In its eighteenth iteration—since its inception in 2006 until 2019 it was Russian Ballet Icons, now the Russian has been dropped as the range has widened. This is my eleventh visit. What has not changed is the splendid array of international talent on display and the appealing potpourri of extracts, both old and new and in-between.
Seventeen short pieces, eight one side of the interval, nine the other, mostly duets but for one solo. The balance this year seems to lean more towards the new than the old. A sprinkling of the traditional over the contemporary, the past seasoning the present, makes for a stimulating evening.
Le Corsaire, Don Quixote, Black Swan pas de deux, standard gala fare, can pall if seen too often no matter how excellent they are and how well performed. But it’s a hill the audience seems to love to climb with the dancers, clapping to the endless fouettés—I imagine it must put the dancers off their stride, and indeed a few are off their stride.
So, six classical pieces, three in each half, if I include Balanchine’s 1967 Imperial Ballet homage Diamonds (from Jewels), danced immaculately by Olga Smirnova and Vadim Muntagirov, she as cold and regal as diamonds, he an attentive cavalier, to Tchaikovsky’s exquisite 3rd Symphony.
Victor Gsovsky’s familiar Grand Pas Classique (dancers Fumi Kaneko and Muntagirov) sets the ball rolling. I never tire of this, such beautiful clean lines, if done as well as by these two Royal Ballet principals—he catches her with one arm… astonishing.
Le Corsaire closes the first half, and there’s the rarely performed (at least in the West) and much revised (by Jules Perrot, Marius Petipa, Agrippina Vaganova and Pyotr Gusev) La Esmeralda, third one in. Performed by perky young dancers António Casalinho and Margarita Fernandes, tambourine at the ready to kick—take that, her feet seem to say. Coincidentally, ENB’s Ivana Bueno did a party piece solo from it at Ballet Nights 003.
The second half has the above-mentioned Diamonds, Black Swan pas de deux and to finish Don Quixote, but what excites me more are the contemporary works, some already on the way to being classics. William Forsythe’s In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated (ENB’s Sanguen Lee and Gareth Haw, cogs in a machine to Thom Willems’s crashing industrial music); Wayne McGregor’s Qualia (Yasmine Naghdi and Reece Clarke, a striking partnership, are absolutely stunning, executing McGregor’s demanding hyperextensions, she origami in his hands, to Robin ‘Scanner’ Rimbaud’s strong beats); and Christopher Wheeldon’s Like Water for Chocolate (Francesca Hayward and Herman Cornejo, in nude look, dance overwhelming love, forbidden love, orgasmic love) to Joby Talbot’s dramatic music.
The rest are new to me and are thrilling. Two Pieces for HET by Hans van Manen: in black sheer costumes, Constantine Allen and Riho Sakamoto resolve a conflict, a lover’s tiff, to taped music by Erkii-Sven Tüür and Arvo Pärt.
James Pett’s Mercy Duet (from IMAGO), for himself and Travis Clausen-Knight, confirms their talent—in black trousers, white shirts, a tender love unfolds. Formerly with Company Wayne McGregor, they have successfully branched out alone. Their contact work is great—they could be conjoined twins.
Matthew Golding’s 2023 Remembrance (from Lost Letters), danced by himself and Lucía Lacarra, against a sea of poppies, reminds me of ENB’s Lest We Forget from 2014, commemorating the First World War. In 2018 Wayne Eagling choreographed a Remembrance ballet for NEBT. Hanging on to the loved one, keeping them alive, it is very moving. Mauro Bigonzetti’s Caravaggio to Monteverdi blows me away—Melissa Hamilton and the great Roberto Bolle, artist and muse in an equal tug of creation.
Ermanno Sbezzo’s Proximity or Closeness danced by Eleonora Abbagnato and Sergio Bernal to Mahler and Schnittke (musical quartet on stage) is another exploration of relationships. Bernal regularly contributes a solo, this time his take, a strange mix of flamenco and classical, on Rodin’s The Thinker to music by Roque Baños López, played by the orchestra in the pit and Daniel Jurado on guitar on stage.
Mendelssohn’s music sustains Sébastien Bertaud’s Renaissance—with Bleuenn Battistoni and Julian Mackay in dazzling House of Balmain silver costumes to match their gleaming performance. John Cranko’s The Taming of the Shrew (music by Scarlatti), which I’ve never seen, refreshes with its cheeky humour and a lovely feisty relationship between Camila Bocca’s Katherine and Osiel Gouneo’s Petruchio.
The English National Ballet Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of Maria Seletskaja accompanies some pieces, some have to use recorded music, but it’s always the live music that drives dance best. I am on the edge of my seat at times, transfixed by dancers, their acrobatics, but most of all by their truth, their dexterity, their musicality, and by the music. If ever dance was music, and music dance, here is the evidence. And love, or lack of it, is the engine.