Suggestive “Sun King” Brings Identity to Fore

 

 

Elements Ballet’s new production, The Sun King: A Contemporary Ballet in One Act (premiere), which debuted at the Pritzker Pavilion on November 13, is both an ambitious and ambiguous tale of two cities, or two men, as it were.

An inventive and welcome portrayal, the latest from choreographer Joseph Caruana, looks at the platonic bond between French monarch Louis XIV and court composer Jean-Baptiste Lully. But adding a wrinkle to this contemporary saga is a historical factoid that proved scandalous and costly for Lully, whose attraction for his one-time boss (and for other men) became something of a worst kept secret. Lully, who was born in Italy, married a woman and took male lovers as companions, drew the ire of Louis in the later part of his career, forcing the composer into quiet exile. His status as an outsider remains a lasting, though sparingly documented, part of his legacy.

In that context, The Sun King evokes less of Louis’s influence as the revered founder of classical ballet or Lully’s subtle infatuation and impending exile, as it does the androgyny of the era, a queer world as active as it was scrutinized. It’s a well-constructed parallel of then versus now.

Curuana’s cast is genderless, seemingly empowered and subjugated by their black garb and bright blue eye makeup; Meriem Bahri’s costumes, imaginative in their regal-goth design, look interchangeable for both sexes; female dancer Tiffany McCord is cast as Lully; Joey Gaona as Lully’s wife; and Chicago’s Baroque Band, skillfully employs live period music, much of it composed by Lully himself.

While there’s much to appreciate from this asexual world, The Sun King sometimes falls prey to its many moving pieces. The movement — clever in its geometry but sporadic in its manic tendencies — can feel overpowering, underperformed, and occasionally overshadowed by the music. In one of the more vivid scenes, Curuana, flaunting as the regal Sun King, dons a beige leotard and pointe shoes. A corps of dancers sits in front of him, facing away, as if allowing the monarch to show off, typical of the real-life Louis, who performed in his own ballets. Curuana’s strength is his historical acumen, a trait that for most choreographers fluctuates between too little and too much. The Sun King achieves a happy medium, planned with great thought and intention.

A crown, emblematic of a burning sun, is introduced in the middle of the performance, carefully placed upon the head of Louis. At the end, the audience witnesses a woman, wearing similar garb, donning the crown. She stands on high, looking down on her subjects – an assurance that transition was forthcoming — from man to women and not looking back.