Choreography by
Frederick Ashton
Designed by
Lila de Nobili
The Orchestra
of the Royal Opera
House conducted by
Richard Bernas
Ondine
Tamara Rojo
Palemon
Jonathan Cope
Berta
Elizabeth McGorian
Tirrenio
Ricardo Cervera
Act III
Divertissement
Mara Galeazzi
Jose Martin
Deidre Chapman
Isabel McMeekan
Jonathan Howells
Joshua Tuifua.
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Ondine
Hans Werner Henze
Royal Ballet
19 April - 24 May 2005
The consensus on Ashton's 'Ondine' is that it has some very good things in it - and this is true; as is the implication that it is otherwise unsuccessful, not least because the music (which greatly disappointed Ashton himself) largely fails, except in the storm of Act II and the divertissements of Act III. If anyone could rescue the passages in need of succour, it is Tamara Rojo, whose liquidly undulating arms and submarine fluidity are perfect instantiations of her part.
Ashton is a great story teller, and even here, with refractory materials, he manages to convey the haunting quality of the tale, and succeeds in conveying its ultimate poignancy well. But too much of the choreography is less than Ashton's best, and only the charm of Rojo and the unfailing solidity of Cope - helped by excellent staging - keeps the eye alert during the flatter passages.
The staging is marvellous. Act II's storm is almost the real thing: heaving seas, waves pouring over the deck rails, the sailors and passengers swaying to the pulse of the deep. The gothic gloom of Act III is a fitting frame for the fulfilment of love's fatal power; and the moonlight on the sea when Ondine emerges as Palemon thinks of her is a touch of magic.
But without question the best thing about the performance is Tamara Rojo, a dancer of enchantingly eloquent talent. Some are reminded by her of Fonteyn, not least because of her expressive acting; but she is distinctively individual as a dancer, with a lightness, quickness and grace that make her a quintessential ballerina. She can inhabit any role, from princess to pauper, from lost girl to ghost of the sea, because the stories flow through her as she flows through the music that makes her dance - like one of the bird's in Marvell's 'The Garden': 'waving in their plumes the various light', except in her case it is dance she weaves into the texture of sound.
Ricardo Cervera deserves a mention for his vivid, angry, energetic and vengeful Tirrenio, and Elizabeth McGorian is a convincing Berta, aristocratic and beautiful. The Act III Divertissement was a high pleasure, Jonathan Howells as usual shining brightly among some bright stars.
AC Grayling
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