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The idea of revisiting the now legendary 1946 staging designed by Oliver Messel is an excellent one, for it combines a heartfelt tribute to history, both the company’s own and the ballet’s, with a celebration of the latest trends in performance tradition. The thunderous ovations that greeted the artistic director Monica Mason at the end of the opening night confirmed that there could not have been a better way to celebrate the company’s 75th birthday.
As I have said, it is more a revisitation than a revival, as the old production has not been brought back as it was, but rethought and redesigned with care. The biggest novelty is to be found in Peter Farmer’s Messel-inspired designs. The new/old sets neither overwhelm nor impinge on the choreography, as Maria Bjornsson’s ones did in the 1994 ‘Dowell’ production, nor do they come across as cold, as did Spinatelli’s unconvincingly modernist ideas for the immediately abandoned Makarova production. They create, instead, the perfect frame for the choreography, which they complement more or less magically and triumphantly throughout. I only wish the palette of pastel-toned colours had been more consistent throughout, for some of the costumes were in strident contrast to both the sets and the other costumes. Still, the final effect is that of a visually enticing fairytale picture book, which is neither too twee nor too brassy.
As for the choreography, the new production has reverted, after Makarova’s debatable incursion into the Soviet text, to the so-called British text, a lovely and stylistically enjoyable hybrid, in which sections signed by great dance-makers are cleverly and fluidly interwoven with the teachings of Sergeyev, former regisseur of Marius Petipa, the ballet’s original choreographer. As such it contains some great dance numbers, including a particularly captivating Garland Waltz by Christopher Wheeldon.
It is a pity that on the opening night some of the artists looked nervous and not at their best. In the Prologue, the male contingent was hardly in unison, and only Laura Morera and Marianela Nuñez stood out in that splendid example of 19th-century choreography that is the good fairies’ pas de six. All the other interpreters lacked the refined approach required by each of those solos, thus thwarting the hopes of those who were eagerly looking forward to savouring once again the beautiful, neat footwork the old Royal Ballet production was once famous for. More than once, important steps were either omitted or hurriedly performed. Even Alina Cojocaru, a superb Princess Aurora, did not do full justice to the choreographic filigree of her first act’s solo. Luckily, she performed the rest impeccably, beautifully partnered by Johan Kobborg, a truly noble dancer.
Mime scenes, so important within this ballet, looked hurried and fairly unimpressive, too. Penalised by what is arguably the least successful costume of the whole production, the wicked fairy Carabosse, Genesia Rosato, caused little or no stir with mime gestures that lacked definition and drive. As her ‘good’ opposite, Nuñez was one of the most radiant interpreters of the Lilac Fairy I have seen, but she, too, performed some odd movements in the ‘vision scene’ in Act II, thus undermining the intense pathos of the moment. As for the character dances in the final act, these were competently executed but lacked the sparkle they ought to have had. And, in my view, the final apotheosis, on which the ballet’s creators had insisted, is a bit of a let-down. There is no doubt that things will improve with time, and I am more than willing to go back for a second and, hopefully, a third look.
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