After a few thematically uneven mixed programmes, the Royal Ballet takes its summer leave from the Royal Opera House with a nearly ideal triptych of works. Central to it are stunning examples of 20th-century choreography, which highlight the role that British ballet played in both making and consolidating the Western modern ballet tradition. As such, this triple bill comes across as more connoisseur-oriented than a flashy crowd pleaser. Balletomanes still get their fair share of starry dancing, though, for each work provides the principals with plenty of chances to shine.
At the first performance, Lauren Cuthbertson and Sergei Polunin thrilled in Frederick Ashton’s Scènes de Ballet. Polunin negotiated the fascinating intricacies of the abstract choreography with an invigorating mix of panache and perfect aplomb, sailing marvellously through the sometimes quirky, if slightly unflattering ideas Ashton often created for his male dancers. Cuthbertson, for her part, looked absolutely perfect in the central solo this ballet is deservedly famous for. Despite some detectable nervous tension here and there, her rendition was a masterclass in what the often mourned English style ought to be. The corps de ballet, too, looked almost perfectly attuned to what remains one of Ashton’s most intriguing ballets, a quintessentially British take on Stravinsky’s music.
Although Glen Tetley was born and grew up artistically in the US, the influence of the British ballet tradition that he encountered while training with Antony Tudor is easily identifiable in many of his works. Voluntaries, to Poulenc’s haunting organ concerto, is an essay in abstract ballet-making that still stands out for the sense of uplifting mysticism that underpins the multifaceted choreographic ideas. Some might find the shining unitards and the pointillist/psychedelic set a tad too Seventies, but the seamless choreographic layout is timelessly inventive.
The performance I saw starred Leanne Benjamin and Sarah Lamb as the two principal ladies, and it was really exciting to see one follow the other. Benjamin is the ideal interpreter for this kind of repertoire, for she possesses a uniquely modern and utterly breathtaking legato quality, evident from the very beginning when she extends her limbs in an almost supernaturally flowing slow motion. Lamb, too, looked as if she had come from another dimension, impressing with her sustained balances and a powerfully dramatic drive. Their male counterparts, alas, were not as exciting, even though I could not help admiring the sound partnering qualities of Nehemiah Kish and Valeri Hristov.
The programme concluded on a high note with MacMillan’s version of The Rite of Spring, starring Steven McRae in the role of the chosen one, a role that had originally been created by the Royal Ballet’s artistic director Monica Mason. Like many other versions of the same ballet — more than a hundred have been created since Nijinsky’s first scandalous 1913 one — MacMillan’s has its pros and cons. Visually impressive and theatrically spectacular, it occasionally looks slightly dated, underscored as it is by the 1960s modernism that no longer shocks. Yet it stands deservedly as a choreographic milestone in the history of British ballet, and one can still see why. By the time the sacrifice takes place, viewers cannot help feeling intoxicated by the pulsating crescendo of wildness generated by the combination of Ter-Arutunian’s primitivist costumes, MacMillan’s powerfully choral dance-making and, obviously, Stravinsky’s irresistible score. As for McRae, his dancing was a riveting mix of animal prowess and ambiguous androgyny. I, like many, left the theatre feeling exhilarated.
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