Hard to believe Pushkin’s verse-drama Eugene Onegin is two hundred years old, give or take a year, and that it is sixty years since John Cranko created his dance version for Stuttgart Ballet. Time has not staled them. Time, timing and regret for what might have been are at the crux of the matter. And old-fashioned honour. And young love. We are all fools for tales of ill-fated love.
A thunderbolt in the shape of haughty aristocratic poseur full of ennui and something of the dramatic fatalist about him, Onegin, strikes an impressionable young Tatiana, her head full of bookish romances, when he visits her family home in the country with his friend Lensky, her vivacious sister Olga’s amour. He might have stepped out of one of her books. Later, he steps out of a mirror in her bedroom during a feverish letter-writing night’s dream. How sexy is that… wishful thinking.
John Cranko has followed Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin opera in making the focus on Tatiana, whereas Pushkin’s is maybe a reflection of his era’s ‘superfluous man’, or his entitled milieu (it was more than rumoured that his wife was consorting with the Tsar...). Cranko’s Onegin is a cold-blooded catalyst; it is Tatiana’s life’s arc we see and invest in, from the shy provincial girl to a Princess in high society St Petersburg.
Over the years I have seen three productions here: one inevitably has favourite interpreters, and dancers’ innate personalities count in characterisation. What is interesting tonight—the sixth night in the long run—is that Lauren Cuthbertson, now principal guest artist, is making a debut in the role of Tatiana so late in her illustrious career.
A fabulous dancer, a subtle performer, as evidenced (amongst too many to mention) by her role as Hermione and her transition (with some panache) from Alice to Red Queen, roles she created in Christopher Wheeldon’s The Winter’s Tale and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
What she brings to young Tatiana is a delicate, slim English rose, retiring, yet one that is resilient and noble—with wonderful footwork. I do wonder if there is some nervousness tonight, but that suits the part. As adult Tatiana, she lets us see the young girl in the mature woman who loves her husband, maybe not with overwhelming passion but a quiet love, and he her.
Her husband, Prince Gremin (reliable Gary Avis), Cranko introduces, cleverly, in the second act at her birthday party. We see him, a reserved older man, but we don't see him—he’s just one of the elderly relatives and friends her mother has invited. Cutherbertson and Avis are very touching in the last act: he tactful, she all aflutter after receiving Onegin’s letter of love.
The tables have been turned. Onegin rejected her young love: she now rejects his declaration… not without some difficulty. There’s a nice symmetry. He pleads at her feet as she pleaded at his—the pas de deux at the heart of each act are beautiful, as are the solos. Onegin’s stiff at the beginning body language becomes pliant and humble. Now he knows. I always wondered if this was more of his Byronic posturing, the mantle he has made for himself. Or, Pushkin, like Byron, in his own image...
Ryoichi Hirano plays Onegin’s cold reserve with a deliberate stiffness (no chemistry between them), so when he starts to fall apart at Tatiana’s feet, it comes as a delicious surprise. Though his dashing from wing to wing is maybe overplaying it from Cranko. Cuthbertson has danced with Hirano in The Winter’s Tale—she must feel secure in his arms.
In contrast, we have young lovers Olga and Lensky. Mayara Magri is delightful as Olga, Calvin Richardson a tall, polite Lensky. Their first act duet is pure Ashton. I’d like to see more fire in his challenge to Onegin. And more lyrical tragedy in his pre-duel solo. It’s as beautiful a solo as the equivalent aria in Tchaikovsky’s opera. One knows the outcome, Olga and Tatiana’s presence makes that clear, but it still hits hard. What a thing to kill your friend for a bit of nonsense.
Tragedy is leavened with ball scenes, country dancing and beautiful music, arranged by Kurt-Heinz Stolze from a range of Tchaikovsky’s oeuvres (including bits from The Seasons, his opera Cherevichki and the symphonic fantasy Francesca da Rimini). At one moment in the first act, I seem to be hearing the opera, but it’s all in my head, prompted by a familiar motif.
The ovation tonight is long and loud. Onegin is almost sold out, though tickets have not yet been released for later dates. I am going again to see this cast… and again if I can grab a later ticket and a different cast. Three short acts, 40 / 30 / 35 minutes. Two intervals add another 50 minutes to the evening. It is a gem in the Royal Ballet’s repertoire: structure and pace clear-cut, with Jürgen Rose’s set designs wrapping Cranko’s offering in a tidy bow. It’s not to be missed.