Gurn loves Effy, Effy is engaged to James but James is away with the fairies: a recipe for love tragedy.
Tamara Rojo’s English National Ballet hasn’t danced August Bournonville’s La Sylphide since 1989 (before most of today’s dancers were born or thought of). The easy elevation and unshowy brilliance of the Danish style do not come naturally to them but their accents have improved since the dispiriting première in Milton Keynes last October. The character ensembles look perkier although the garish tartan choices make poor Effy’s big, fat Highland wedding look like a lock-in at a Royal Mile souvenir shop.
The sylph’s 18 sisters were unfailingly tidy but the sense of otherworldly lightness was missing. Weird women in white are a cornerstone of the romantic and classical repertoires. All serve a broadly similar purpose: a chance for choreographers to amplify themes and demonstrate the sheer magic of repetition and replication. But they aren’t all cut from the same length of tulle; Bournonville’s sylph is not just Odette in a longer frock.
I saw four sylphs.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in