It was a dark and stormy night…Well, that was Edinburgh, blustery and November-ish: in the Kingdom of the Snow Queen and her sister the Summer Princess it was, as usual, beautifully icy and sparkly. But all was not well. The younger sister is itching to get away into the real world to pursue the handsome stranger she’s seen in the magic mirror. When she runs away, the Queen vows to bring her back and, in a fury, smashes the magic mirror, sending troublesome shards of ice into the world.
Meanwhile, in the marketplace of a lovely Dickensian never-world, devoted villagers Kai and Gerda are dancing their way through a sweet boy-and-girl romance. When the circus arrives in town with its clowns, acrobats and (crucially) a mysterious fortune teller – well, what could go wrong? Enter the Summer Princess, now disguised as tomboy-ish Lexi, and the vengeful Snow Queen, both, in their way, intent on separating Kai and Gerda.
This was the third outing for Christopher Hampson’s wintery ballet for Scottish Ballet, following its premiere in 2019, and (as we all said at the time) it was a welcome change from the usual Christmas fare. Because it’s still a ‘new’ work, it’s maybe worth a quick re-cap. The two snowy sisters are wreaking havoc in town: Lexi because she wants Kai for herself and the Snow Queen because she wants her sister back to ease her loneliness. When her plan fails, she blows ice crystals from the shard of the magic mirror into Kai’s eyes and heart, so that he becomes not only confused and spiteful (rejecting poor Gerda) but also helplessly in thrall to the Queen, who magics him away to her kingdom. Gerda, aided by Lexi and members of a travellers’ camp, sets out to find and release him.
Hans Christian Andersen may have supplied the bones of the story, but for the regular balletgoers in the audience echoes stirred in the memory. As well as the obvious sisterly parallel with the movie Frozen (recognised by every small girl in the audience on its first outing), the traveller encampment recalls that of The Two Pigeons; the Snow Queen’s ice-wolves snarl and threaten just like Carabosse’s attendants; Gerda journeys through the snowy forest rather like Clara in Nutcracker (although with less enjoyment), and in their respective transformations, the Snow Queen is surely channelling Cruella de Vil, while Lexi is first cousin to the Artful Dodger. Nothing wrong with any of that, in fact quite the opposite: it shows yet again that a) there’s nothing new in fairyland and b) clever Christopher Hampson knows a good thing when he sees it.
But as we also know by now, Hampson and his team just can’t help worrying away at productions: a tweak here, an update there and, yes, The Snow Queen is quite a dark tale and involves some serious issues. Without shouting about inclusivity and diversity, the company has quietly made some small changes, not least in the presentation of the colourful traveller community of Act 2. Programme synopses are helpful here and a glance at the two earlier versions (for the premiere in 2019 and a revival in 2022) reveals minor changes both in the characterisation of Lexi and in the ending. The original had Lexi living ‘for many years among a group of bandits’ and known ‘as a pickpocket’. By 2022, this had become ‘lives for many years on the outskirts of town’ (no bandits here), and she is known now as ‘a dangerous pickpocket, armed with a shard of glass from the enchanted mirror’. Retained in the current production, this is helpful – Lexi is quite a bad lot in need of redemption, and the shard is important.
The ending, however, still proves a bit of a problem. In 2019 ‘the sisters battle till they both fall through the mirror’, thus breaking the spell and leaving the field open for Kai and Gerda. To be honest, this did rather make it look as if the wicked Queen had pushed her sister off the roof and seemed to baffle some of the audience. By 2022 Lexi ‘transforms back into the Summer Princess to return to her sister forever’. Better, but still a bit vague? And in the latest version, Lexi resumes her Princess role ‘willing to substitute her place with Kai and return to her sister forever’. They seem to melt into the background together. Happy ever after? Well, who knows, but certainly less vengeful.
But isn’t that the trouble with myths and fairy tales – they just won’t stay within the expectations of the real world! And does any of that really matter? It was the final few minutes of an evening filled with spectacle, excitement and some thrilling choreography. Kai and Gerda’s boy-girl pas de deux were playful and loving; his encounters with the Snow Queen showed him entranced and submissive, her silvery weightlessness barely troubling his partnering throughout their duets.
The circus performers were a joy, clowns and acrobats apparently boneless in their sinuous frolicking. The dancers in the traveller camp threw themselves into traditional dances that set the stage alight, then moments later the snowy forest through which Gerda had to travel to find the kidnapped Kai was an eerie and magical place, full of Snowflakes, Jackfrosts and classicism.
Because the company has terrific strength-in-depth, you could be seeing a different cast pretty much any night of the week, which means that every dancer is able to put his or her stamp on their moves. On my night Kayla-Maree Tarantolo and Bruno Micchiardi were a touching Gerda and Kai, while Jessica Fyfe’s Snow Queen moved from vengeful spikiness to subtle seduction in her duets with Kai, and Melissa Polson strutted her stuff as a devil-may-care Lexi who eventually found her own heart. This tale may have been a winter fantasy but they were all believable characters.
And we can’t let this go without a shout-out for Scottish Ballet’s orchestra, coping nonchalantly with Rimsky-Korsakov’s tricky and unfamiliar score (arranged from various pieces by Richard Honner), and for on-stage violinist Gill Risi. This was a real treat – so much more than familiar background music and, as always, good to see a full orchestra in the pit.
