It isn’t easy to craft a coherent ballet from Cinderella, one of the world’s most beloved rags-to-riches fairytales. No-one who has attempted it has achieved complete success, but Sir Frederick Ashton in 1948 produced a jewel, struggling like all his successors to make anything substantial of Act 3, but producing dreamy, luminous choreography, with comic relief from the Ugly Sisters perfectly suited to the post-war need for belly-laughs. Today, in the first revival of last year’s new production, Cinderella’s Stepsisters (as they are now called) must balance the watering-down of their grotesquerie demanded by current societal mores with the elicitation of glee from the audience – not an easy task.
Prokofiev’s exquisite score (surely one of the greats in the classical ballet canon) emphasises mystery and the darker side of magic, so that even happy scenes are often in a minor key. Tom Pye’s sets for Act 1 reflect this duality; the kitchen, dilapidated, cavernous and sparsely furnished, reveals a semblance of the house’s former grandeur via its huge window, now cracked and stained with algae but probably giving onto a lush kitchen-garden in former times, and the wood-panelled hallway just seen at stage right. In the transformation scene the old kitchen dissolves into a magical garden, framed and filled with Finn Ross's video projections of flowers and lights, enhanced by David Finn’s atmospheric lighting.
The ballroom scene in Act 2 takes place in the garden outside the palace, with the magnificent facade of the house, complete with towering clock, as a backdrop. At the second transformation, at the end of Act 3, Pye, Ross and Finn create another world via astral projections and showers of glitter, all beautifully lit. The final ascent of Cinderella and the Prince, up a magnificent staircase to their happy-ever-after wedded bliss is a stunning last tableau, which leaves us moved and uplifted. Most of the costumes (by Alexandra Byrne) are fine, but the bright colours of the fairies’ costumes remain a matter for debate, and it’s hard to tell what period we’re in: the male courtiers sport teddy-boy quiffs atop their elegant long coats and breeches, and the women’s ballgowns and white evening gloves put me in mind of Grace Kelly, but there’s a 17th-century jester (Taisuke Nakao, who was brilliant) and in Act 1 Cinderella’s father wears a sumptuous Victorian-style housecoat. It doesn’t really matter though, as it all looks gorgeous.
Choreographically, Ashton’s genius glows throughout in phrases of pure, technically challenging classical step-sequences combined with his unique feeling for stylish upper body work (which sometimes isn’t as strongly interpreted as it might be). The solos for the fairies and the Fairy Godmother, Cinderella’s dances in the kitchen and the stunning pas de deux for her and the Prince at the ball, the waltz for the Stars, all are exemplars of choreographic artistry and inventiveness.
The magnificence of this great company with its roster of excellent dancers could not fail to shine as always, despite some ragged moments in the corps work and in the quartet for four men in Act 2. There were jarring issues of musicality when the four fairies danced together; these need addressing. All this was undoubtedly due to first night tremulousness and will be ironed out as the run proceeds. In the ranks of the corps my eye was repeatedly drawn to the excellent placement and crystal-clear footwork of Marco Masciari, and Lukas Bjørneboe Brændsrød and Joshua Junker put in sterling comedic work as the suitors.
I loved Téo Dubreuil's haughty dancing-master. In the very demanding fairy solos, Isabella Gasparini as Spring balanced her sprightly footwork with lovely Cecchetti moments in the upper back and shoulders, and Mariko M. Sasaki was a pitch-perfect Summer, technically assured and imbuing every movement with the languor of a heat-haze. Fairy Godmother Mayara Magri, was warm and charismatic. Marianela Nuñez brought the joy of her impeccable technique to every movement throughout. Perfectly placed, turnout fully engaged, it’s classical purity at its finest, but Nuñez seems always to be seeking to improve on perfection by examining and finessing tiny details, lifting her interpretation onto another plane. Such thoughtfulness, such insight. Her consistently sunny demeanour in Act 1 would perhaps be enriched by more unhappiness at her mistreatment, which would suit the aforementioned duality in the music and the set. Reece Clarke epitomises everyone’s dream Prince; his partnering is seamless and a joy to behold.
As for the Stepsisters, Gary Avis never fails to amaze with his ongoing athleticism (I reckon he’ll be doing double tours at 80 and beyond) and expressive characterisation (his curtain calls are a work of art in themselves), and Luca Acri gave him a run for his money as a pastel-coloured, powder-brained Vera Vague, always outwitted but never outshone.
The orchestra under Jonathan Lo were outstanding.
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