Saturday 11 April 2026

Review by Paul Neeson (Arts Wednesday)

Flora – The Australian Ballet x Bangarra

When I first read about Flora, a new collaboration between The Australian Ballet and Bangarra Dance Theatre, I was curious, more than curious. How could a dance tradition that evolved in Paris, Russia, London and Austria, the four great colonising empires, blend with an ancient tradition that has been transformed by conquest and resistance? On the surface, the two traditions seem incompatible, but upon further reading I discovered this is not the first time the two dance troupes have collaborated.

But historical politics aside, Ballet’s technique is based on elevation and lightness of form, an illusion of flight. Whereas Bangarra’s style is earth based and solid, rooted in the ground and in Country. How could they be combined in a single art form?

Their first joint venture was in 1996 with Alchemy, choreographed by Stephen Page. But the relationship was cemented with the subsequent collaboration, Rites. The dancers were wary of each other and protective of their traditions, but Page instructed in their first encounter for “one Bangarra dancer and one Ballet dancer to enter the circle and move together, shadowing each other.” Respect quickly followed.

Now in 2026, after several more collaborations between the two companies, we are ready for Flora, choreographed by Frances Rings, Artistic Director and Co-CEO of Bangarra. Politics again had a role in its genesis. After the failed Voice referendum, the two companies had a new urgency to work together and the creative team who devised this production have excelled themselves. What they produced is a full-scale story that combines the Aboriginal dreamtime legends with the catastrophic effects of colonisation. But like all great stories, the bigger picture is best told through focusing on a detail, and in this instance the detail is the plant-life of Australia. Our imaginations are fired by seeds, yams, grasses, the collection of specimens by Joseph Banks, wattle, grass trees, regenerative use of fire and finally a colourful display of wild flowers.

Renowned didjeridu player, William Barton, composed the multi-layered score. The Opera Australia Orchestra handled the vibrant score beautifully in the pit under the direction of Joel Bass. The transitions between the live music and the pre-recorded electronic elements were seamless, morphing into one continuous piece of music – a magical, musical mystery tour in fact. The music was also enhanced by the dancers who added foot-stomps, percussion created by digging sticks as well as vocalisations. This is just one example of how all the elements (music, set design and choreography) of the production were integrated into the finished product. But there are many more such examples.

The set design (Elizabeth Gadsby) placed us immediately in the botanical realm, with the plant roots hanging from the ceiling – we were underground with the seeds and the yams. The Sleeping Yams scene was a standout with the potatoey lumps descending from above while starting to grow and sprout. I was transported back in my memory to Snugglepot and Cuddlepie, the May Gibbs children’s book series. The grasses that followed were expressed with only minimal sets, but it was the brilliance of Ring’s choreography that filled in the picture in our minds. The lighting design (Karen Norris) was moody and evocative in Act I. I thought perhaps a bit too dark, but we were underground after all for much of it. In Act II the design relied more on the lights and less on sets. The opening scene with the dancers and plant samples encased in specimen jars was inspired. I could recognise some of the plant species (Gymea Bay Lilly and Banksia) and many others looked familiar, but when the dancers emerged from the specimen pods the metaphor was incredibly poignant. Made even more so by the heavy-handed voice over about the Constitution and the legal status (or lack thereof) of the Aboriginal population.

A special mention goes to the Video design (Craig Wilkinson) for the rear projection in the Fire Song (controlled burning) scene. The fire that began with two hand held torches of fire magically transformed into the most realistic projection I have seen. A small grass fire slowly became a conflagration that enveloped the entire stage, replete with embers floating into the night sky. You could almost smell the smoke.

Jennifer Irwin created stunning costumes that captured our imaginations. From the grass costumes to the Grass Tree Warriors, the fire spirits to the colourful Bush Flowers. During the performance the exquisiteness of the costumes was masked by their total integration into the characters of the dancers. It was only when the house lights came up for the curtain call that we sensed their true beauty and intricate detail.

But in the end it was all about the dancers. They were the ultimate tellers of the stories that unfolded before our eyes. While it was clear in some scenes that the Bangarra dancers were cast as being ‘of the earth’, and the Ballet Corps were the ‘invaders’, the roles were indistinguishable for most of the production. There were slight moments when a Bangarra dancer struggled with balance on extended single leg positions, or when a ballet dancer was a bit too light on their feet, but that’s just being picky. Together the two companies became one unified artistic force.

The Australian Ballet and Bangarra Dance Theatre are a true synergy, where together they become something that is far greater than the parts individually. After the scorched earth of the failed Voice referendum, this is a story of hope; within the burnt landscape lie the seeds and roots of renewal and rebirth. Life will return! I expect to read news of Flora being a smash hit at festivals around the world in the near future.