Music by Ludwig Minkus
Orchestrated by John Lanchbery
Choreography by Natalia Makarova after Marius Petipa
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House conducted by Valeriy Ovsyanikov
Designed by Pier Luigi Samaritani
Nikiya Tamara Rojo
Solor Carlos Acosta
Gamzatti Alexandra Ansanelli
Magdavaya Kenta Kura
Bronze Idol Jose Martin
Artists of the Royal Ballet
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La Bayadére Royal Ballet
Covent Garden 13 Jan - 7 Feb 2009
A spectacular ballet - in the literal meaning of the term "spectacle" - needs a spectacular setting, and the Royal Ballet production of La Bayadere is most certainly that. The right design for a ballet has an effect on the performance: when the scene is grand, the story passionate, the emotional temperature set high by every circumstance, the dancers can be expected to respond. And this, magnificently, they do in this production. The three main roles of La Bayadere offer contrasting opportunities for expressive dancing. The majesty, control, athleticism and graceful power of Carlos Acosta is perfectly matched to the Solor role; add to it Acosta's great talents as an actor, and it is easy to understand why he sells out Covent Garden every time he appears. Solor is noble and masculine; his nobility makes him suitable as a husband for the Rajah's daughter, but filled with remorse at the injury done to La Bayadere by his breach of oath to her. His masculinity, a double-edged sword, makes him prey to the dazzling beauty of Gamzatti and her charm - "charm" the in the literal sense, again, of what casts a spell. The scenario is pure essence of what makes ballet and fairy-tales alike symbolically deep: how magic - the magic of feminine beauty above all - can be so destructive of bonds, even bonds of love sealed by oath. The explanation for the tragedy of La Bayadere, and of its final overcoming in the reuniting of Solor and Nikiya eternally in death, is the nobility and masculinity - vulnerable masculinity - of Solor. Acosta interprets this tragic duality with the accuracy that comes from instinctive understanding as well as conscious recognition: he feels the role, and in the subtlest of movements can convey a freight of emotion; he can tell a story by a pause, an interrupted gesture, a half-turn of the head. In the opium scene, before his dreams commence, he strikes an abandoned pose - and shows thereby that only the highest balletic gifts can make stillness a form of dance. Oceans of ink have been spilled on the exquisite talent of Tamara Rojo, and she deserves oceans more. She is distillation of prima: she is quintessence of ballerina. In every step the shape of her foot, her elastic frame, her liquid arms, her sensitivity, built on ability that transcends technique, compels the eye: it is scarcely possible to blink while watching her dance, in case one fails to catch a single movement. As the impassioned, betrayed Nikiya she has a role that beautifully serves her talents, and she sets the standard for it. The Gamzatti role belongs to the wonderful Marianella Nunez; she is nursing a foot injury, and so the role has passed to a rapidly rising star in the Royal Ballet company, Alexandra Ansanelli, who ravished audiences in the current season's Ondine with her beauty, charisma and energy. Her success as Gamzatti will be a further boost. She was very good in the role, which suits her: it needs a display of coldness, and her haughty, jealous, emotionally sharp-edged Gamzatti was finely perceived. Ansanelli is an enchanting presence on stage, with a line that, although it would not satisfy every expert or purist as to technique, is attractive and compelling. Although Jose Martin appears only in the cameo role of the Bronze Idol at the beginning of Act III, it is impossible not to mention him; what a great character dancer Martin is - how many Royal Ballet productions would be lesser things without his presence in important character roles, and when he dances principal roles he shows what he merits. (He was memorably excellent in the lead as James in La Sylphide a few years ago, usually dancing Gum - to perfection too, it might be added; and few can compete with his drunken Lescaut in Manon.) Applause is merited too by Kenta Kura's spirited (in every sense) Magdavaya, and whole cast danced with grace and poise, if not always with perfect synchrony - though the spell-binding descent of the corps at the beginning of Act II's second scene was pretty good in that respect. There is great strength in depth in this company, which makes an evening in the auditorium being entertained by them a very satisfying experience. A.C. Grayling
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