Georgian company’s London premiere offers a blast of old-fashioned ballet classicism
We get a blast of the old school with the State Ballet of Georgia’s version of the world’s most loved ballet. Rigorous Russian schooling and style are on show; character and narrative drive are very much not the priority.
Quite the switch from the versions of this work that we’re used to – it’s disconcerting to see a Prince Siegfried so blankly composed that he seems almost completely detached from the events happening around him. You’d have to check the programme synopsis to know that he’s ‘overcome with grief’ at the end of the third scene, when he realises that he’s been tricked into losing the love of his life. I’ve seen more emotion from someone who’s had their favourites substituted in their online grocery shopping.
Oleh Lihai compensates in other ways, though. His tall, slender frame seems almost weightless as he soars through leaps and spins with a chiselled precision. And although he and Nino Samadashvili, playing Odette/Odile, don’t generate much chemistry, he’s a sure and grounded partner.
Samadashvili herself has a considered grace and lovely line, if not quite the swan arms that you might hope for when she’s playing Odette, queen of the swan maidens. Again, there seems to be no sense of compunction on her part to inhabit the emotional drama of her role, although she gets more fire in her belly as the evil black swan Odile, dispatched to fool Siegfried into betraying his love. Such a shame, though, that everything stops for her to take bows after the famous fouetté series in the grand pas de deux. The thundering, hurtling tempestuousness of Tchaikovsky’s score – which gets a particularly thundering rendition by the English National Opera orchestra under Papuna Gvaberidze – is stopped dead, all momentum lost.
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This is the London debut for the 70-strong, 175-year-old company, currently under the direction of the former Bolshoi and ABT ballerina Nina Ananiashvili (it previously performed in Edinburgh in 2008 for the International Festival). It doesn’t fill the void left by the big Russian companies that previously brought summer seasons, and which are no longer welcome for political reasons, but there’s certainly enough to enjoy. There’s an exotically strange tilt to Vyacheslav Okunev’s lavish costuming – gold boots and some astonishing headgear for the party guests in Act III – and an admirable, no-nonsense clip to the production, which has been judiciously tweaked to just over two hours. The corps can be a little ragged round the edges, but there are delights among the main casting. Efe Burak brings buoyant vigorous attack to playing the prince’s friend; the cygnets are joyously impeccable in their famous dance.
And in this version you get the less usual ‘love conquers all’ happy ending – although peak narrative opacity by this point means that you may be left wondering just how exactly we’ve got here.
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