And Everything (Really) Was Beautiful at the Ballet
Saturday. I have taken myself to the matinée of Birmingham Royal Ballet https://www.brb.org.uk/ ‘s SLEEPING BEAUTY, at Bristol Hippodrome.
Prologue
(I thought it was Act 1. Never mind.)
Curtain rises and there is an obelisk, upstage centre. This delights me, as my own dear town has an obelisk. I’m not quite sure what an obelisk is doing inside a royal palace, but this is a fairy tale. It’s strange that this royal obelisk is adorned with a rather paltry orb. OURS has a pineapple atop. (IYKYK).
The action has begun. The baby princess is carried onstage, presumably by a nanny, but for all the world as if she is a sack of potatoes rather than a precious royal princess. In fact, throughout this act, that baby is passed around so haphazardly, I am inclined to put in a call to Children’s Services.
But all is unfolding as it should, beautifully. Elegance is on display, precision, honesty and humour.
Carabosse arrives, attended by extras from Pirates of the Caribbean. Impressive, though. I very much enjoy some of their almost seafaring steps and shapes.
Much of the shaping is stunning, as are the set-piece still moments. This is what I come for.
Act 1
(When I thought I was in Act 2).
The beautiful rose opening. I already have a favourite soloist and I am thrilled to recognise her in this act. She breathes each note with every fibre of her being. Each move extends to the very end of the musical phrase and her face is adorned with the most radiant smile – pure joy shines so brightly from her face, I swear she could light the whole auditorium. When a performer is so clearly loving what they are doing, it really hits you as you sit in the auditorium. She has charisma and stagecraft in abundance, along with daunting technical precision. I hope she goes far.
At last, Aurora arrives. Petite and delicate yet a bundle of graceful energy. She does, however, make me nervous in the Rose Adagio – she doesn’t seem quite secure, unable to hold each of those attitudes for much more than a milli-second, grabbing onto the wrist of the next prince in line with visible relief. What the hell – it’s the most technically extreme of all dances, ever. Who am I to judge?
What she may lack, in this one performance, in bold confidence, she more than makes up for in her boundless charm, the lightness of touch and deft precision of her steps.
The dreaded spinning wheel appears (well, it’s not a wheel, it’s a spindle, I suppose) and we all know what’s coming. Again, it’s Aurora’s simple humanity in expressing her dismay that carries this part of the performance.
I regret that this choreography does not allow for Lilac Fairy’s full classical dance, but our choice, in her elegant, long costume, sends everyone to sleep with grace and hope.
Now, I know what the obelisk is for! Poor Aurora is gently laid against it to begin her 100-year siesta. No doubt Birmingham City Council’s budget cuts have left no funds for a bed, and there she half-lies, half lounges for a century. That’ll be some crick in her neck.
Act 2
(Three to me)
We meet Prince Charming. Not sure he needed quite such a tight costume in order that we recognise him as the manly hero of the piece.
I am immediately envious of one soloist sporting a beautiful scarlet riding outfit, reminding me of the time I wore a similar costume when I played Julia in The Rivals, an entirely forgettable performance.
Lilac Fairy is back, and introduces the Prince to Aurora via a dream sequence. Of course, he falls in love. This is where the dancer playing Aurora comes into her own. She fizzes across the stage effortlessly, oozing charm. There’s such an authentic tenderness between this Aurora and this Prince, it reaches far beyond the stage and surely touches each member of the audience; surely you’d have only the hardest of hearts not to notice.
Every now and then, three or four members of the corps link arms and dance a little ditty, as if to remind us that anything those cygnets in that other ballet can do, we can do just as well, thank you. The choreography of the corps, overall, is very reminiscent of that ballet set to Tchaikovsky’s other great oeuvre.
The dry ice machine is working overtime. Mist rolls over the stage into the orchestra pit and I fear for the musicians in the wind section.
What’s this? Carabosse and her deathly pirate henchmen return for an Elphaba-Glinda type face-off with Lilac Fairy.
But then the Prince, now no longer dreaming, discovers the abandoned castle, its sleeping inhabitants littering the place as if in the aftermath of a VERY good party.
He finds Aurora, bestows his kiss and everybody wakes.
Nobody seems to be sporting a hangover.
Act 3
(Yes, you know by now, I thought it was four…)
We’re at another party. This kingdom sure knows how to have a good time.
The passing of a century is recognised in the costumes of the female members of the corps – only they seem to have travelled backwards, Dr Who-like, their skirts resembling Elizabethan court dress. The men, however, are firmly rooted in the Regency era. I suppose anything other than a pavanne would be tricky in doublet and hose.
Oh – maybe the ladies are more Marie Antoinette. I doubt any of them will be eating cake.
This act is all about the showing-off. We have lords leaping, ladies spinning, Puss-in-Boots, Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, and a pair of Bluebirds. I swear the last time I saw this ballet there were three Bluebirds. More arts cuts, I suppose. It seems difficult to shift those Bluebirds from the stage. Male Bluebird – like the Prince, when he appears – just keeps coming back on stage to show us how high he can jump.
The Prince and Aurora spin impressively, majestically, through more complicated pas de deux. They really are a mesmerising pair.
As the whole thing draws to a close, an Arabian pair and another woodland creature join the festivities. We were teased with these earlier. Hang on, they didn’t dance! Were we robbed? Probably not enough time what with Bluebirds’ endless encores. Or more arts cuts.
Everyone lives happily ever after but, most importantly, they’ve dazzled us for two hours with passion, artistry and the sharpest, cleanest of lines and technique.
And I appear to have consumed more than half a packet of jelly beans.
Lady Valetta Writes 