Fans of the 1875 Georges Bizet opera Carmen might come to the version now on at the National Ballet and get a shock. Not only is the two hour-plus opera cut down to a tidy 45 minutes, but the famous fiery flamenco-nature of work, all fluttering fans and frilly dresses, is amiss. Well, not entirely –but the ones wearing those dresses happen to be four male dancers.

However, before the tale of the famous wanton gypsy is presented, audiences are treated to the slow, thoughtfully poetic Skin Divers, inspired by Anne Michaels’ book of poetry of the same name (McLelland and Stewart, 1999) and choreographed by Dominique Dumais. Michaels’ voice is heard, hypnotically reciting verses, as a scrim showing black and white (filmed) angles of a nude woman is seen; this scrim serves as the backdrop (and sometime-frontage) for a group of dancers –eight pairs, to be precise, who circle, stretch, and pirouette around one another in a dance for the ages.

New Orleans resident, Louis Maistros has crafted a deep watery tale that is as drenched with symbolism as the Mississippi delta itself. A writer of lesser ability would have been swallowed up in the swirling complexity of such a plot, plunging it to the level of a silly period piece regional novel. However, The Sound of Building Coffins is different. Maistros keeps his head above water and pulls off an admirable story because of his keen research into the history of New Orleans and his compelling style that is fired by his use of foreboding imagery. Readers can never guess what is coming next as the various threads are revealed and followed. The story, although complex, rings true because of its meticulous backdrop and immediate reader sympathy with the Morningstar family. The plot confronts readers with the religious symbolism of the battle between good and evil, death and rebirth, and the cycle of destruction and redemption.