© NBoC National Ballet of China 'Le Corsaire' reviews 'Le Corsaire' reviews 'Red Detachment of Women' reviews recent National Ballet of China reviews more Natasha Rogai reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months) A version of this review previously appeared in the South China Morning Post.

Le Corsaire is one of the great 3 act ballets choreographed by Marius Petipa in Saint Petersburg in the 19th century, but apart from its renowned pas de deux, that staple of galas and ballet competitions, the work was little known outside Russia until Oleg Vinogradov staged a sumptuous new version for the Kirov Ballet in 1987. Taking the ballet world by storm, the production has since entered the repertoire of many companies. The plot is a cheerful farrago of nonsense loosely based on an epic poem by Byron. Set in an Arabian Nights Middle East, it involves a noble, dashing pirate (the Corsair of the title), a foolish, fat Pasha, a wily slave trader and above all, legions of gorgeous girls who dance, dance, dance.

Vinogradov’s stroke of genius was to combine lavish production values and superb classical dancing with comedy, acknowledging the absurdity of the story and refusing to take it seriously. This blend of the spectacular with the comic is a tough act to pull off, and this production falls woefully short in a number of areas. Costumes and sets look tacky, the crowd scenes are underpopulated, and much of the acting is rudimentary - the production fails to capture the irony and sense of mischief that make the Kirov’s Corsaire such a delight. The massive coil of rope with which Lankedem the slave trader is bound to good comic effect is reduced to what looks like a piece of thick string. Even the Pasha is too thin.
 

However, Le Corsaire’s real glory lies in its dancing, particularly for the women, and the evening was redeemed by good performances from the two leading ballerinas. As the heroine, Medora, Meng Ningning danced and acted well, and shone in the lyrical passages, showing outstanding port de bras and exceptional balances in the Garden of Living Flowers sequence. The technically demanding soubrette role of Gulnara was taken by Cao Shuci, only 18 years old and still in the corps de ballet. Fast, light and fluid in movement, with a charming personality, Cao is a talent to watch for the future. The showpiece pas de trois for the Three Odalisques, on the other hand, was disappointingly lacking in classical style or technical brilliance.

In the title role, Hao Bin was a stalwart, manly hero, Wu Yan produced some exciting jumps and spins as Ali in the grand pas de deux, and there was some strong character dancing from Lu Na and Wang Yitong.

The company looked infinitely more at home in their second programme, the grand old Communist warhorse The Red Detachment of Women. Dating from the Cultural Revolution, this quintessential propaganda piece is set in Hainan during the Civil War (1927 to 1937). It tells the tale of Qianghua, a poor peasant girl who defies the wicked landowner and is beaten and left for dead by his retainers. She is saved by revolutionaries and, converted to their cause, joins the Red Detachment of Women. The landowner is finally defeated and the people triumph, after noble Party Representative Hong Changqing is tortured to death rather than betray his comrades.

As the plot summary suggests, Red Detachment is far from subtle, and many scenes may seem risible to a more sophisticated audience, particularly those involving uniformed girls with rifles drilling en pointe. Nonetheless, it retains its energy, and the company dance and act with a commitment that overcomes much of the potential silliness. The piece works well as theatre, the story clearly told, the characters boldly delineated. The designs are excellent (if you overlook the fetching shorts which form part of the Red Detachment’s uniform) and the music enjoyable.
 

The choreography is simple and somewhat repetitive, but effective. The company has exceptional elevation, and there is nothing quite like the visceral thrill of watching dozens of dancers soaring across the stage in a series of grand jetés, or ballerinas doing that spectacular Plisetskaya jump en arabesque where the foot hits the back of the head.

Jin Jia as Qianghua and Lu Na as the Company Commander give suitably intense portrayals of stern, revolutionary women, and Jiang Wei is splendidly villainous as the leader of the landowner’s thugs. The great actor-dancer Sun Jie transcends his material to make Hong Changqing’s death scene a moment of memorable dramatic power.

A version of this review previously appeared in the South China Morning Post.