Hungarian National Ballet’s La Bayadère is the very definition of sumptuous, virtuosic, ‘big’ classical ballet. This new version by company ballet master Albert Mirzoyan is based on Marius Petipa’s 1877 original, but with the added bonus of a reconstructed Act 4, often omitted by tradition. The result is an opulent throwback to the heyday of grand, Imperialist Russian ballet, still vital in this exciting revival.
Mirzoyan has not sought to radically re-envision the piece. István Rózsa’s stunning painted backdrops and Nóra Rományi’s colourful, sparkling costumes are very much in the 19th century Orientalist tradition. Theirs is the fantasy version of India that inspired countless visual artists and composers of the period. Works like these have recently come under fire for the manner in which their mainly white, male creators appropriated Indian culture. A detailed program essay outlines this context, including inspirations found in Goethe, contemporary translations of Indian poetry and even touring dance troupes from that continent. The production thankfully leaves out offensive elements like the use of blackface for the young temple attendants, as is sometimes still the tradition elsewhere. The production’s choice to slightly darken the warriors’ skin is questionable however, especially since none of the other ‘Indian’ characters are similarly treated.
Just as the visuals transport us back to another era of ballet, so do some of its choreographic elements. The final section of Act 2 is largely mimed, thus establishing the rivalry between Gamzatti and Nikiya for the love of Solor. This ultimately results in the former poisoning the latter with a snake hidden in a ‘gift’ of flowers. Some newer productions, like Natalia Makarova’s 1980 version for American Ballet Theatre, omit much of the mime. Here, it only enhanced a feeling of authenticity, especially when delivered so naturally by the principals in question.
Hungarian National Ballet is blessed with a roster of dancers deep enough to do justice to La Bayadère’s virtuosic roles. Tatyjana Melnyik in the title role (Nikiya), Maria Beck as Gamzatti and Louis Scrivener as Solor each possess all that is required to breathe life into characters who could easily turn into cardboard cutouts.
The role of Nikiya isn’t without its virtuosity, but mainly, it requires a dancer capable of executing a never-ending string of sustained penchés, bourées and signature arched-back poses, usually when held aloft by Solor. Melnyik delivered all of this with utmost composure, adding a melancholic twinge that suited Nikiya’s arc of tragic love, unfulfilled.
Gamzatti is a showier assignment which Beck mastered to thrilling effect. Her famous Act 2 variation saw her flying through the air with impressively lofty jetés. She also conveyed the role’s more nefarious aspects without sliding into caricature.
As Solor, Scrivener demonstrated absolute authority from his first entrance. Even within the limited dramatic conventions of the genre, he clearly communicates his affections are with Nikiya rather than Gamzatti who he is forced to marry by her father, the Rajah. A highlight was Solor’s Act 3 solo in which Scrivener launched into a thrilling series of grands jetés and double assemblés en tournant. This was athleticism at the peak of technical refinement.
La Bayadère is replete with delightful, signature dances that are a big part of its appeal. The famous Golden Idol variation was not added until 1948, but has since become one of the ballet’s best-known parts. At this premiere, it was danced by Motomi Kiyota who elicited cheers for his vertiginous leaps and sheer bravado. Scarves, jugs and baskets of flowers recur as props used to add difficulty to choreography already filled with challenges. Nikiya and Solor’s Act 3 scarf dance was particularly entrancing, with Scrivener timing his manipulation of the yards of fabric in perfect synchronicity with Melnyik’s complex movements.
Well into the later 20th century, La Bayadère was mainly known outside of Russia thanks to the Kingdom of the Shades, its Act 3 ballet blanc for the female corps. Rudolf Nureyev famously staged it in London in 1963, dancing Solor himself alongside legendary ballerina, Margot Fonteyn, as Nikiya. In Budapest, the female corps crowned themselves in glory with their slow, diagonal descent until all 32 dancers filled the stage. The effect was stunning, and showcased their impressive, precise unison.
For the reconstructed finale, Mirzoyan commissioned György Lázár to orchestrate sections of a forgotten ballet by Ludwig Minkus, La Bayadère’s composer. This offered conductor Péter Dobszay and his excellent orchestra some rousing storm music to accompany the destruction of the temple which precipitates Nikiya and Solor’s reunion in the afterlife.
While there are certainly reimagined and reduced versions of La Bayadère in current circulation, this extravagantly realized production by the Hungarian National Ballet probably won’t be matched anytime soon in terms of sheer grandeur and artistry.
