The Night of Many Temperaments

The Four Temperaments

I went to see Chroma/The Four Temperaments/DGV (Danse à Grande Vitesse) last night. The tickets were bought by Old Man Ray, whom I've mentioned in a previous post. My boss, who loves the ballet, told me beforehand that tickets for this particular show were as good as gold dust. I told Kevin it made me uncomfortable to accept such an expensive ticket, not knowing Old Man Ray that well, but he said that's what Old Man Ray does all the time: he buys about 10 tickets to the ballet then tries to get people to see it with him. He's nearly 80 years old, queer, without family, so he enjoys spending his money on others - especially if they are young and male.

I had never been to the Royal Opera House before. I met Kevin and Joel in the foyer, shortly before a tipsy-looking Old Man Ray joined us, holding a glass of white wine. We followed the crowd's surge into the coat-check area, then up the stairs, past the beautiful bar (which used to be a flower and food market in the old days), and onto our seats. We were close to the roof, and on the right-hand side, so our view was slightly restricted, but this did not stop us from enjoying the three pieces.

The first one, Chroma, had dancers on a bare white stage, dressed in Gap pyjamas (as I would describe them), doing their tight-ass clinching routines to the orchestra. Some of the music was arranged by Jack White III, from the White Stripes. After an interval, where we downed a bottle of white wine (and Old Man Ray ate someone's leftover egg sandwich), we watched the pleasant and anodyne Four Temperaments. I found myself drifting away. Cue another interval, another bottle of white wine, and some wandering around because Old Man Ray wanted to spot celebrities (he told us of the time he spotted Margaret Thatcher with her husband and minders.) I spotted two British actors, whose names now escape me (one of them is an actor in one of the National's current productions) as well as someone I used to know in Canada. I didn't speak to any of them. (Edit: one of the actors was Bill Nighy.)

Back at our seats, Old Man Ray spotted a friend in the crowd. He waved at her and I was suddenly made aware of myself as a young gay man escorting a much older gay man. It was strange thinking of myself that way. I made sure to pay for the bottle of wine during the first interval (my guilty conscience never leaves me) but I was still aware that Old Man Ray wanted us there not because of our opinions on the ballet, but because we complimented him in some way.

The last piece, DGV (Danse à Grande Vitesse), was the most impressive, the stage filled with dancers performing to music that reminded me of the film Baraka. The stage looked like it had been ripped open, with some of the dancers jumping in the back and waving their hands while others performed in pairs centre and front stage. I have no clue how to describe their techniques but everything looked very impressive. In some ways, the music overwhelmend the dancing, but it worked well for me in the sense that I didn't drift away on an alcoholic sturpor.

Afterwards, we found a traditional chip shop in Covent Garden, The Rock & Sole Plaice, where we ordered fat chips with salt and vinegar inside paper bags. We said goodbye to Old Man Ray and Joel at their bus stop (they shared a bus home because they are neighbours in Dalston) while Kevin and I took the tube.