Arrow of Eros

By Lawrence Malkin

The medieval legend of Tristan, that eponymous sad warrior who conquered Isolde as a love trophy for his king and in turn was conquered by her, has bewitched disparate imaginations. Wagner was moved to his grandest romantic music by the perfect love that could end only in death; Surrealist Poet Jean Cocteau was bemused by it. Now the tale has been stitched into a counterpoint of modern choreographic and orchestral exploration as a ballet at the Opera in Paris.

The work began to take form a year ago, when the German composer Hans Werner Henze was writing a tone poem on Tristan that transformed the third-act madness of Wagner's hero into motifs of 20th century alienation. In Henze's score, the opera's emotionally powerful themes were dissonantly scattered throughout the piece. Henze used skillfully balanced electronic music to overlay the woodwinds, and he made the mournful Shepherd's Song echo through a veritable cave of the winds.

Perfect Embrace. Just as Henze had finished the composition, that heldentenor of dancers, Rudolf Nureyev, approached him about writing some ballet music. Naturally Henze suggested his Tristan. Together they persuaded American Choreographer Glen Tetley to work with them. For Isolde, Tetley lured the American modern dancer Carolyn Carlson, a strikingly attenuated alumna of Alwin Nikolais' troupe, one of the first multimedia groups in which lights as well as people dance. With a body as spare and stripped down as a metal tube, she proved to be perfectly suited to the distinctive blend of modern dance and classical ballet Tetley has handled so successfully at his home base in Stuttgart (TIME, June 17).

Tristan depends for its effect on the contrast and blending of Nureyev's sensual style with Carlson's icy expressiveness. Carlson seems to initiate Nureyev's body into the mysteries of abstract form; he entices hers into the suppleness of classical movements. As always with love, the emotion is that of mutual discovery --but discovery by balletic detail. In the course of a series of solos and pas de deux, her once rigid torso bends delicately. The sharp crook of his arm, previously drawn only like a bow, softens and enfolds. The comments of music and dance upon each other reach their inevitable conclusion: the lovers recline together in an agonizing and perfect embrace.

On the bare stage of the Paris opera house are only two pieces of scenery. One is a huge silvery triangle, rather like an arrow of Eros, which reflects the dancers' movements with shimmering fluidity--recalling the sea motifs in Wagner's opera. The other is an 8-ft.-high tubular arch, the rim of death that finally encloses Tristan and Isolde.

The 50-minute ballet demands concentration as well as a reasonable familiarity with contemporary music and dance. On opening night a mettlesome Paris audience gave the work a few lusty boos along with the cheering. For both Rudolf Nureyev and Carolyn Carlson, however, it was an unalloyed triumph --an instance when, as Yeats said, it was hard to tell the dancers from the dance. sbLawrence Malkin

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.