![]() |
![]() 3rd February 2005 London, Covent Garden by Ami Shah |
||||||||
The greatest joy in seeing MacMillan’s choreography is that it is able to express the deepest of human emotions through movement. This is perhaps most obviously seen in his non-narrative work – Song of the Earth and Requiem come to mind. Yet, when it comes to his blockbuster three-act ballets, we want acting, and we want it done well. No melodrama, no inconsistency. We want to know the character, feel their turmoil in our blood, and leave feeling shattered. Such is a good night at a MacMillan ballet. Thursday night’s opening of Manon delivered. The fine acting was nuanced, allowing the choreography to tell the story and quick glances to capture our hearts. We see Manon’s realisation of the powers of her own beauty, feel Des Grieux’s love and heartbreak, and are properly upset by GM’s advances and tactics. A few small details fixed, and this would have been one for the history books. The Royal Ballet as a company is currently blessed with its picking of dance-actors who not only entertain us with their variations but complete the story line and provide a believable setting for the main plot. Jose Martin as the Beggar Chief is in his element: bare-footed, devilish grin, and wild hair. Belinda Hatley, Laura Morera, Sian Murphy, and Christina Elida Salerno were sexy-yet-demure courtesans, with special mention for Murphy for her competitive streak. Yohei Sasaki was a sweet gentleman, unsure of which woman he should be paired with at Madame’s party, and Christopher Saunders proved to be absolutely hilarious as the client chasing the girl (?) in trousers. Mara Galeazzi played Lescaut’s Mistress with bravura and an excellent display of comic timing. Sylvie Guillem provides a clear and believable interpretation of Manon to complement her impeccable technique. From the moment she steps on stage, we are aware of her as a woman. Slightly timid as she takes her first steps, caught-off-guard by the attention she receives, her realisation of the powers of physical beauty is captivating. For her, this is empowerment and intoxication. Others see the magic that her Manon creates, and they want to own it for themselves – no sharing. Who could blame them? As Lescaut to Guillem’s Manon, Thiago Soares is morally torn between the material riches provided by Manon’s beauty and the actual thought of the price his sister is paying. Others may touch, but not for too long – and his drunkenness at Madame’s party appears to be the only way he can deal with Manon’s situation. Soares, full of dramatic ability, simply needs to believe in himself in this role – what appeared to be first-night jitters (again, who could blame him – partnering Guillem!) made him seem to be somewhat tense, making his opening solo not as dynamic as we are used to for him and his drunken scene almost manically violent. Yet, he aptly shows his desire to own his sister’s power, and his willingness to also help her follow her true love. Monsieur G.M., however, is not willing to make compromises. Anthony Dowell’s portrayal of G.M. is disturbing to say the least. Dark, sinister, sleazy, and powerful, G.M. will provide anything to own the sexy young Manon. He relishes in the attention she – and thus he – receives, but demands her loyalty. When he realises that money can’t buy love, he will then do anything to prevent her from giving her love. Even William Tuckett, in an excellent performance as the Gaoler, is not looking just for sexual favours – he wants Manon. He is just as intoxicated by her as those before him. Already in a position of power and strength, he has no need to offer Manon the bracelet to obtain his physical satisfactions – he is either inciting her or wooing her. In Tuckett’s case, it’s wooing through the only means the Gaoler has. Yet it’s Jonathan Cope’s Des Grieux who ultimately owns Manon in this performance. An established and secure partnership, Guillem and Cope are still willing to take risks and push each other, allowing them to display the physicality of MacMillan’s choreography to the extreme. Here, Guillem’s intoxication with material goods again appears to be a deeper intoxication with the power that she holds. Manon and Des Grieux, though in love, cannot understand each other. In exchange for her, Des Grieux offers only himself, while others offer diamonds and furs. Manon does not understand why she should not have it all, and Des Grieux cannot fathom why she needs it all. Manon learns the hard way, and in the end concedes. Guillem discards of her bracelet over the dying body of the Gaoler with the same flick of the wrist that Cope used to try to convince her to leave it behind in the first place – she is not saying that she will not take money, but rather that she no longer needs it.
With Cope as Des Grieux, the only issue remaining is why it took her so long to come to that decision. The highlight of the evening was his opening solo, solid and steady, as the music seemed to emanate from his dancing. MacMillan uses a simple arabesque to convey everything from hope to despair, and in this Cope pulls no tricks. The classical, pure line of his arabesque is as simple and honourable as Des Grieux’s love. He follows Manon’s every step, glances at her with desire and timidity; ultimately creating the ideal that every girl dreams of, and that Manon finally realises is hers.
|
|||||||||
|
|||||||||
|
|||||||||