Rhapsody

Everything good about Ashton's choreography is summed up and stated in this late work, which is among the happiest and most vigorous of his creations. It is full of nuance and prettiness for the female dancers, full of athleticism and freedom for the male dancers - and each of these characteristics reaches a height in the principal roles. Ashton's genius for infusing athleticism into the classical vocabulary is wonderfully displayed in the demanding corkscrew jumps required of the male principal near the end, which have a thrilling air of inevitability about them given the driving physicality of all the male roles throughout; but any hint of earnestness is kept at bay by the humour, the suggested but never explicit thread of witty narrative and enjoyable romance that glimmers occasionally in what is otherwise an abstract dance.
      "Rhapsody" is a master-stroke of sustained virtuosity in conception. And in this exhilarating production the virtuosity lies in the execution too: Carlos Acosta's strength, grace, swiftness and poise is perfect for the role, and he performs it with magnificent flourish. The record tells us that when Baryshnikov danced the role at its premier he set a standard for insouciance, for nonchalance, that belied the range of its technical demands. The choreography was made on and for his personality; here Acosta makes the dance his own, wrapping itself round his own distinctive personality by seeming to transcend every one of its demands with ease. He dances it with relish, a proud luxuriance in the opportunity it provides for conquering the whole space of the stage. What had been a role for a small strong male principal here becomes a majestic act of fluent strength, as if it had been made for Acosta and no one else.
      Leanne Benjamin's lightness and fluidity are always entrancing, and like Acosta she has the knack of seeming joyfully abandoned even in technically difficult movement that calls on all her dancerly instincts to be produced well. For a piece so full of lifts and catches, in which the principals dance together in such swift transitions, the pairing of the principals matters: this one works very well, and is a delight to watch. As always with the depth of talent in the Royal Ballet company, the dozen supporting dancers, upon whom Ashton imposes roles of soloist complexity, perform with distinction and - what is always more important - beauty.

La Sylphide

It is an interesting question whether audiences notice how good is the play that underlies "La Sylphide", for all its cameo simplicity; it is a well-made narrative, everything that happens in it has a properly proportioned integral role in the structure, and the large set-piece dances fit naturally into the logic of the story in an entirely satisfying way. Moreover it supplies excellent opportunities for character dancing: the enticing, literally enchanting Sylphide, the bewildered, literally enraptured James, the happy innocence of Effie, the manly jealousy and yearning of Gurn, are all theatrically realistic and demand thespian as well as dance skills.
      Add the interest of Bournonville's choreography, with its intricate foot-work and its attractively expressive leaps, and the luscious and melodic Lovenskiold score, and the result can hardly fail to be richly enjoyable. All that is then needed is good dancing, especially from the Sylphide herself; and the reason why La Sylphide is acquiring a solid place in the Covent Garden repertoire (this is the fourteenth performance by the company, and it is hard to see how it could ever now be dropped) explains itself.
       Tamara Rojo is a beautiful dancer in both senses of the term, and almost always casts her spell just by going up on points. In this performance she was not her usual self. She was an earth-bound fairy, muted, not quite right; she did not take flight, and that cool self-possession which is a Rojo characteristic to enjoy in so many other roles gave little credibility to the idea that she was stealing James away from his betrothed because she felt an ideal love that crossed the boundaries of their worlds.
      Federico Bonelli is a good James; he has a neatness and quickness that suits the Bournonville style, and he is wholly plausible in his dilemma and the impulsive abandon that leads him to his fate. Laura Morera was a delightful Effie, brimming with youthful delight at her impending nuptials, fully of humanity and affection, and a strong foil to the magical allurement exerted by the Sylphide over her intended.
      Madge is a good opportunity for a tall male or female member of the company to ham it up, and Gary Avis does so with palpable enjoyment. In the big set pieces the company acquit themselves with high professionalism, and evidently find that the Bournonville manner fits their temperament well.
AC Grayling