Thursday 10 March 2016

Where No Man Should Ever Go

For the third time in its history, the National Ballet has mounted a new production of the classic Romantic ballet La Sylphide.

Note:  This is NOT to be confused with Les Sylphides, a much later work by Michel Fokine which basically sets the music of Chopin to an abstract classical dance by an ensemble and soloists.


This is certainly the best-known and most often performed of the great ballets by the gifted Danish choreographer August Bournonville.  The "Bournonville style" is indeed unique, so the use of the master's name to identify it is fully warranted.  The keynotes are graceful movement, elaborate footwork, a distinct folk element in the dances of the corps de ballet in particular, the ballon (light, floating character in the leaps) and an almost total absence of the high-energy gymnastics which characterized the later Russian school (exemplified by the work of Marius Petipa).  In this particular ballet, there are two characteristic moves repeated over and over by more than a few of the dancers: the entrechat and the grand jete.



This version has been staged for the company by the Danish choreographer Johan Kobborg.  It was originally created for the Royal Ballet in 2005.  The intriguing feature of Kobborg's version is that he has recovered and used some portions of music, with Bournonville's notes for what happens during them, that have lain unused throughout the work's recent stage history.



The music is principally by Herman Lovenskjold, with insertions by other composers.  It is agreeably tuneful, dramatically dark and intense when warranted, and notable for the beautiful use of horn chords to construct extended melodies in several places.


It's when we come to the libretto that we run smack into the Romantic character of the story.  Its roots lie in the rich trove of folklore of many lands, although the story in this case is set in Scotland (as a 3rd-generation Scots-Canadian, I am certainly not complaining!).  The basic idea can be easily related to such diverse works as Mendelssohn's concert overture The Fair Melusina, Dvorak's Rusalka, and Richard Strauss' Die Frau Ohne Schatten.  In each of these tales, a mortal man attempts to woo and win an immortal woman -- with potentially disastrous results.

I've no doubt that a book could be written, along the lines of current sociological thinking, explaining how this recurrent story line exemplifies the male maltreatment of the female, which he blames on the "fact" that she has lured and ensnared him.  I'd be inclined to agree, except for one problem.  In this particular example, the ending of the ballet makes it abundantly clear that the man is solely responsible for the sad outcome of the tale, and has no one to blame but himself.

Well, enough sociology.  Let's get right on with the actual performance.

Getting the "look" right for La Sylphide is important.  It was premiered in 1836, the height of the first great flowering of Romanticism.  Desmond Heeley's sets lovingly re-create that period.  The first act is set in a huge, dark baronial hall -- really far too grand for anything less than a Duke.  Certainly a farmer like James wouldn't live in such a palace, but in the Romantic era he could and did.  The forest of the second act doesn't look real at all, but it convincingly evokes the multi-layered style of stage setting which was common in the 1830s period when the work was first created.

Costumes, too, are evocative.  The men, of course, are in kilts.  Effie, the sensible Scots girl wears a pastel dress, another traditional look for a Scottish formal occasion.  The really critical style, though, is the long, gauzy, flaring, below-the-knees tutu for the Sylph and her sister Sylphs.  It doesn't look remotely like the more familiar stiff, flat tutu of the later Russian ballet, but it's essential here because the choreography was and is designed to make the most of the flowing lines of this particular style of tutu.  That's most noticeable when the corps de ballet, poised in pairs facing away from each other, execute an arabesque and the tutus open out into a glorious fan-shape spanning a half circle between each pair of dancers.

The title role requires not only airy, feather-light dancing but also gifts as an actress.  Svetlana Lunkina amply met the demands of the part.  Her whole stage presence had the requisite ethereal, not-quite-of-this-world quality.  Her face and manner were by turns playful, solemn, loving, mischievous, and tragic.  Right from the opening scene, her dancing was precise while seeming completely natural and organic to her.  The look of bewilderment on her face as she first felt the deadly effects of the magic scarf was a heart-tugging moment.  A memorable assumption of one of the great classic roles.

Francesco Gabriele Frola made much of the sometimes unsympathetic role of James.  (Let's face it, for a romantic hero he's a bit of a creep!)  Frola aptly depicted the man torn between his pledge to his fiancee, Effie, and his sudden infatuation with the Sylph.  He was impressive in the frequent entrechats and grand jetes, achieving a real sense of airborne lightness.

Jillian Vanstone did fine work as the jilted Effie.  In a role which doesn't allow for a great deal of actual dancing, she made the most of the opportunities she did get.  Dramatically, she was truly convincing as her dreams of marriage collapsed around her.

James' friend, Gurn, the man who actually ends up marrying Effie, is a bit of an equivocal figure.  It wouldn't be hard to cast him as the villain of the piece.  Dylan Tedaldi gave a believable portrayal of a man who is torn between loyalty to his friend and love for Effie, and who seizes opportunity when it knocks at his door.  His bewilderment at the disappearance of the Sylph in Act One was a highlight.

As the witch, Madge, Rebekah Rimsay gave a powerful performance as the woman scorned who then becomes the gleeful avenging Fury.  Actually, the glee appears right in Act One when she is telling fortunes, and predicts the tragic end of the story.  The whole fortune-telling sequence was both amusing and frightening, exactly the effect you need when the Black Arts are at work changing the story from comedy to tragedy.

There are some fine opportunities for the other dancers in the company too -- a pas de six and a Scots reel, and of course the dances of the corps de ballet as the Sylphs in Act Two.  All were very well done, with the reel in particular capturing the joy and energy of the wedding feast.  The work of the corps as Sylphs was very fine, again with that necessary ethereal quality.

The chance to see La Sylphide again may not come around for many a long year.  But it is one of the foundational classics of the art of the ballet, and I certainly welcomed and enjoyed the chance to see it staged this year.

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