If ballet had a conscience, and a sense of humor, it might look very much like “Still Life at the Penguin Café.” Nearly 40 years after its debut, Sir David Bintley’s beloved and beguiling work returns to the stage with The Sarasota Ballet, proving that a piece can be whimsical, stylish, and deeply affecting all at once. The timing feels especially apt: this is a ballet that will entertain and make an impact – something local audiences are going to love.
Set to the wildly original music of Simon Jeffes and his Penguin Café Orchestra, Still Life is often described as a cautionary environmental tale. But Bintley is quick to clarify that he never meant to lecture. “The best way to lose an audience is to get preachy,” he said. Instead, he entices viewers in with humor, color, and charm. The ballet is populated by endangered and extinct animals, rendered with affection, wit, and theatrical invention, who dance their way through a world that is, quite literally, disappearing beneath their feet.
The title itself is a deliberate pun. “Still life” nods to the classical painting genre, yes, but also to the hope of ‘yet living’. When the ballet premiered nearly four decades ago, environmental anxiety was present but less urgent. Today, the message resonates with a new sharpness. “Every time it comes back, I think, ‘It won’t work this time,’” Bintley admitted with a laugh. And yet, it does—perhaps because the combination of humor, humanity, and heartbreak feels more relevant than ever.
The ballet was concieved not with a manifesto, but with music. Initially resistant to Simon Jeffes’ quirky, folk-inflected score, Bintley experienced a sudden imaginative shift—an image of Noah’s Ark that became the work’s central motif. Further inspired by “The Doomsday Book of Animals: A Natural History of Vanished Species,” the ballet found its emotional core in the idea of extinction and the irreversible loss of what cannot be reclaimed.
That said, for much of its length, the ballet sparkles with comedy, as animals from different corners of the globe, each linked to distinct cultural movement styles, move about the stage. Then, about two-thirds of the way through, the mood darkens, as humans begin to appear alongside the animals.
Children, interestingly, have always grasped the ballet’s meaning instinctively, Bintley noted. Over the years it even became part of school curricula in the UK. “The children used to write letters telling me what they thought the ballet was about,” Bintley said. That clarity, born of storytelling rather than sermonizing, has helped the work endure.
For local audiences, there’s an added layer of affection. Bintley shares a long, intertwined history with Iain Webb, Director of The Sarasota Ballet. The two danced in the same circles as young artists, connected through the Yorkshire Ballet Seminars, and Bintley choreographed early works on Webb and his generation. That professional bond has matured into a shared philosophy: repertory matters, relationships matter, and honoring British ballet heritage can be a living, breathing endeavor rather than a museum exercise.
Bintley believes deeply in returning to companies he knows well. “If you do a lot of work with them, you appreciate the company and its style,” he said. For this production, he’ll send his longtime assistant, Patricia—keeper of the choreography’s sacred texts—to lay the groundwork, before arriving himself to “imbue the piece with a bit of fairy dust.”
Having worked with The Sarasota Ballet several times, Bintley appreciates that our local audiences are already familiar with British ballet, thanks to Webb’s dedication to the works of Sir Frederick Ashton and other masters. He also treasures the simple pleasure of walking down to the water at the end of the day. It’s a small detail, but a telling one: an artist who has spent decades reflecting on what we risk losing finds both solace and inspiration by the sea.
With its instantly recognizable Penguin Café Orchestra score, "Still Life at the Penguin Café" feels timeless, cabaret-like, and quietly devastating. It makes you laugh. It makes you marvel. And then, almost before you realize it, it asks you to care: for Sarasota, for dance, and for the fragile, still-living world we share.
Bintley shares a long, intertwined history with Iain Webb, Director of The Sarasota Ballet.
Bintley appreciates that our local audiences are already familiar with British ballet thanks to Webb’s dedication to the works of Sir Frederick Ashton and other masters.