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Royal Ballet's "Swan Lake'
Imperial Russian Palace meets Edward Gorey
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
Anthony Dowell‘s production of Swan Lake proved the more cohesive of this month’s two Royal Ballet productions, even though it’s a trans-era choreographic collaboration of the 19th-Century masters Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov and Royal Ballet choreographers David Bintley and the legendary Frederick Ashton. Dowell orchestrates four brilliantly structured acts, lavishly full of iconic images, displaying the Royal Ballet’s mastery of narrative balletic storytelling. Dowell doesn’t tie it up with psychological torpor or veiled homoerotic subtext between Prince Albrecht, his hunting buddy and von Rothbart, the swan sorcerer.
The production design is a potent blend of fantasy macabre— Imperial Russian Palace meets Edward Gorey. Gold and crystal spidery gates and eight-foot candelabras that Liberace would have killed for are just two examples. When two dozen swans in wilted feathery tutus come over the dreamily foreboding lakefronts, it becomes a ballet dream everyone should experience. Indeed, the third star in this production is the supple transcreature deportment of this corps de ballet: whether stilled or in motion, the unison work is razor-sharp and the ensemble lines serene. I was surprised that the famous entwined quartet, The Cygnets, were a little unbalanced and even campy, à la Ballets Trockadero. Deirdre Chapman and Isabel McMeekan as the Two Swans, similarly, came off as a bit detached even for ethereal avia.
As Odette-Odile, Tamara Rojo’s transcendent artistry commanded in every moment. Her attack is full out, her phrasing pulses through the music and her expressive artistry carves a riveting Odette. Rojo and Frederico Bonelli as Siegfried achieved smoldering chemistry in the central pas de deux, never cheating the precision of the lifts, turns and arabesques. Bonelli was a most attendant Prince but seemed reserved in his solos, as if he was dialing it back from what he normally does.
A surprise substitute
Everyone was surprised after a long break when the company’s director Monica Mason (who danced Odette-Odile 31 years earlier in the company’s last appearance at the Mann) announced that Rojo had injured herself and wouldn’t be dancing the Odile; Roberta Marquez would dance the Black Swan act for the first time, partnered with Bonelli. Marquez immediately brought over her fiery Odile with control and flair. Much to both dancers’ credit, the fact that this was the first time was only noticeable in a couple of shaky pointe poses. Marquez hydrofoiled a little during Odile’s famous 32 fouettes— she only pumped out 30— but it hardly mattered, because everybody loved her by then. Rojo returned for the less physically demanding Act IV, a courageous decision considering the stakes of risking further injury.
The divertissement masked the ballroom scene, with the brilliant swirl of costumes for the dance of the Princesses, the Spanish dancers, Czardas Cossack corps (with those signature kneeled lunges) and gypsy tarantella, all in vivid danse coloratura.
To read Lewis Whittington's review of the Royal Ballet's Romeo and Juliet, click here.
LEWIS WHITTINGTON
Anthony Dowell‘s production of Swan Lake proved the more cohesive of this month’s two Royal Ballet productions, even though it’s a trans-era choreographic collaboration of the 19th-Century masters Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov and Royal Ballet choreographers David Bintley and the legendary Frederick Ashton. Dowell orchestrates four brilliantly structured acts, lavishly full of iconic images, displaying the Royal Ballet’s mastery of narrative balletic storytelling. Dowell doesn’t tie it up with psychological torpor or veiled homoerotic subtext between Prince Albrecht, his hunting buddy and von Rothbart, the swan sorcerer.
The production design is a potent blend of fantasy macabre— Imperial Russian Palace meets Edward Gorey. Gold and crystal spidery gates and eight-foot candelabras that Liberace would have killed for are just two examples. When two dozen swans in wilted feathery tutus come over the dreamily foreboding lakefronts, it becomes a ballet dream everyone should experience. Indeed, the third star in this production is the supple transcreature deportment of this corps de ballet: whether stilled or in motion, the unison work is razor-sharp and the ensemble lines serene. I was surprised that the famous entwined quartet, The Cygnets, were a little unbalanced and even campy, à la Ballets Trockadero. Deirdre Chapman and Isabel McMeekan as the Two Swans, similarly, came off as a bit detached even for ethereal avia.
As Odette-Odile, Tamara Rojo’s transcendent artistry commanded in every moment. Her attack is full out, her phrasing pulses through the music and her expressive artistry carves a riveting Odette. Rojo and Frederico Bonelli as Siegfried achieved smoldering chemistry in the central pas de deux, never cheating the precision of the lifts, turns and arabesques. Bonelli was a most attendant Prince but seemed reserved in his solos, as if he was dialing it back from what he normally does.
A surprise substitute
Everyone was surprised after a long break when the company’s director Monica Mason (who danced Odette-Odile 31 years earlier in the company’s last appearance at the Mann) announced that Rojo had injured herself and wouldn’t be dancing the Odile; Roberta Marquez would dance the Black Swan act for the first time, partnered with Bonelli. Marquez immediately brought over her fiery Odile with control and flair. Much to both dancers’ credit, the fact that this was the first time was only noticeable in a couple of shaky pointe poses. Marquez hydrofoiled a little during Odile’s famous 32 fouettes— she only pumped out 30— but it hardly mattered, because everybody loved her by then. Rojo returned for the less physically demanding Act IV, a courageous decision considering the stakes of risking further injury.
The divertissement masked the ballroom scene, with the brilliant swirl of costumes for the dance of the Princesses, the Spanish dancers, Czardas Cossack corps (with those signature kneeled lunges) and gypsy tarantella, all in vivid danse coloratura.
To read Lewis Whittington's review of the Royal Ballet's Romeo and Juliet, click here.
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