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‘La Fete etrange’, Andree Howard’s depiction of a section of Alain-Fournier’s novel ‘Le Grand Meaulnes’, shows a young boy, wandering in the forest, who stumbles across an engagement party and unintentionally destroys the bride-to-be’s relationship. The innocence and warmth shown by the boy is one of the features that extends to the second ballet, where Pierrot learns about himself and about others through his own ignorance which is caused by innocence.

‘La Fete etrange’ is set amongst swathes of luscious green drapes, mirrored by the pretty and feminine costumes which are offset by the Bridegroom’s dark, unadorned suit. Christopher Saunders as the Bridegroom had very little to do except stride around looking fierce and perform some lifts, but as always he carried off the role well. Darcey Bussell, although surely still on form, could have had more dramatic prowess; although my seat was a long way away from the stage, her anguish at a failed engagement failed to transmit to the back of the house. Another quibble, if a small one: Bussell’s shoes. This quintessentially romantic (almost gushy) ballet was spoilt slightly by the incessant noise of the tapping of new pointes.

Ricardo Cervera did admirably well – the choreography was littered with difficult pirouettes and he corrected himself as he performed them. He was noiseless and graceful, portraying the inquisitive nature of the Boy and the subsequent heartbreak with style. The corps de ballet floated around in romantic tutus, luring the Boy to the ‘Fete etrange’ in an essentially sylph-like manner, adding a sense of mysticism to the ballet. For some reason I was reminded of ‘Blithe Spirit’ – the ballet retained the same ghostly atmosphere that mingles with real life and causes and uncanny, semi-supernatural feeling. For me, it was also evocative of other ballets, namely ‘La Valse’, ‘Ballet Imperial’, ‘Giselle’ and especially ‘Lilac Garden’. The choreography was dull in places, and although it was choreographed in 1947, which explains my next point, it did seem enormously old-fashioned.

The choreography was in some parts difficult and physically demanding – Deidre Chapman and Sarah Lamb had a series of very tricky consecutive sections to perform, including a lovely duet to a vocal solo, performed by Mary Nelson. They also had some challenging adage sections to deal with, where they were required to reproduce what was going on in the central pas de deux, but unsupported and off pointe. Praise should also go to Yohei Sasaki, the third part of the ‘Mandolin’ trio with Chapman and Lamb, who as always was energetic, powerful and impressive.

This ballet seemed to be lost on the audience. It was perhaps too old-fashioned for impact, and another huge factor in its effect was Faure’s modest score, which kept the mood on a level where a more dramatic score could have lifted it slightly.

The second ballet, ‘Pierrot Lunaire’ (1962), showed off the talents of Ivan Putrov excellently. Tetley’s use of the tower is clever and impressive, although the tower seemed quite unstable last night! Putrov, agile and graceful, scaled the tower effortlessly, while projecting the oddly misplaced character of Pierrot. His line is near perfect – one minute he is showing a faultless arabesque, the next he is rolling around the stage joyously, only to be heartbroken in the next. The key to Pierrot’s character is the unconditioned nature of his emotions, which means he has to learn through bad experiences, surely a comment on adolescence.

Deidre Chapman, appearing in her second ballet of the night, was as energetic and dynamic as ever. Her varied and interesting dance background shines through when she is put in less ‘classical’ pieces, and the role of Columbine is perfectly suited to her. My impressions of the character were that she is a young woman as seen through a man’s eyes, playing a power game as she grows and matures. Chapman was stylish and flirty, self-absorbed and at times funny. Her initial exchanges with Pierrot were almost tender, and his desolation when she storms away in a comic, childlike manner, is heartbreaking. Her transformation into the ‘red’ version of Columbine was impressive, and her seductive power over the hapless Pierrot was easy to believe.

Pierrot’s desire for love and battle with confusion is exploited by Brighella, the clown of ‘experience.’ Carlos Acosta was technically sound in the role but in the absence of huge jumps and multiple pirouettes, his usual astonishing way of dancing failed to register. He was outshined by the other two protagonists in terms of drama. However, his entrance, enhanced by a black cloak over his head and arms, was suitably sinister, and the argumentative interplay between him and Pierrot was intriguing and strangely touching. Pierrot is stripped of his innocence, absorbed by the experienced Brighella and his accomplice, the mature, sexy Columbine.

Schoenberg’s music must have been a shock for people who arrived solely for the prospect of ‘Marguerite and Armand’. Soprano Linda Hirst performed it beautifully, and I do not feel that the music itself was as dire as many have said it was. It suited the ballet precisely, and the edgy, uncertain nature of the music mirrored the onstage struggle.

‘Marguerite and Armand’ was, as always, pleasing and timeless. Sylvie Guillem was sublime as Marguerite, displaying her skill as an actress as well as her athleticism. I find it interesting that she was chosen to carry on the legacy of Fonteyn’s Marguerite, because the two are so diametrically opposite in terms of physicality, Fonteyn showing us the ideal, womanly, beautiful romantic heroine, many would argue physically unimpressive but dramatically magnificent, whereas Guillem embodies the modern physical dream for many of today’s young dancers. What links the two ballerinas is their unquestionable skills as actresses, and Guillem never fails to impress.

There is one word that sums up Massimo Murru as Armand – dashing. He is a good match for Sylvie Guillem, in terms of both technique and drama. He executed perfect pirouettes and spot-on balances, and his sobbing over Marguerite’s body as the curtain fell was touching and intense. The ballet is only 32 minutes long, and for a narrative ballet to stir up so much emotion in such a short time is rare, and quite an achievement, and this is what gives Marguerite and Armand its status and success.

Although a questionable combination of ballets, this was an enjoyable evening, and many fine individual performances. The confusion/boredom of the audience seemed to have subsided by the end, when Guillem and Murru received their customary cheers after a fine performance of the ballet that I suspect was the only one that many of the audience wanted to see.