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Matthew Bourne1st March 2005 London, Sadler's Wells by Graham Watts |
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As the crowd roared its approval loudly, I couldn’t help but wonder why I felt so reluctant to join in. There is so much to commend ‘Highland Fling’ that my lacklustre applause seemed somehow churlish. Then it struck me: I’ve chuckled along to ‘Carry on Nurse’ et al but I can’t quite grasp the concept of ‘Carry on Sylphide’. That is the rub with ‘Highland Fling’: one moment we are laughing at fluffy bunny hand-puppets cavorting in the undergrowth and the next we’re supposed to swoon at the blood-thirsty, dénouement (thankfully, offstage) of the Sylph’s tragic end. This juxtaposition of cuddly farce and nauseous high drama is too immediate. Where will it all end? I can’t shake off this image of Sooty suddenly appearing during Lady Macbeth’s descent into madness and asking for directions to the lavatory. I’m sure that there will be someone who will call that art but just remember where you read it first! Having said this, I have a huge fund of goodwill for Matthew Bourne and his company. He’s a showman and there is no-one to match his peculiar brand of theatre dance, owing much to Les Brotherston’s vibrant, sharp-angled, kitsch set designs. There is a particular economy of scale in Brotherston’s creation of wonderful spaces through these simple but effective sets. This version of ‘Highland Fling’ has been renovated since the ‘romantic wee ballet’ was first seen a decade or so ago: James and Effie’s wedding party has increased by four and the work has been re-choreographed to fit the larger cast. The ensemble dancing in Act II is especially strong: by now, the whole cast (with the exception of James) has transformed into Sylphs but these elemental spirits owe more to ‘The Evil Dead’ than the more traditional mythological maidens. I particularly enjoyed Kerry Biggin’s black-eyed, seedily desperate portrayal of the Sylphide: more nymphomaniac than wood nymph.
Excessive humour excepted, this revised version confirms Bourne’s unerring knack of successfully translating centuries-old stories into modern settings. It is daft, even ridiculous at times, but the updated narrative retains a sharp edge of social commentary and its colour and vibrancy linger on in strong afterimages. In terms of overall enjoyment, for me, it falls a long way short of both Bourne’s ‘Nutcracker!’ and ‘Swan Lake’ but, on reflection, it was still worth more than the paltry credit given in my stingy applause!
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