A flying visit from Birmingham Royal Ballet’s bubbly La fille mal gardée leaves one wanting more: uplifting (one-hand lifts, too), silly, witty, funny in a pantomime tradition full of innuendos, there is the famous Widow Simone clog dance (original music John Lanchbery), a tricky maypole dance, lots of pink ribbon plaiting, Morris dancing of sorts and sweet Welsh pony Oscar who delivers on cue. And, for me, classical ballet par excellence, a delight from beginning to end.
A family show—the programme includes a picture book synopsis for children and a word search—with fabulous dancing and complicated, demanding choreography, buoyed by Ferdinand Hérold’s irresistible melodies. My clever musical companion immediately spots the Rossini and Donizetti opéra comique pastiches.
The ballet has gone through several choreographers, musical permutations and versions since 1789. Frederick Ashton, noted for his musicality, takes from the French, blends it with his beloved Suffolk and turns it into a classy showcase for dancers.
Starting with the jolly rooster and his hen harem—if that isn’t a nod to farmyard shenanigans…—and ending with a happy couple and a thwarted suitor who isn’t too unhappy with his lot, it is a simple tale of children outwitting parents who hope to match-make to financial advantage.
Lise loves young farmer Colas, but her wealthy widowed farmer mother has her eyes set on rich vigneron Thomas’s son Alain. Both Lise and Alain are overprotected, which leads to much comedy. Lise gets the better of her mother; guileless Alain is ultimately relieved at the outcome, but his pas de trois with Lise and Colas proves he is not the simpleton he seems. Just a big softie... a corker of a role…
Cartoonist Osbert Lancaster’s front cloth, a mix of saucy ancien régime statuary and bucolic English countryside, and his picture book set—there’s even a dog in a kennel drawing, which I’ve not noticed before—is also tongue-in-cheek. Ashton delights in being naughty—the frantic butter-churning scene, spanking and Lise’s mime wanting several children when, unbeknownst to her, Colas is hiding in a bale of hay. Her embarrassment is lovely to behold.
But it’s the dancing, superb solos and duets from the lead couple, especially from the recently made principal, Beatrice Parma (seen a few days ago in Luna), that speeds the story along. She’s a good actor, too. Young soloist Enrique Bejarano Vidal’s Colas is not quite in her league yet, but he is handsome, charming and determined to get the girl. Former Royal Ballet Colas, Carlos Acosta and guest répétiteurs Christopher Carr and Lesley Collier of the Royal Ballet are passing on Ashton’s baton with aplomb.
The corps de ballet, villagers, harvesters, grooms, Lise’s friends make up the busy scenes, not without a few stumbles, but the indispensible star is Widow Simone, the central ‘maypole’ of the action, so to speak. Whoever plays her must have charisma, musical hall rapport with the audience and split-second timing. Tall Rory Mackay has that in spades, his facial expressions just so. Acting ability is crucial for all of them, even the subsidiary characters such as village notary and clerk.
Clever plotting, too. Under lock and key in the home, constantly distracted by her mother with tambourine dancing or sweeping or spinning (nearly strangling her sleeping mother in her dreamy distractedness), Lise ends up in her bedroom with Colas, where her unsuspecting mother has sent her out of harm’s way. Poor Alain opens the door and all is revealed. Gus Payne’s gauche Alain has acrobatic choreography that belies his clumsiness. He even gets to fly on his beloved red umbrella, his comfort.
La fille mal gardée, presented with such poise and grace, is a comfort to us all in our distressing menacing times. It’s wonderful to see such goodness on stage. And live music from the Royal Ballet Sinfonia.