Pay attention the next time you watch one of those great dance sequences from any of the better films to come out of the MGM Freed Unit during its heyday. Something very interesting is going on, at least from a camerawork perspective: absolutely nothing. Now that isn't a blanket statement, and of course there are notable exceptions, as when a camera might start in close and track back to reveal something, or conversely, crane shots that start wide and then swoop in to one or more principal dancers. But notice the simplicity of most of, say, the great Astaire routines--the camera is placed to reveal the entire body, and it just sits there as Fred does his thing. Dance really is something that needs to be seen in mid-shots for the most part, if you ask me. All of the fancy quick cutting that some people loved (and I have hunch purists like me hated) about newer musicals like Chicago defeats two purposes--it deprives the viewer of getting a feel for the "geography" of the dance, including showing all of the body or bodies in motion, and, more importantly, it robs the viewer of the feeling they are watching an uncut, one take performance.
I have no doubt the stellar ballet dancers involved in Mauro Bigonzetti's Carvaggio are moving through their paces unaided by multiple takes, so at least that qualm is off the table. But time and again as I watched what looks to be an interesting exploration in dance of the famed late 16th-early 17th century Italian painter, my efforts to get swept up in the flow of the piece were hampered by television director Andreas Morell, who evidently never met a quick cut he doesn't like. To be fair, we do get a fair number of establishing shots, at least now and then, but they are too often interspersed with absolutely meaningless, and actually distracting, close-ups of knees or elbows or even faces (do faces dance?). Don't even get me started on the overhead shots, which I assume must have come via some wrong headed attempt at an hommage to Busby Berkeley. I half expected the dancers to start forming kaleidoscope patterns.
This is an extremely athletic piece of choreography, with several very interesting pas de deux and even trois, all set to some very pleasing music by Bruno Moretti, much of it based on themes of Monteverdi. And the ensemble work is just as compelling, with bodies moving through areas of both classical ballet and something more akin to modern dance. There are passing references to Caravaggio the person and the painter throughout, but some may find those a bit on the tenuous side. While lighting designer Carlo Cerri obviously models his stage effects on Caravaggio's incredible balance of light and dark, unfortunately the pendulum swings too often toward the dark side of things, and there's no real effort to reproduce the incredible depth and detail in the lighting that is the hallmark of Caravaggio's oeuvre.
This evidently highly lauded performance by Berlin's Staatsballett and Staatskapelle probably was a more visceral and enjoyable experience in person, where individual audience members could take in the entire proscenium, or focus on whichever dancer caught their fancy. This television version is simply too haphazard and piecemeal to ever establish a rapport with the viewer--it's too much about editing and camera angles, and too little about dance.