Swan Lake promises all the hallmarks of grand, sweeping Romanticism from Tchaikovsky’s eloquently weepy score, great gasp-worthy swathes of emotion (if pitched right), shimmering lakes, dying swans and sumptuous costumes, and this version does not disappoint.
The Royal’s production of Swan Lake, commissioned in 2018 from the late Liam Scarlett, is based on the 19th century Russian Petipa / Ivanov original, then synthesised into Scarlett’s own modernised vision with an adapted storyline.
John Macfarlane’s designs are opulent, dripping in brocade with sequins glinting in the bright lights of the court that cleverly set off the cold greys and stark scenes of the mystery strewn lake scenes buried deep in the royal woods.
In brief, the ballet features Prince Siegfried who falls in love with swan Princess Odette. Odette and her courtiers transform into swans under the spell cast by an evil sorcerer, the Rasputin-like figure Baron Von Rothbart (Thomas Whitehead). Their days are spent gracefully gliding on a lake in the royal forest, only to return to their human form at night.
Some of Scarlett’s ideas flow beautifully. There is the gloriously fresh duo of the prince’s two sisters and a breezy, light-hearted role for his best friend, Benno, played with springy charm by Joonhyuk Jun in in a two new pas de trois—offering high-spirited performances by soloists Leticia Dias and Annette Buvoli, all smiles and youthful charm.
Then, in this version, Von Rothbart’s dual role places him directly centre of action, which takes a moment or two to work out. While the odious figure is busy manipulating the court like puppets on a string, postulating about in his long black gown, shoulder-length hair and fearsome cheekbones, he's also the evil sorcerer in acts II and IV, opening out his ominous dark wings and feathers in evil glee. Von Rothbart is performed with just the right dose of stern creepiness by Whitehead, his sinister presence at times verging on pantomime, encouraging hissing as applause at curtain down.
But it’s the lead roles of Odette / Odile and Prince Siegfried, performed by Yasmine Naghdi and Matthew Ball, who steal the show as the significance of the silly storyline fades into the fabric of the ballet and eloquent movement outweighs all else.
Naghdi brings an emotionally charged and deeply transformational portrayal to her Odette. When we first see her by the lakeside, she is timid and shy, imbuing otherworldly intentions in her delicate movements. Her arms become wings, beating and fluttering as she falls for her prince, a feature of her performance that she’s given considerable thought. “The use of the arms needs to look effortless, light and fluid, as if to have no bones, but to express great emotion. Not to be exaggerated or affected, to move with the breath,” she says.
But the mercurial transformation from vulnerable swan to the mercenary Odile is when we truly witness the fiery brilliance of her incredible technique. The legendary Black Swan pas de deux is the piece de resistance of the ballet. Naghdi seems to hover on pointe in arabesque as if she had been frozen in time after a series of unbroken, perfectly executed fouettés that don’t miss a beat.
Her sharp-lined Odile captures rather than captivates Siegfried, making a beeline for the poor, unassuming prince as she bourrées diagonally across the stage, beckoning him to face her, forcing him to turn away from the painful vision of Odette, a trapped apparition at the back of the stage and a warning from the netherworld of the trickery that will seal their fate.
Ball is a suave and suitable equal in partnership with perfect placement and wonderful elevation that sees him flipping and spinning across the stage. He holds her passionately and proudly as if to show off his love in the form of this beautiful incarnation of part-swan, part-human to the audience.
There are many endings to Swan Lake, and Scarlett’s finale is somewhat of a dampener of the spirits in the sense that this an especially tragic and depressing departure. Yet there’s also heart-stopping beauty in the parting image of Odette’s journey as she sacrifices her life to save her lover. Siegfried pulls her lifeless body out the lake and carries her upstage, cradled in his arms, all woman, hair falling free, limbs limp, while her spirit of the swan appears framed above them, forever immortalised.
This is lavish drama swaddled in sumptuous late 19th century values that allows the outcome to breathe freely into unresolved tragedy and loss, shamelessly embracing the Romantic movement’s ideal of love, rousing the matinée audience to their feet in appreciative applause.