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Royal Ballet12th November 2003 London, Covent Garden by Ann Williams |
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If anything proves that Marius Petipa was a choreographic genius, ‘La Bayadere’ does. I must have seen this ballet at least a dozen times, and with every viewing I grasp a little bit more of the structural brilliance of the ‘Shades’ scene, and I now realise that the famed long line of girls snaking down the ramp in limpid arabesques, is not the point of it; what follows, that shaking out of the dancers like pieces of a jigsaw that magically fall into geometrically logical lines and shapes, is. Just the reassembling of the dancers into equal, clearly defined lines facing the audience is a choreographic sleight-of-hand that – it seems to me - not even Balanchine at his very best ever approached. And the RB corps on Wednesday pulled it off nearly brilliantly; a slight wobble here and there and a single dropped leg were the only faults, but they didn’t spoil the hypnotic spell we had been woven. The principals too wove their own spell. The (to me) unknown Roberta Marquez was a heartbreaking Nikiya, her eloquent arms, hands and shoulders effectively telling her wordless story. Her dancing was both clean and soft, and she’s something of a beauty; her high cheekbones, and huge eyes reminded me a little of the nervy Marion Tait. Deirdre Chapman’s Gamzatti was icily correct in the drama department, and quite beautiful in her dancing in the sad wedding scene solo (why sad here? I’ve never understood that - at this point in the story she thinks she’s got her man, so she should be triumphant). Ivan Putrov’s Solor was crisply danced and decently acted. His jumps seemed effortless, his spins and turns solidly centered and creamy; a real pleasure to watch. He was a great partner for Marquez, with easy lifts and sturdy support in her turns. His acting, too, is getting better; all round he seems to have gained much confidence and polish in recent months. Thiago Soares was the most attractive High Brahmin I’ve seen; this role is usually played with campy imperiousness, but Soares had a likeable masculine authority that made you wonder why Nikiya was rejecting him so vehemently. I wish now I had seen his Solor. A distraction for me in this performance was the lead Fakir, danced excellently by Kenta Kura; like the other ‘fakirs’ he seemed blasted by black coal dust; never have I seen the Fakirs as black this. They left stains all over the stage and I was quite worried that he would leave great soot marks on Nikiya’s white costume. Odd.
Elsewhere, the individual shades and odalisques were, mostly, beautifully danced, but the d’jampe girls seemed rather ragged on Wednesday; hopefully it was just a blip.
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