Royal Ballet
Royal Opera House, London
31 October 2009 (matinée)
Russia is hardly a land of fair princesses these days. Tall, powerful figures dominate a ballet world where Odette/Odile is the ultimate role, the crowning of any ballerina – their dancing is the steel to past stars’ silk, and few of them are a natural fit for the delicate Princess Aurora. The petite Evgenia Obraztsova, guesting with the Royal Ballet this month, is really a wonderful incongruity, almost an antidote to the trend – and her soft, beautiful first Sleeping Beauty was a glimpse into the original harmony of Vaganova training.
Her approach is without question not what one would expect from a Royal Ballet dancer, but there are reasons to that. The Mariinsky production puts no emphasis on the actual narrative. It treats the ballet almost as an essay in classicism, a display of the most refined dancing you could imagine, and the fact that the princess doesn’t look at her suitors when they partner her is of little relevance. On the contrary, the Royal Ballet’s finest Auroras, most notably Alina Cojocaru, have worked out every tiny detail of their relationship to the other characters, and strive to make them crystal-clear. The splendor of the ballet accommodates even the Russian distanciation, but it takes some getting used to.
That caveat aside, this princess is a classical jewel. Her main goal is not to give an original reading of the part, I believe, but a completely natural one – she is a heiress to a long tradition, and the harmony of the choreography flows through her, whereas many dancers set out to look as individual as possible. Her affinity with the part allows her to look composed in the difficult first act, and her entrance was pure joy – instinctively phrased where this production’s choreography often looks awkward. Despite some nervousness during the very last balances, she acquitted herself well of a trick that is not performed in the Kirov-Mariinsky version. So few dancers know how to suggest the arc of a phrase, as she so often does in her variations – letting the music flow before emphasizing the last note of a passage, her arms never still, light and fluttering.
She was at her best in the Vision Scene. The softness Obraztsova brings to any choreography is quite rare – she doesn’t punch or freeze the accents, but rather let them visually expand and disappear, the contours as smooth as those of a dream. She literally immersed herself in the added choreography by Sir Frederick Ashton, the melting arabesques plié, the menés on pointe – she even found quiet pauses in the turns of the coda, her arms delicately framing her face in relevé for a second. Blending into this foreign take on Tchaikovsky’s music and into the company as a whole, she was speaking a unified language.
David Makhateli, a Georgian-born Principal, was her Prince Florimund. His lines are quite stunning – elongated, lyrical – and he is completely at home in this very classical part. Obraztsova wakes up to his kiss with the right sense of shyness and restraint; it is not until seeing her parents that she feels allowed to express any feelings for him. The royal wedding makes more sense this way, and although the Grand Pas de Deux that ensues was not without a few partnering glitches, their pairing is extremely engaging. Makhateli is an obvious future king, and while Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg opted for a very romantic reading, Evgenia Obraztsova brings a good dose of Russian authority to the stage – one wouldn’t have expected it from the Mariinsky’s favourite Juliet, but she combined her usual delicacy with an elegant confidence and decisive phrasing. Love comes when she lowers to the floor in a swan-like position, expressively bowing to Makhateli, and her sweetness shone through in the variation – a delightful reading that kept the Russian attitudes with épaulement at the beginning, a signature moment for her. She would have everything to gain in dancing regularly with the Royal Ballet, as their dramatic repertoire might just be what she needs for the future.
Others were not so on top of the choreography, with junior dancers cast in important parts for this matinée. Laura McCulloch is not quite up to the challenges of the Lilac Fairy. She is a fun presence, with bits of delightful mime, but she struggles with the Prologue variation – and simply doesn’t possess the grand classical manner one expects in this all-important role. Kristen McNally, on the other hand, made a striking debut as Carabosse. Much younger than most interpreters of the role, she brings to it a glamorous thirst for power that gives edge to her confrontations with the fairies.
The fairies themselves were uneven and, for some of them, miscast, but Takane Akada, an apprentice with the company, made a lovely and secure attempt at the first variation, and later on at one of Florestan’s sisters. Yuhui Choe, the other sister, was her wonderful, poetic self, a true Aurora waiting in the wings, and Kenta Kura offered a vivacious and beautifully realized Bluebird. Let us overlook, on the other hand, the clumsy performance of the corps de ballet, who looked completely ill-at-ease in the Vision Scene. It was a matinée, but the children in the audience still deserve magic.
Evgenia Obraztsova in the Kirov-Mariinsky reconstruction of the 1890 Sleeping Beauty © Neff/Gaynor Minden
