It is easy to see why Rudy van Dantzig’s true-to-tradition version of Swan Lake still works. It is a combination of beautiful vulnerability and tremendous technical challenges – for the female dancers especially. In a culture that seems to relentlessly push solipsistic art, this is a vital breath of fresh air. This vulnerable ballet performed by great individual dancers spoke to me convincingly of timeless competing complex values such as: resistance to tradition, search for beauty, true love, deception through sensuality, reconciliation and sacrifice.
Swan Lake had a bad reception at its premiere at the Bolshoi in 1877, but was successfully adapted by Marius Petipa & Lev Ivanov at the Mariinsky Theatre in 1895 and has since become an all-time classic. Dutch choreographer Van Dantzig’s version premiered in 1988 and is decidedly classical throughout, in dance and visuals.
The story is well known: Prince Siegfried is told to look for a suitable high society bride on his 18th birthday. Unwilling to do so, he must wander off into ‘new territory’, the woods at night. There he discovers his ideal, Odette. Odette, a swan by day, is under a spell of the evil (bird of prey) Rothbart and can only be freed by true love, which Siegfried swears to. But the next day Siegfried mistakes the sensual black swan Odile, Rothbart’s daughter, for Odette at a ball organised in his honour. Giving in to lust, he proposes to her instead. A betrayed Odette flees back to the lake. Siegfried begs for and receives her forgiveness. In a fight with Rothbart, he perishes in the lake, sacrificing himself.
Maia Makhateli as Odette/Odile is incredibly fast on her feet. Her jittery entry and the couple’s accidental brush on stage are so real that you’d expect feathers to fly. Daniel Camargo as Siegfried is a great partner, controlled and dreamy, but untypically he misses some of his physical oomph tonight. Thankfully he redeems himself with some fine dancing in the third act and convincing remorse in the end. His perishing in the waves of the lake gave me goosebumps.
Makhateli’s white swan is mesmerizing and bouncily weightless with long arm lines. She is technically faultless and her solos are sublime. Her black swan Odile is seductive with a mean edge. Her 32 fouettés en tournant in the third act are impressive. Her come-hither attitude matches James Stout’s Rothbart, who is more false than scary.