La Fille mal gardée | Paris Opera Ballet

La Fille mal gardée (Paris Opera Ballet)

Choreographed by Frederick Ashton

Palais Garnier, Paris – 06 Jul 15

To see La Fille mal gardée, Frederick Ashton’s comically light-hearted ballet, performed by the Paris Opera Ballet at their home venue of the Palais Garnier was a genuinely rare treat this summer. Normally relying on touring productions to get a theatre-fix, it was a welcome change to experience this ballet in the glorious environs of the Opéra national de Paris. With its country setting, simple storyline and lovable characters Fille has always been a popular ballet – after all, who wouldn’t want to see professional dancers dress up in giant chicken suits? – and having seen a previous performance by the Royal Ballet earlier this year it was far too tempting to see it again by a different ballet company.

For any readers who do not know, the story follows Lise (danced by Myriam Ould-Braham) and Colas (Josua Hoffalt), a young couple in love who are constantly separated by the attempts of Lise’s mother Simone (traditionally performed by a male dancer, in this case by Aurélien Houette) who would prefer to see her daughter marry Alain (Simon Valastro), the son of a wealthy farmer. As one might guess, the young couple find plenty of ways to be together and out-wit Simone, and of course the ballet concludes with a happy ending. The plotline may be pleasantly predictable, but this allows for a greater appreciation of the quality of the dancing. Ould-Braham’s footwork and Hoffalt’s elevation were both stand-out elements, and Houette’s commitment to his character’s comedic appeal never faltered, even during the curtain calls.

Despite being a ballet of a cheerful and comic nature, this performance of Fille was in fact rather dramatic. Following an injury, étoile dancer Myriam Ould-Braham was unable to continue in the role of Lise in the ballet’s second act. It was impossible to tell exactly when she suffered the injury however it must have been of a serious degree if she could no longer perform, but I hope that it was not too severe and I wish her a speedy recovery. The character of Lise was taken over in Act II by Éléonore Guérineau, who matched Ould-Braham’s performance so beautifully it was difficult to tell it was a different dancer. Both ballerinas had feet to die for, making me wonder how many pairs of pointe shoes they can get through in one performance.

The Palais Garnier itself is a venue of such extraordinary splendour that it deserves its own particular mention in this review. From the towering pillars that adorn the front of the building to the ornate golden décor throughout one cannot help but adore such ostentatious grandeur, the intensity of which feels so perfectly fitting for an opera house. Further enhanced by its location, in the centre of a square in Paris with the grand Avenue de l’Opéra stretching out before it, it is impossible not to look twice at this display of sumptuous architectural design (created by Charles Garnier in the 19^th century). The interior is all red and gold, with sweeping staircases and elegant balconettes dominating the foyer and a stunningly beautiful ceiling design inside the auditorium. The chandelier, famous for its part in the legend of the Phantom of the Opera (initially in Gaston Leroux’s 1911 novel Le Fantôme de l’Opéra), more than lives up to expectations. Indeed, only the start of the ballet could distract from the opulent surroundings – although the extra fold-out seats in the aisles would probably cause a health and safety riot in a theatre here!

Palais Garnier

The chandelier

Having now experienced a performance not only by a new company (new to me at least!) but in an exquisitely unique venue and in a foreign country, the element that struck me the most was how fantastic it is that dance and music exist as means of universal communication. To sit in a theatre surrounded by people who do not even speak the same language as each other, and yet all be swept away by the same performance and laugh at the same humour is quite an extraordinary experience. This performance of La Fille mal gardée will therefore remain particularly memorable for me for its state of universality, and I would love to encounter that again in future theatre trips.

Wuthering Heights | Northern Ballet

Wuthering Heights (Northern Ballet)

Choreographed by David Nixon

Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield – 21 Mar 15

Hearing Wuthering Heights and “ballet” in the same sentence is sure to cause a stream of differing reactions throughout literary and dance fans alike. Whilst some sigh at the prospect of yet another adaptation of Emily Brontë’s sole novel, others – myself included – cannot help but feel that ballet is perhaps the perfect artistic medium through which to convey the powerful emotive turmoil that is Wuthering Heights. David Nixon’s ballet takes you straight to the core of Cathy and Heathcliff’s story with movement and music as the only means of expression, reflecting Emily Brontë’s storytelling in a performance of dramatic emotional exposure and beautifully agonised dancing.

Northern Ballet is a dance company with a reputation for constantly producing new work with a strong narrative focus (past works have included Cleopatra, Madame Butterfly, Dracula, and Peter Pan), and although Wuthering Heights made its première back in 2002 this current revival feels fresh, innovative and intensely exciting. Martha Leebolt and Tobias Batley are particularly thrilling in the lead roles of the self-destructive lovers, combining Leebolt’s ability to create effortlessly beautiful lines with Batley’s enticing yet slightly disturbing stage presence. Their portrayals of the characters are wholly believable; indeed both dancers’ intense performances leave an appropriately haunting impression even after the curtain has closed.

The ingenuity of Nixon’s choreographic skill is demonstrated in how the characters of this ballet come alive through just a few movements. Heathcliff’s volatility becomes evident from his first moments on stage, made animalistic through crouched positions and sudden bursts of energy. Cathy transforms depending on who she is dancing with, shifting from a wilder and more expressive style with Heathcliff – interestingly danced without pointe shoes – to a stiffer, almost doll-like character with Edgar (danced by Hironao Takahashi). It is easy to see the contrasting feelings she has regarding the two men. However, despite their wild passion Heathcliff and Cathy still manage to retain a level of tenderness in their pas de deux that showcases their genuine connection. In contrast the scenes between Heathcliff and Isabella (danced by Hannah Bateman) alter the atmosphere drastically. Their unnerving duet in Act II, whilst encompassing some fabulously dramatic tension, conveys some not so subtle tones of oppression and violence that make watching it feel quite uncomfortable.

A major element of the passion of Wuthering Heights undoubtedly comes from the score, beautifully composed by Claude-Michel Schönberg. Composer of both Les Misérables and Miss Saigon Schönberg knows how to tell a story through music, and the absence of songs and lyrics in a ballet truly demonstrates the extensive narrative power of a musical score. It is quite an extraordinary moment during the opening bars to hear the sound of the wind across the moors, only to realise that it is no sound effect but instruments alone.

Of course, like any adaptation, changes are made to the basic storyline in order to channel focus onto specific areas of the plot. The second generation of Emily Brontë’s novel – Catherine, Hareton and Linton – are completely omitted from the ballet, which instead ends following Cathy’s death. Whilst this may not appeal to the more dedicated fans of the book, it does retain an emphasis on the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff. This is furthered by the constant reappearance of their younger selves (danced by Jeremy Curnier and Rachael Gillespie), whose presence throughout the ballet seems to remind both the characters and the audience that there was a time together unsullied by obsession and self-interest.

As a touring company the dancers of Northern Ballet are clearly highly experienced in adapting themselves and their performances to different venues, but occasionally the smaller stage at the Sheffield Lyceum did seem to hinder some of the dancing, particularly the powerful grand jetés and during travelling sequences. Nevertheless, this was a minute negative amongst a myriad of artistic delights, not the least how the dancers brought their characters and the narrative to life. The story is so well-known, and this production utilises movement and music to really tap into its emotional element. Wuthering Heights is a truly thrilling ballet, and I can’t wait for the chance to see another Northern Ballet creation.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland | The Royal Ballet

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (The Royal Ballet)

Choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon

Live screening – 16 Dec 14

When Christmas approaches, ballet companies across the country often choose to present The Nutcracker in all its glittering and festive splendour, but this year the Royal Ballet deterred from tradition with Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, a refreshing and inspired production guaranteed to become a firm favourite. Overflowing with clever and quirky interpretations of Lewis Carroll’s imaginative world, this new ballet takes “adaptation” to a whole new level.

Despite some slight deviations from the traditional storyline, such as a crossover between the characters from Alice’s dream and her reality, the ballet is a faithful reworking of Carroll’s literary creation. Opening with an 1862 garden party that introduced the characters (including Carroll himself), the production quickly moved into the more bizarre world of Wonderland, incorporating the use of projections and puppetry to convey the curious creatures Alice (danced by Sarah Lamb) encounters. However, in an unexpected twist, the ballet concluded with Alice awakening in 2014, having fallen asleep reading Carroll’s book.

The ingenious creativity in the presentation of the characters themselves is an element that cannot be overlooked in a review of this ballet, and in fact was a highlight throughout the entire show. The Mad Hatter (Steven McRae) became the Mad Tapper, beating out frenzied rhythms on his miniature stage made of a tea party table. The Caterpillar (Eric Underwood) took the form of a rajah, his undulating performance concluding with eight extra dancers to create a many-legged effect. Similarly, the Cheshire Cat utilised multiple dancers along with the art of puppetry, allowing the Cat’s head, feet and tail to mysteriously float away in numerous directions. Even the usually unassuming White Rabbit (Alexander Campbell) had a unique character twist in his development into Alice’s guide and protector.

However, it was the Queen of Hearts (danced superbly by Zenaida Yanowsky) who ultimately stole the show in Act III. The highlight of her performance was undoubtedly the parody of the famous Rose Adagio from The Sleeping Beauty, traditionally danced by the Princess Aurora and four suitors in a demonstration of perfect balance and poise. In Alice, the Queen performed what can only be called a “Tart Adagio”, in which jam tarts took the place of roses and her reluctant cohort of dancers unintentionally ruined her attempt at a graceful routine. Yanowsky’s dance ability is clearly beyond outstanding in order to perform this comical spoof of a notoriously difficult piece of ballet repertoire.

Nevertheless, the production still contained plenty of classical ballet content to please the more traditional fans. In a garden scene, dancers swirled in a kaleidoscopic waltz of colour reminiscent of the Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker, and various pas de deux between Alice and the Knave of Hearts (Federico Bonelli) interspersed the storytelling with moments of innocent delight and understated elegance. These aspects, combined with Joby Talbot’s truly magical clockwork score, prevent the ballet from descending into a chaotic overload of comical characterisation. Ultimately, this is a production that manages to find the subtle balance between the beautiful and the excessive, and the classic and the curious.

Best Ballet Bits

Following on from my post Memorable Musical Moments, I wanted to expand this idea further and share some more top moments that I have experienced in watching theatrical and artistic performances across the years. In a shift of focus, I have turned to the beautiful art form of ballet – the very first type of performance that I learned and loved as a child. This childhood love of ballet has not faded, and the five moments outlined below are some of – in my opinion – ballet’s best bits.

 

Lilac Fairy Variation – The Sleeping Beauty (Marius Petipa)

There are many variations in the world of ballet, but this particular one from The Sleeping Beauty has always stood out for me. It seems to encompass all aspects of ballet – strength, flexibility, beauty – into one short piece, and this performance by Marianela Nuñez is simply stunning.

Dance of the Cygnets – Swan Lake (Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov)

It may be an obvious choice, but I have chosen this dance from Swan Lake for reasons other than its time-honoured reputation. This dance is extremely deceptive – it looks quite simple, but I can speak from experience when I say it is in fact an incredibly difficult piece to master. The timing of all four dancers must be impeccable, and even the slightest error in synchronicity will ruin this renowned number.

Ice Dance – Edward Scissorhands (Matthew Bourne)

Whilst it cannot be described as classical ballet (indeed, the term “dansical” has been batted around instead), I had to include some work by Matthew Bourne in my top five. This piece from Edward Scissorhands is a favourite for me for its combination of unique interpretive style and balletic simplicity. I particularly love the effect of ice skating that is created in the choreography, and Bourne’s amazing ability to turn something as bizarre as Edward Scissorhands  into a beautiful narrative dance definitely deserves much admiration.

Coda/Fouettés – Don Quixote (Marius Petipa)

Fouettés en tournant (thirty two of them of course). The coda of the grand pas de deux is usually an impressive conclusion of both the male and female dancer’s skill, but the fouettés often dominate this part of the duet as the ultimate accomplishment of any prima ballerina. Arguably the most famous of these is in Swan Lake, but my favourite is from Petipa’s jubilant ballet Don Quixote, and performed to perfection here by Natalia Osipova.

Final Pas de Deux – Manon (Kenneth MacMillan)

MacMillan’s Manon is a ballet in a league of its own, and the emotional closing pas de deux is undoubtedly a masterpiece. Described by The Royal Ballet as an “adult ballet”, it breaks all preconceptions of ballet whilst remaining an absolute classic. In this duet, Manon’s exhaustion is evident following a deportation to Louisiana as a prostitute, but this merely adds to the sensation of the dance. And whilst dying mid-lift may sound a bit over-dramatic or even farcical, in the midst of the pas de deux it is one of the most harrowing finales of any tragic ballet. When applause is accompanied by tears, you know you’ve found something exceptional.

The Winter’s Tale | The Royal Ballet

The Winter’s Tale (The Royal Ballet)

Choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon

Live screening – 28 Apr 14

Adapting a Shakespeare play into a full-length ballet is a feat that has been achieved with great success in the past (thinking particularly of Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet). Whilst this new production by choreographer Christopher Wheeldon is not completely flawless, the addition of a new narrative ballet to the company’s repertoire is definitely more than welcome. Live cinema relays from the Royal Opera House also seem to have become very popular, and the quality of the close-ups and excellent camera work more than make up for the absence of a true theatre environment.

Act I of the ballet is set in the kingdom of Sicilia, ruled by King Leontes, and dominated by the themes of suspicion and jealousy. In an adaptation from a play into a ballet, where words cannot be used to express the depth of a character’s emotions, the ability of the dancers to communicate through movement alone is crucial. Edward Watson’s portrayal of the suspicious king was packed with dramatic intensity; indeed he seemed more like an actor who could dance rather than a dancer who could act. It was bizarre to watch the jarred choreography for this character, with awkward contortions and spasms to characterise Leontes’ fits of jealousy. Yet at the same time it was hard not to appreciate Wheeldon’s representation of such a complex emotion, one that is often difficult enough to convey through words, let alone dance. The way the lighting design emphasised Leontes’ flashes of jealous delusion was also very effective. The moments of imagined adultery between Hermione and Polixenes were intricately interspersed throughout their dance sequence by dramatic changes in light as well as choreography, showing how Leontes only really saw what he chose to see.

Another fascinating aspect of the first act was the trial of Queen Hermione (danced by Lauren Cuthbertson), in which there was a moment of poignant similarity between Hermione and the character of Juliet from MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet. During Hermione’s trial (where she defends herself against accusations of adultery after giving birth to her daughter in prison) there seemed to be a resemblance to the scene from MacMillan’s narrative ballet in which Juliet is being forced into a marriage with Paris. The same anguished resignation expressed by Juliet was evident in Wheeldon’s choreography for Hermione. In particular, a simple sequence of posé en pointe appeared to mirror MacMillan’s choice of steps, creating an interesting connection between the two works.

The handling of Shakespeare’s famous stage direction ‘Exit, pursued by a bear’ at the end of Act I was, however, slightly questionable. Whilst it was a relief that they did not settle for a dancer in a bear costume – which would have been nothing short of ludicrous – the use of a silken wave imprinted with the likeness of a bear face descending towards Antigonus was just too indistinct. Indeed, until the image of the bear became more discernible it seemed that Antigonus’ demise had been rewritten, and that he had in fact been drowned by a tidal wave in the storm. Even so, the attempt to add a sense of ambiguity to what can become a comical rather than dramatic denouement to the first act should be applauded.

The stark contrast between the set designs in Act I and II emphasised the story’s focus on the mercurial relationship between the two worlds of Sicilia and Bohemia. The bright colours of Bohemia provided a sense of relief following the bleak and minimalist Sicilia of the first act, and designer Bob Crowley certainly excelled with his incorporation of a single large tree adorned with decorations to preside over the pastoral festivities of the shepherd community of Bohemia.

Throughout Act II it was the dancing itself that was particularly outstanding (as it should in a ballet!), with exhilarating folksy numbers by the corps de ballet and a beautiful pas de deux from the characters of Perdita (Sarah Lamb) and Prince Florizel (Steven McRae). The more modern style of Wheeldon’s choreography really shone here as it brought a freshness to the typical story of young lovers, as portrayed by Perdita and Florizel. McRae’s performance was especially magnificent – his elevation throughout Act II really brought the scene to life. The inclusion of a live band on stage was also a noteworthy addition, creating a more spontaneous feel to the Bohemians’ festivities.

In contrast, the final pas de deux between Leontes and Hermione (once she is “magically” restored from a statue) has been critiqued as an anti-climax and lacking the enchantment of Shakespeare’s words. However, it appeared more as a simple yet evocative duet that stood out in the midst of a final act that seemed rather rushed compared to the more lengthy preceding parts. In all honesty, it seemed that this pas de deux eclipsed the rest of the act – even the celebratory wedding dance (normally a high point within a narrative ballet) for Florizel and Perdita felt disappointingly brief.

On the whole this new work is an intriguing reworking of a very complex play, and the production of a new narrative ballet is truly exciting. Whilst the often dissonant tones of the music made the score sometimes difficult to listen to, and the choreography incorporated more flexed feet than is customary in a ballet, the dancing was, as ever, beyond stunning. Despite a few disappointments this is a show worth seeing, especially if you enjoy beautiful dancing or powerful storytelling – and this ballet has both.