In 1929, Serge Diaghilev’s company of enfants terribles disbanded to form balletic institutions across the world, with Ninettte de Valois famously planting the roots of a Royal Ballet in Britain. So, it is apt that Birmingham Royal Ballet’s young, international company has wrestled with bringing The Ballet Russes repertory to life.
Any theatrical revival straddles the minefield of reconstruction versus ‘liveness’ and so, despite its established place in a ballet audience’s imagination, this bill, which also includes Les Sylphides, was a brave choice on the part of Carlos Acosta, Director and guardian of how this next generation cast is perceived.
Given the zeal and ambition that must be latent in the ensemble, which has been selected from schools in the UK, Ukraine, Australia, USA, Cuba and Malta, opening with Fokine’s muted Les Sylphides, is an interesting choice.
The curtain rises on tableaux of Christmas-card-like Sylphs, and there is an ethereal chill in the air. It is clear that we are being offered a museum piece in the unusual proximity of a mid-scale auditorium. Solid attention is given to the nuances of manner and points of unison, as the visions of Edwardian fantasy adage and bourrée en couru in and out of formations. Soloists Alisa Garkavenko and Alexandra Manuel, anchored by Tom Hazleby as The Poet, show craftsmanlike execution, with particular technical aplomb from Garkavenko and a few loud jeté landings from Manuel, which can be forgiven. And this begs the question of what these characters are…
If this presentation of the piece lacks anything, it is not so much faithful reconstruction as interpretation. There is neither emotion nor ghost-like absence of it from the dancers. To a degree, this is reflected in the absence of real elevation—a quality that might normally be associated with spirits but doesn’t necessarily lend itself to Fokine's choreography. What is suggested is the absence of an interpretive choice, although Chopin's resonant score compensates for all evils in this somnambulist ballet.
The second offering of the evening, in the form of early twentieth century exoticism embodied to the hilt, is from Scheherazade. The pas de deux of Zobeide and The Golden Slave is a much stronger storytelling proposition, delivered by two dancers who exude both technical exactness and lyricism—Andrea Riolo and Ixan Llorca Ferrer.
Ferrer’s entrance, running towards the audience with outstretched, Amazonian arms, provokes a gasp from the audience, as it is clear that this man needs a bigger stage to exert his full presence onto. There is also the fact that he conjurs an uncanny impression of Leon Bakst’s designs for Nijinsky. Both performers are sinuously sensual in a standout moment of the show.
Following succinctly from this is a solo from Nijinska’s Les Biches featuring an accomplished Sophie Walters as The Hostess and Fokine’s Le Spectre de la Rose. The latter is a bizarre but iconic piece of historical curio, deftly handled by Jack Easton and Charlotte Cohen. Easton’s virtuoso turns and leaps as the flamboyant vision of Cohen’s well characterised maid are inspiring. The contemporary relevance of a male dance following in the footsteps of Diaghilev’s gay lover, Nijinsky, decked head to toe in cocktail pink Lycra and feathers cannot be lost on the audience in a piece that could be adopted as a symbol of Pride.
Finally, the programme introduces one of the most identifiable of Fokine’s impressionistic fantasies, The Firebird. Alexandra Manuel does justice to the sharp footwork of the choreography, with some mileage left for a greater sense of struggle and captivity. In legendary ballerina Karsavina’s words, "you must beat your arms; you have never felt a human hand on your body before!"
Perhaps the most quizzical of the Diaghilev offerings is the pas de deux from Les Biches in which Noah Cosgriff and Ellyne Knol reckon with the parts of two fitness enthusiasts, dressed like the sculpted children of prewar Futurism. They amusingly find their rhythm with each other before joining forces in a clinch.
Ending on a reprieve of Les Sylphides, BRB2’S evening comes full-circle as soloists from the repertoire join the corps of Sylphs in a way that makes a little more sense than the classical ballet’s first appearance. A stronger provocation to the audience would have been to start with Scheherazade or Spectre and lace the more static tableau sequences throughout.
Regardless, what is achieved is a wholesome evening of ballet made remarkable by the dedication and detail with which these burgeoning dancers bring their shared heritage back to life.