A two-act dance theatre work based on Federico Fellini’s 1954 film La Strada (The Road), the lead, simple soul (and soul is the right word) Gelsomina (played by his wife Giulietta Masina in the film) performed by one of my favourite ballerinas, Alina Cojocaru, formerly with Royal Ballet and ENB… who couldn't be more suitable for the role… is a labour of love. But too much love can blind.
Gelsomina is sold by her mother to circus strongman Zampanò (Mick Zeni, former principal of La Scala Ballet), who treats her badly but turns her into a performer. She is like a faithful dog, until she meets circus tightrope walker Il Matto (The Fool), played by Cojocaru’s real-life husband Johan Kobborg (Royal Ballet and Royal Danish Ballet), nifty on a unicycle.
She is a pure, otherworldly creature, supported by two angels. Is she dead already (a costume change suggests it) and looking back, or are they showing her where the road will inevitably lead? She is the only one dancing en pointe, ethereal, lyrical, gossamer light, poignant, with a face that could melt the harshest of hearts, yet it doesn't melt Zampanò’s, or does it? A macho man can’t show his emotions. That’s the tragedy.
Rivalry and fantasy, metaphor and showbiz, macabre cabaret and harsh reality leavened by a touch of Charlie Chaplin—Cojocaru’s hat is surely a nod to him… She has that sorrowful clown’s face, as she sits on the edge of the stage looking out at us. Is it a nightmare or a farce?
The six supporting clowns, three couples, also try to engage us with gestures suggesting give us a call, we’re available... But it falls flat. As sadly, does this sad story, which rambles too much for its own good. Yes, I know it’s called the road, but picaresque it is not. Structurally it is all over the place.
A short story stretched thin with choreography that is as patchy as the patchwork melodramatic musical collage stitched from Nino Rota’s film scores: not just from La Strada, but also Fellini’s 1976 Casanova and Visconti’s 1963 The Leopard, its waltzes, polkas and mazurkas.
Cojocaru, as always, is a joy to watch, her dancing still at its peak and her acting, too. Her many pas de trois with the Angels (Marc Jubete with his top knot and David Rodriguez beautiful movers in their see-through loose black trousers, white kimono sleeved tops and silvery earrings) are the highlight of the evening, as are her anguished trios torn between the two rival men in her life.
A slender Kobborg dances like a dream, too, his cabrioles airborne and light. Mick Zeni is perfectly cast as Zampanò, but the circus hard man silent movie posturing is too much. It rather reduces his role to one dimension.
This, of course, is down to choreographer Natália Horečná (former dancer with Hamburg Ballet, Nederland’s Dance Theatre and Scapino Ballet Rotterdam, now freelance choreographer), whose melding of contemporary and classical techniques is valid, theatrical if repetitive. And the ending is rather drawn out. I overhear behind me someone say, “I hope the critics will be kind, but I expect it will be mixed”. Astute.
Costume and set design by former dancer Otto Bubeníček is a graphic novel in the making. Cojocaru has drawn together a fine international team with this her first full-length ballet to be commissioned by her Acworkroom production company founded in 2019. This is its second production; the first was Alina at Sadler’s Wells in March 2020.