© Rosalie O'Connor 'Raymonda' reviews Dvorovenko in reviews Ananiashvili in reviews recent ABT reviews more Eric Taub reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months)

Aside from the presence of Van Hamel, there's little in common between ABT's 'Raymondas' of twenty-nine years ago, and of today, other than some celebrated bits of Petipa's choreography, and Alexander Glazunov's often-glorious score. Holmes/McKenzie and their designer, Zack Brown, have remade Raymonda into something with the look, charm and substance of slightly damp confectionary. Brown's designs, while occasionally gorgeous, more often have the look of something out of a Disney fairytale, or, worse, a Raymonda Barbie® storybook, all shimmering spires and glistening battlements, presented behind an ornate aqua and gold proscenium, with matching occasionally see-through curtain. Not quite pale enough to be restfully subdued, or intense enough to inspire any emotional resonance, Brown's pastel greens, blues and pinks bring to mind a Maxfield Parrish that's been left out in the rain. (That the second-act interior decor of Raymonda's castle contains flourishes more evocative of art-Nouveau Vienna than the Middle Ages is yet another puzzlement.)

Wan colors would matter little if they set off a great story and dancing, but that MacKenzie and Holmes have similarly bled the passion out of 'Raymonda's' libretto. Instead of having Raymonda's intended, Jeanne de Brienne, away at the Crusades as she suffers, Penelope-like, the attentions of Abderakhman, an itinerant Saracen knight (who seems to have gotten his own deferment from the Holy Wars so that he may kite about Europe), this version has de Brienne present at Raymonda's unspecified birthday party, where Aberakhman's unexpected arrival makes him Yet Another Suitor, a point underscored as he and de Brienne perform tag-team partnering of Raymonda in what begins to look too much like a low-budget version of Aurora's Rose Adagio, right down to the promenades in attitude.

While 'Raymonda's' original libretto is certainly no work of genius, it at least presents the heroine as threatened by the rapacious Aberakhman's attempts to abscond with her, only to be rescued by the triumphant return of de Brienne, his soldiers and King Andrew II of Hungary. In ABT's current version, there's no real threat, no rescue, and no triumph, and Raymonda's great dilemma is not whether to keep faith with her pledge to the absent de Brienne despite her present danger, but whether to choose the handsome guy in the white tights or the handsome guy in the red tights. The last act (the ballet has been condensed to two) consists of each suitor presenting competing suites of national dances with which to woo the fair princess. That's right, Alexander Glazunov's glorious Hungarian dances have been demoted here from the triumphant celebration of the Saracen's defeat to just another divertissement. Abderakhman presents Spanish and Saracen dancers; de Brienne counters with his replendant Hungarians. Of course, it's always a delight when that czardas from heaven begins, but here it's a vastly diluted thrill. True, de Brienne and Abderakhman do fight a duel over Raymonda, but only after she's chosen de Brienne, danced the Grand Pas Classique with its famous hand-clapping solo, and, well, the ballet's almost over. It's an anticlimax, and an afterthought, as much as the syrupy love adagio Holmes has tacked onto the ballet's end for the two happily married lovebirds.

There's no real drama here other than the question of whom Raymonda will choose, and it's an indication of how badly Holmes and McKenzie have veered off-course that it seems that she makes the wrong choice this pretty-boy Jean de Brienne seems far less interesting than the passionate Abderakhman, who wields a meaner cape, too. In this context, the White Lady's admonishments for Raymonda to keep faith with her family's great values make no sense as there's nothing with which Raymonda must keep faith (although perhaps there's a generational preference for white vestments which she ignores at her peril). Indeed, this White Lady (more of a Rhinestone Lady, thanks to Brown's generosity with ornamentation) is the most intrusive piece of animated statuary since Il Commendatore, and certainly less relevant to the respective stories at hand.

The aforesaid notwithstanding, it really wouldn't matter much that this 'Raymonda' has a feeble plot as long as it's a serviceable frame for great dancing. After all, Glazunov's score is always lovely, and quite often magnificent, right? Well, yes and no. I made the mistake of preparing for this premiere by ordering the glorious recording of the entire ballet made in 1964 by Evgeny Svetlanov and the Bolshoi Orchestra. After hearing, at the opening-night gala, ABT's orchestra miraculously transform Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 2 (for 'Ballet Imperial') into something by Drigo, it wasn't a surprise, although certainly a disappointment, to hear Glazunov sounding too much like Minkus, as arranged, and conducted by, Ormsby Wilkins. It didn't help that the orchestra, under Wilkins' baton, seemed to momentarily get lost in the midst of the Grand Pas on Saturday night, something I've never heard, or even imagined, before.
 

Nina Ananiashvili in Raymonda
© Rosalie O'Connor

As far as the choreography, there are some nice bits, especially the traditional ones in the last act. However, Holmes and McKenzie seem to be of the opinion that one should never mime when when one can perform a grand jeté in tournant. True, we get to see a lot of dancing from the leads, but much of it is of little interest or consequence, other than to exhaust the principals in time for the really hard stuff (the two de Briennes I saw, Maxim Belotserkovsky and José Manuel Carreño, looked a bit peaked before the ballet's end). These are more than offset, at least in the first act, by vast, nondescript stretches (rendered more so by Steen Bjarke's often gloomy lighting). The ballet's murky dream scene is more than a bit pointless why does Raymonda need to have Jean de Brienne revealed to her in a dream when she just saw him before she fell asleep and, as with Christopher Wheeldon's recent 'Shambards,' there are moments eerily reminiscent of the dream ballet in 'Oklahoma!,' this time with Raymonda as Laurie, de Brienne as Curly, and Abderakhman as Judd. I guess some situations are truly universal. This dreary dream scene concludes with the not-inconsiderable accomplishment of putting Raymonda to sleep while she's already sleeping (its effect on the audience you might well imagine). And how does the Holmes/McKenzie duo accomplish this? By having Raymonda, the princess, the ballerina, curl up on her side, on the stage's filthy marly like a bag lady at the Port Authority bus terminal, with half of her tutu crushed beneath her, and the other half pointing upwards like the Titanic making its final plunge. This is so wrong it makes my teeth hurt. With all the staircases and tchochkes cluttering up the stage Brown couldn't have fabricated a bed, or a bower, or something? The worthless White Lady couldn't have given the poor girl a pillow?

Despite all of the above, there was some nice dancing in the two 'Raymondas' I saw. The Friday night premiere was led by Irina Dvorovenko as Raymonda, Maxim Belotserkovsky as Jean de Brienne, and Marcelo Gomes as Abderakhman. Dvorovenko was in full command of every arrow in her technical quiver, from solid balances, gorgeous flying-carpet split jetés and whiplash-inducing turns across the floor, and gave a clear portrayal of a young woman torn between the glamorous Saracen and dutiful de Brienne (she almost ran away with Abderakhman before sensibly waving him off). She didn't quite mature into the grandeur required in the Grand Pas Classique and hand-clapping "Princess" solo, appearing stiff and haughty instead. I do think she'll mature into a great Raymonda, and I'll be back for one of her later performances. She's certainly gotten the diva thing down perfectly: after a particularly tricky solo in the first act, she didn't just milk the audience for applause, she commanded them, sinking to her knee not once, but twice, as if to say "I earned those applause and the ballet's not going to continue until I get them!" Belotserkovsky danced with his usually appealing fervor and beautiful line, but at times seemed a bit overwhelmed by the many solos and demi-solos grafted onto his role. Marcelo Gomes' Abderakhman was appropriately dashing and passionate. In subsidiary roles, Michele Wiles and the former Kirov soloist, Veronika Part, danced Raymonda's friends, partnered by David Hallberg and Gennady Saveliev. I remember Part fondly as a gracious Lilac Fairy in the Kirov's 'Sleeping Beauty' shown a few years ago in New York, and more recently in Balanchine's Emeralds. At her debut in New York with ABT in 2002, she danced the second movement of 'Symphony in C,' showing a great love of the stage, as well as that she was clearly, and markedly, out of shape. Little seems to have changed with Part since then. Despite her beautiful long legs and other outstanding attributes, she's a bit of a mess: weak, sloppy and careless (could her toes find her knee in passé even with a roadmap?). A big woman, Part was clearly a challenge for Saveliev to partner, especially in the Grand Pas with its dreaded shoulder-lifts. It will be interesting to see what Part makes of Balanchine's 'Mozartiana' next week, and whether her innate love of performing and sense of drama can compensate for her alarming weaknesses. By comparison, Wiles, not always the most careful of dancers herself, was a model of precision. Hallberg danced with his familiar, long-limbed singing line, while Saveliev, if a bit deadpan, showed off his remarkably clean beats in one demi-solo. In the Hungarian dances, Maria Bystrova and Jesus Pastor were suitably flamboyant, although much of the choreography seemed a bit pedestrian compared with Balanchine's reworking of this material in his 'Cortege Hongrois.' (Zack Brown also dresses his Hungarian dancers in green and white, as does Karinska coincidence?). Carmen Corella did well enough in the thankless White Lady role a Lilac Fairy with little purpose other than to nag.

I've noticed a trend in ABT casting and performances over the past few years: Dvorovenko will do a bang-up job in a role, only to have Nina Ananiashvili completely overshadow her a day or two later, as Ananiashvili did Saturday night, partnered by José Manuel Carreño. Ananiashvili shows you Raymonda not simply as a supremely capable dancer (Dvorovenko might've turned a bit faster, but Ananiashvili leaped higher, especially in a stunning manége of sautes de basques and soaring grand jetés), but a commanding woman. I've never seen the "Princess" solo danced with more authority, residing in the carriage of her shoulders and arms, offset by her wit in the cute bits. Where Dvorovenko made Raymonda's series of hopping changements on pointe into a little virtuosa showpiece, Ananiashvili used them to portray a radiant young woman demonstrating her newly acquired strength and charm; the tricks were a means, not an end. In her radiance and assurance and understated glamor, Ananiashvili shows herself to be a great ballerina in the style of a Danilova or Makarova, and the brightest star in ABT's firmament.

Carreño was his usual magnificent self, with his array of awesome ever-slowing turns and catlike leaps. Gennady Saveliev's Abderakhman seemed a bit wooden, and perhaps he shouldn't work that showy "Flames of Paris" corkscrew leap into his every leading role.

Oh, and in a role which required little more than looking authoritative in one sumptuous dress after another, Martine van Hamel was indeed a welcome sight on Friday, as was Georgina Parkinson the next night.

With its strangely eviscerated drama, precious designs, problematic musicianship and fussily amended choreography, this new 'Raymonda' left me grieving over lost possibilities. Well, perhaps in another thirty years or so....