It seems Christopher Hampson, Scottish Ballet’s ever-adventurous Artistic Director and choreographer, can’t quite let go of Cinderella. His original production, made for the New Zealand Ballet in 2007 and revived for his own company in 2015 and 2018, was a grown-up and narrative delight, bringing the fairytale down to earth whilst retaining its magic and offering some lovely classical choreography alongside the comic turns of tall-and-short sisters and ballroom mayhem.
And now he’s had another go, inspired apparently by a book of gender-reversed fairy tales to wonder what difference it would make if Cinders were…a man. Shock, horror! Was this yet more fashionable gender-based role-swapping? Would a man have to cope with girly bourrée-ing? Well, obviously, no: Hampson is far too savvy a theatre-maker for that. What he has done, whilst retaining some dance elements of the earlier version, is to completely re-think the staging to give a realistic and fairly up-to-date narrative which ditches all the traditional tropes: the sisters are not ugly, there’s no fairy godmother, Mrs Thorne is neither a stepmother nor particularly wicked, and Cinders is alone for a reason. It’s a new work. It has the coherence of any TV drama, and on top of all that we have Prokofiev’s enchanting score, always teetering on the edge of discord and dissolving into romance.
We open in the foyer of the Rose family’s Edwardian ladies’ and gentlemen’s outfitters. The owners stroll amongst elegant customers while their small child (boy or girl) scurries about, getting charmingly under their feet. Come closing time, the shoppers depart and lights are extinguished for the night. But oh no, what’s this? An oil lamp has been left smouldering and in no time the place has gone up in flames! Newspaper headlines projected on the frontcloth (different in each venue) whizz us economically through narrative so that the Glasgow Herald/Edinburgh Evening News proclaim ‘Fire Tragedy!’, ‘Orphan only survivor, nicknamed Cinders!’.
Years pass in a twinkle: the child runs offstage and a grown-up Cinders walks on. But all is not well; despite Cinders’ best efforts, the failing shop has been sold to the Thorne family, headed by a brash and aspirational mother determined to drag it into the new fashion era (from which they take their style), and her three spoiled children. Yes, three: sisters Morag and Flossie (tall and short) and a brother. Called Tarquin. And if you thought the sisters would be trouble, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
Comedy is already in the air and continues to sit happily and subversively alongside enough classical choreography to keep purists happy and a rose motif that twines evocatively through the production. Cinders keeps the parents’ memory symbolically alive in a rose, and it’s the smashing of its vase that conjures up not a fairy godmother but Cinders’ dead parents. It’s they who offer the invitation to the ball and then guide Cinders to the magical twilit rose garden (where else?), where their loving and lyrical pas de deux is echoed by a group of dancing roses. From here, it’s a mere step to the palace and evening dress, although the clock face looms menacingly in the background.
The ball is, as ever, a glorious mash-up, with elegant group dances constantly upstaged by the Thornes, and two visiting dukes as their understandably nervous targets. Tall Morag, clearly recently escaped from Love Island, is unashamedly on a man-hunt, while Flossie - basically good natured but in thrall to her big sister - does her nervous best, which usually ends up with her skidding, on the floor in splits or facing the wrong way. She also has an innocent tendency to flash her bright red knickers. Great timing and deceptively pin-sharp dancing from both dancers (Grace Horler and Claire Souet in Glasgow, Amy McEntee and Alice Kawalek in Edinburgh).
Many years ago I saw the retirement performances at Covent Garden of Frederick Ashton and Robert Helpmann, dancing these roles for the last time. That was a joy, and I’ve rarely seen it better done until now (which is quite a compliment). Choreographic fireworks, however, belong to Tarquin (Aaron Venegas or Javier Andreu), an overdressed ball of show-off, hyperactive athleticism, hurtling about the stage in leaps, turns and cartwheels that, curiously, seem to have caught Someone’s eye…
Act Two, and while cobblers are hard at work turning out replica slippers to be sent round the kingdom, Hampson gives the drowsy, lovelorn prince/princess a vision scene – a swooningly romantic pas de deux with the mysterious stranger that inspires a personal quest. The mechanics of the slipper-fitting, while still comic, are quite truncated - because, as we see, the two lovers know each other instinctively already… Hampson has previously defined the ballet not as Cinderella's rags-to-riches story but a tale of two lonely people discovering each other and we rejoice at that, somehow forgetting that one of them is royalty.
So what difference does the gender-swap make? Well, actually, relatively little. Certainly in terms of the actual dance: the choreography is much the same irrespective of who’s playing what, except for some obvious variation in solos to accommodate male/female specialities. That is, in pas de deux, each is dancing the steps they would have danced in any pairing. However, it’s true that we are less used to seeing a male dancer experiencing vulnerability and tentativeness, which perhaps made Bruno Micchiardi as Cinders more touching on my first Glasgow viewing. Conversely, the commanding style of a princess in her own right reminds us how rarely women get the chance to make that kind of confident statement. My Glasgow Princess Louise was Jessica Fyfe, who then appeared in Edinburgh as Cinders, alongside a princely Jerome Barnes. Hampson knows that good choreography isn’t enough: these days a narrative ballet has to have dramatic coherence and proper characterisation, and he has grown a company who have all that in spades. For this Christmas/New Year tour Scottish Ballet are fielding a bewildering array of casts, and not just male and female Cinders. Everybody, it seems, gets a moment in the spotlight, which proves once again how strong-in-depth this company is.
And, of course, it’s a happy ending for pretty much everybody. Cinders and partner will be running the new shop, Flossie cuddles up with her duke - and Tarquin has run off with the other one, getting the biggest cheer of the night. Hurrah!
At the end of the Edinburgh run, however, the company will be bidding farewell to one of its most loved principals. With her performance as Princess Louise, Bethany Kingsley-Garner calls time on a sparkling career after 17 years with the company. Spotted at the Royal Ballet School graduation performance in 2007 (where she’d been working with a new choreographer called Christopher Hampson…) by Scottish Ballet’s then-Artistic Director Ashley Paige, she was offered a contract there and then. She ’flew up to Scotland with my life in a suitcase’ and, well, stayed. She has danced every major role in the company’s repertoire, promoted to principal on stage in 2016. But as they used to say about the Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave. Bethany is embarking on a new career with the company, embracing teaching in the outreach programme. Schools and community centres will be so lucky to have her.
Cinders! is in Edinburgh until 20 January, His Majesty’s Theatre, Aberdeen (24-27 January), Eden Court, Inverness (31 January-3 February), Theatre Royal, Newcastle (7-10 February)
