mrs. Robinson, Marston reveals that the ballet’s creation predates The Cellist, but rights clearance had been a lengthy process. Inspired by the character from The Graduate, Marston’s ballet offers her unique interpretation of Mrs. Robinson’s story. The serendipitous discovery of Charles Webb’s novel in Leeds, and the realization that it was set in San Francisco, solidified her decision to make it her second commission for the San Francisco Ballet, following Snowblind.
Cathy Marston in the studio rehearsing <I>Mrs. Robinson</I>.<br />© Erik Tomasson. (Click image for larger version)
Alt text: Choreographer Cathy Marston in rehearsal for Mrs. Robinson ballet, captured by Erik Tomasson, providing a behind-the-scenes look at the ballet’s development.
Why Mrs. Robinson?
I was drawn to her because she’s become an archetype of the sophisticated older woman who seduces a young man, even for people who have never seen the film or read the book. I wanted to portray her point of view, why she does what she does, and to give her an alternate ending. Is she going to become a lonely alcoholic, divorced by her husband? I discovered that Betty Friedan’s book, The Feminine Mystique, which was one of the major triggers of a second wave of feminism in the US, was written in the same year, 1963, as Charles Webb’s novel. It was serialised in a women’s magazine, so how wonderful if Mrs Robinson could have been inspired to leave her husband and reclaim her own name, swept up in a wave of women breaking away from tradition. But I want the ballet, like the film, to end ambiguously, so the audience can make up their own minds about her destiny. Marston’s fascination with Mrs. Robinson stems from her iconic status as the seductive older woman. The ballet aims to explore Mrs. Robinson’s motivations and offer an alternative narrative, moving beyond the film’s portrayal. Connecting Mrs. Robinson’s story to Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique, published in the same year as Webb’s novel, Marston considers the potential for Mrs. Robinson to break free from societal expectations and reclaim her identity, while maintaining an ambiguous ending that invites audience interpretation.
What about the music and the song, Mrs Robinson, written for the film by Simon and Garfunkel?
It’s a totally new score by Terry Davies, who often works with Matt Bourne. Terry is the right composer to hint at the period in the US, the 1950s-60s. He uses the saxophone as Mrs Robinson’s voice, and the guitar for the younger counterculture. The designs are by Patrick Kinmonth, who did Jane Eyre with me. Similar to The Cellist, Mrs. Robinson features an original score, this time by Terry Davies, a frequent collaborator with Matthew Bourne. Davies’ music aims to evoke the 1950s-60s American setting of the story, using the saxophone to represent Mrs. Robinson and the guitar to symbolize the younger counterculture. Patrick Kinmonth, who also worked with Marston on Jane Eyre, is responsible for the ballet’s designs.
Sarah Van Patten and Joseph Walsh rehearse Marston
Alt text: San Francisco Ballet rehearsals for Mrs. Robinson, featuring Sarah Van Patten and Joseph Walsh, capturing the dynamic interactions and character portrayals in Marston’s ballet.
You’ve frequently picked literary works as the subjects of your ballets. Do you expect audiences to know the original sources, or do you provide detailed scenarios?
I try to make pieces where someone can take away what they make of it. On the other hand, I like to make a piece that if you know some of the background, you might get a deeper understanding of what is going on. You’d get more from it the more you see the work, though I don’t expect everyone to go multiple times. I prefer to give a short scenario, though some companies like a fuller account, if their programmes can accommodate it. I’ve made some pieces about real-life people, which take a lot more research: Clara Schumann, Anna Goeldi in Witch-hunt, Queen Victoria and now Jacqueline du Pré. Marston’s approach to adapting literary works for ballet is to create pieces that are accessible on multiple levels. While prior knowledge of the source material can enhance understanding, it’s not essential for appreciating the ballet. She aims to provide enough context through short scenarios, while also enriching the experience for those familiar with the underlying stories. Her repertoire includes ballets based on both fictional and real-life figures, demonstrating her range and depth of research.
Why do you think American audiences and critics react so differently to your ballets? Jane Eyre in particular, in American Ballet Theatre’s rep?
The New York Times critic [Gia Kourlas] was very hostile to Jane Eyre, so I preferred not to read her review when I was told about it, but audiences stood up every night. In Chicago, the critics and audiences were excellent. I think ABT audiences at the Met have got used to Alexei Ratmansky’s bright ballets, with lots of steps to display the dancers’ skills. Those audiences would rather see his Whipped Cream and Harlequinade than Jane Eyre, which is about the characters and story. American critics don’t know where to place me: they always ask where’s my lineage? Ashton, MacMillan, Pina Bausch, Mats Ek? I don’t have those influences in my body as I didn’t actually dance their works. I’m as influenced by theatre and literature as much – or perhaps more – as other choreographers. Marston reflects on the varied reception of her ballets in America, particularly Jane Eyre at American Ballet Theatre. Despite a negative review from The New York Times, audience response was overwhelmingly positive. She suggests that differing expectations and critical perspectives in the US, possibly favoring more technically focused ballets like Alexei Ratmansky’s, might contribute to this varied reception. Marston emphasizes her diverse influences, drawing inspiration from theatre and literature as much as from traditional ballet choreography.
Quite a few American companies do want to do my work, if I can’t yet give you details on the record! But it’s announced already that the National Ballet of Canada will share Victoria with Northern Ballet as a co-production in 2021. Despite some critical responses, Marston notes significant interest in her work from numerous American companies and highlights the co-production of Victoria between the National Ballet of Canada and Northern Ballet, indicating growing recognition and demand for her narrative ballets.
Tell us how you work with Jenny Tattersall as your assistant
Her role differs according to the company. Northern Ballet gives me two studios and plenty of time to create and rehearse. With San Francisco Ballet, we can use parallel studios: I have the master plan and list of words to inform and inspire the dancers. Jenny and they prepare the basic dance vocabulary between them and then come back to me. I’ll play with what they’ve done and structure each scene, adapting their ideas to fit my narrative scheme. So Jenny’s role is far more than a coach. For SFB, we’ve changed her title to choreographic collaborator. However, in the Royal Opera House, we can use only one studio, because the ballet company is doing so many things at the same time, so her role has been more limited. Marston concludes by discussing her collaboration with assistant Jenny Tattersall, whose role evolves depending on the company and production circumstances. From a more traditional assistant role to a choreographic collaborator at San Francisco Ballet, Tattersall’s contributions are vital to Marston’s creative process, particularly in companies that offer more resources and studio time.
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