November 11, 2005
Currently showing at the New Theatre, English National Ballet’s production of Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty is something of a mixed treat. Dramatic, glittering, with sumptuous costumes and some truly exquisite dancing, it nonetheless presents something of a challenge to any non-expert present in the overheated auditorium of the New Theatre.
Ballet is generally seen as something of a child-friendly theatre experience, but in spite of the obvious appeal of little-girl glamour, I’ve never quite understood why anyone would risk putting their kids through it. Definitely on the long side, with two intervals only providing extra time for the consumption of ice-cream (demonstrably not easy on the stomachs of the young audience), The Sleeping Beauty requires a great deal of stamina.
For this production, the English National Ballet have resurrected Kenneth MacMillans’ original choreography (after Marius Petipa). The problem with classical choreography is that it’s a bit limiting. And all the best movements tend to be stored up for the star artists. As the story’s dealt with summarily in the 1st and 2nd acts, leaving the 3rd act and a substantial prologue to be filled entirely with cameo dances from fairies, court entertainers, etc, the beginning and end of the production was rather an ordeal of glittery but stilted jigging about. Rather like a chocolate box containing too many fruit creams. The other problem with classical ballet is that you need the set-pieces of the corps de ballet to happen with an inhuman mechanical synchronicity and rather surprisingly for the English National there were one or two minor wobbles and mistimed leaps.
On the other hand, Elena Glurdjidze (Aurora) was dazzling. As the 16 year old ingénue in sparkly pink, the Prince Desire’s mystic vision in sparkly white, or the triumphant bride in sparkly cream, there was emotion and extraordinarily expressive grace in every movement. Carabosse also, dragged on in arcane chariot by agile masked demons, was fabulously nasty: truly horrible, powerful, with preternaturally bendy hands and every accoutrement of the evil fairy. We would have liked to have seen more of her, and a bit less of the, to modern tastes slightly smug, lilac fairy. For these performances alone the production is well worth the price of a ticket – which can be had for as little as £10.
Ballet is generally seen as something of a child-friendly theatre experience, but in spite of the obvious appeal of little-girl glamour, I’ve never quite understood why anyone would risk putting their kids through it. Definitely on the long side, with two intervals only providing extra time for the consumption of ice-cream (demonstrably not easy on the stomachs of the young audience), The Sleeping Beauty requires a great deal of stamina.
For this production, the English National Ballet have resurrected Kenneth MacMillans’ original choreography (after Marius Petipa). The problem with classical choreography is that it’s a bit limiting. And all the best movements tend to be stored up for the star artists. As the story’s dealt with summarily in the 1st and 2nd acts, leaving the 3rd act and a substantial prologue to be filled entirely with cameo dances from fairies, court entertainers, etc, the beginning and end of the production was rather an ordeal of glittery but stilted jigging about. Rather like a chocolate box containing too many fruit creams. The other problem with classical ballet is that you need the set-pieces of the corps de ballet to happen with an inhuman mechanical synchronicity and rather surprisingly for the English National there were one or two minor wobbles and mistimed leaps.
On the other hand, Elena Glurdjidze (Aurora) was dazzling. As the 16 year old ingénue in sparkly pink, the Prince Desire’s mystic vision in sparkly white, or the triumphant bride in sparkly cream, there was emotion and extraordinarily expressive grace in every movement. Carabosse also, dragged on in arcane chariot by agile masked demons, was fabulously nasty: truly horrible, powerful, with preternaturally bendy hands and every accoutrement of the evil fairy. We would have liked to have seen more of her, and a bit less of the, to modern tastes slightly smug, lilac fairy. For these performances alone the production is well worth the price of a ticket – which can be had for as little as £10.