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Music
by
Pyotr Ilyich
Tchaikovsky
Choreography
by
Marius Petipa
Additional
choreography by
Frederick
Ashton
Anthony Dowell
Christopher Wheeldon
Production
by
Monica Mason
Christopher Newton
after
Ninette de Valois
Nicholas Sergeyev
Orchestra
of the
Royal Opera House
conducted by
Sergey Levitin
Princess
Aurora
Roberta Marquez
Prince
Florimund
Rupert Pennefather
Carabosse
Genesia Rosato
Lilac
Fairy
Isabel McMeekan
Artists of
the Royal Ballet and Royal Ballet
School
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Royal
Opera House
Covent Garden
15
May - 3 June 2006 |
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It will
not be many years before The
Sleeping Beauty
receives its thousandth performance
at Covent Garden, perhaps
with an additional touch to
its choreography here, and
to its design and staging
there; but no matter what
adjustments are made to this
perennial classic, the thousandth
performance will have what
the first had: the distilled
essence of fairy-tale which
purveys a romantic dream of
hope: that fate is conquerable,
that evil will be overcome
by goodness, and that love
triumphs over everything in
the end.
The Royal Ballet's Sleeping
Beauty
is a thing of beauty itself.
Costumes and set cast the
first spell, Tchaikovsky casts
the second, and exquisite
dancing by Roberta Marquez
as Aurora completes the magic.
In the resources required
for telling the tale there
are sumptuous opportunities
for a choreographer - the
rat attendants on wicked Carabosse,
and Carabosse's evil attitudes,
are telling cases in point;
heart-sore, yearning Prince
Florimund is another; the
youth, beauty, joy, fragility,
virginity and awakening of
Aurora are a third - and between
them this production's several
choreographers have enjoyed
taking them.
In the Prologue there remains
something of Petipa's chief
failing, an over-reliance
on static mime. But there
is a scene to be set, and
the Prologue achieves that
end. Genesia Rosato's Carabosse
lights up the stage with her
imposition of a wicked destiny,
and Isabel McMeekan's serenely
charming Lila Fairy mitigates
the harm thus done.
In the first act everything
belongs to Aurora, and Roberta
Marquez dances enchantingly,
putting behind her the difficulties
momentarily caused by those
technically demanding balancings
she must execute with her
suitors. Some ballerinas are
excellent actresses as well
as dancers; some achieve narrative
through the dance alone, others
with their hearts in their
faces and hands as their feelings
fill their movement. Marquez
belongs to the latter category.
As Aurora she faints, stumbles
and falls after the spindle's
prick, taking the anxious
audience with her to the ground;
she seems really to swoon,
and the charm she had diffused
as she danced joyously beforehand
seems to return inwards on
her as she lies in a sleep
that mimics death.
Hats off to Rupert Pennefather,
who replaced the injured Ivan
Putrov and made the role his
own. He was assured, neat,
definite and strong. In Act
II he was first enervated
by melancholic longing, then
spellbound by the vision of
Aurora brought to him by the
Lilac Fairy; and then, in
Act III, he was the handsome
self-assured Prince in his
finest nuptial hour, majestically
united with his bride.
The Royal Ballet is good at
ceremonial and festivity,
weddings and country dances,
climactic happy moments, tableaux
forming themselves out of
a whirl of movement. This
is another thing The
Sleeping Beauty
offers choreographers, and
whoever is responsible for
the closing scene must have
enjoyed arranging "happy
ever after" in a configuration
of dancers.
It would be a hard heart and
a bleak soul that failed to
enjoy the Royal Ballet's
Sleeping
Beauty.
This was a highly satisfying
performance of it, and a visual
feast.
AC Grayling |
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