'La Fete Etrange' reviews RB 'Pierrot Lunaire' reviews 'Pierrot Lunaire' reviews 'Marguerite' reviews Bussell in reviews Putrov in reviews Acosta in reviews Chapman in reviews Guillem in reviews Murru in reviews recent RB reviews more Lynette Halewood reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months)

Fête Etrange is based on an episode in the novel Le Grand Meaulnes by Alain-Fournier, a short, lyrical work set in rural France in the 1890s. It is many years since I read this and I didn’t recall many of the details, only a general atmosphere of adolescent yearning and the loss of a vision of something wonderful briefly granted but irretrievably lost. Looking at this ballet through a haze of memory seemed appropriate somehow. Howard’s work also seems to come to us from a different age, with different, gentler conventions and manners than ours.

The 30-minute work presents us with a condensed episode from the novel with extraneous details stripped away. A boy (Ricardo Cervera) comes upon wedding celebrations taking place, is invited in by the community, and is entranced by the bride (Darcey Bussell) and dances with her. The groom, rather older than the bride, and proprietorial rather than affectionate towards her, takes offence, and the result is grief and misery for all.

The designs for the work are by Sophie Fedorovitch, a frequent collaborator with Ashton. They are typically simple and restrained and yet evocative: the women’s costumes are dreamily wonderful with huge soft swirling skirts and delicate colours. They certainly complement the softness and delicacy of the choreography: the women float through the air and rise and fall with finesse rather than force.

Darcey Bussell as the bride looks wonderful and her dancing has a lushness and creamy fullness to it, and she bourées across the stage as if impelled by only the slightest breeze. Lovely as she is, I suspect there are greater depths and complexities in the bride’s character which could emerge from future performances. She looks more convincing on her initial entry moving pensively across the stage before she encounters the other protagonists than she does when entangled with them. Cervera is the boy: physically he looks slight next to Bussell though that seems appropriate in this context. His quickness and lightness are suited to the steps. A pas de trois featured Chapman, Sasaki and Lamb.

I have long been curious about these “other” choreographers that contributed to the creation of ballet in Britain. To what extent were they different or distinct from Ashton, or is his style in fact an “English” style which they all shared in and contributed to some degree? After a single viewing of Howard’s work I am perhaps better able to frame some more specific questions but still not to answer them. Are the low lifts, where the women are raised just a foot above the floor, the pliancy of the upper body derived from Ashton’s style, a deliberate choice by Howard, or the result of using the same narrow pool of dancers at the time the work was made in the 1940s ? I still feel uncertain about what her personal voice was, though was the elegant sculptural grouping of three girls in grey seemed to have a very individual flavour

The work was intriguing at an initial glance, though by no means as involving or as touching as it might be, or could perhaps be when the dancers get further under its skin. The shadows of untimely early death hang over it: Sophie Fedorovitch died in 1953 in an accident, Andrée Howard died at only 58, and Alain-Fournier was killed in the First World War shortly after writing his only novel.

Compared to the gentle strains of Fauré for the Howard work, the Schoenberg which Pierrot Lunaire is set to is challenging stuff which sets the teeth on edge. Nevertheless it seems weirdly appropriate for this strange power struggle between three characters loosely based on commedia dell’arte figures.

Pierrot Lunaire is a work closely associated with Rambert Dance Company in the UK and frequently revived by them. It is mounted here for the first time by the Royal to commemorate Glen Tetley’s 80th birthday, and he appeared for the curtain call looking delighted with the results. UK audiences already have had opportunities to gain a fair degree of familiarity with the work, and the interest here is how classically trained dancers take on a work in contemporary style.

It is all quite familiar to Deirdre Chapman who performed in this relatively recently when she was a member of Rambert and looks totally at ease (fearless, rather) in her role as Combine, alternately a kind and nurturing figure and a betraying harlot. It is much more a journey for Ivan Putrov as Pierrot and Carlos Acosta as Brighella, his tormentor.

Putrov appeared to be firmly a purely classical dancer on joining the Royal: a few years ago you would never have expected to find him dangling from the scaffolding tower as Pierrot, but there he was. As well as the expected vulnerability and awkwardness there was a child like sense of naughtiness and mischief at times that I’ve not often registered in previous readings of the part. It’s a killer of a role, never absent from stage with barely a breather. He got a terrific reception from the audience.

Carlos Acosta with his innate forcefulness and barely contained energy is perhaps all too easy to imagine as Brighella, who naturally gets the girl and humiliates Pierrot in the process. He could in fact turn down the volume a little – if anything his projection is too powerful at present. He partners Chapman with casual strength and she flings herself at and around him with abandon.

The evening concluded with Ashton’s Marguerite and Armand, revived once more. Sylvie Guillem has a new partner, Massimo Murru as Armand. He seemed pleasantly unawed by the role and the dancers that have previously undertaken it and there was a freshness and spontaneity about him which was very refreshing, even if some of the finer edges of the steps were sometimes blurred. Other casting remains unchanged from many previous performances – David Drew returns as Armand’s father in one of those small roles which are seldom remarked on but are still crucial.

Marguerite and Armand is sometimes criticised as a mere vehicle for its stars, but Ashton’s conciseness and ability to get to the core of the matter are perfectly illustrated in it. In other versions of the story, Marguerite is persuaded to give up her lover as her association with him is preventing the marriage of his sister and her happiness means someone else’s distress. In the ballet, Armand’s father, superbly confident in his superiority, confronts Marguerite and makes two simple hand gestures to illustrate – you see all of this ? Impossible. Faced with the weight of the establishment she crumples. It’s all done in a few seconds and yet it’s much more believable.

A decidedly varied evening in terms of music and approaches to telling a story. Alternative casts and future performances should be interesting for the different perspectives they can bring.