Having premiered at Sadler’s Wells just over a year ago, Alina Cojocaru and her production company, AC Workroom, have since enjoyed touring small international venues, now visiting a packed Opernhaus in Bonn. The work is their first full length piece, La Strada, a take on Federico Fellini’s 1954 film. It’s the bleak story of a village girl who is sold to the circus by her mother to serve Zampanò, an abusive strong man. Perhaps not perfect programming for Valentine’s Day but this audience lapped up the opportunity to see the former Royal Ballet Principals (Johan Kobborg plays Cojocaru’s kindred spirit, Il Matteo, a unicyclist) and their talented ensemble all the same.
The creative elements demonstrate great thought and care within the confines of a limited budget. Set designer Otto Bubeníček’s simple staging with muted colours, even for the circus performers, is effective and filmic. The supporting cast are of a high standard, predominantly alumni of Hamburg Ballet where Cojocaru serves as a Guest Principal. Choreographer Natalia Horečná, although not widely known yet, shows some flair as a storyteller with scenes flowing easily, although there are some bumps in the road in Act 2.
It’s likely not a coincidence that Cojocaru suits the role of the innocent Gelsomina so well. Her slight frame in a simple button-down dress and childlike, wide-eyed gaze demand the empathy of the audience against the brutish Zampanò (Mick Zeni). Cojocaru’s contrasting softness makes it easy to see her vulnerability even though the true extent of the abuse is only hinted at. One can imagine the performance not making such an impact with any other dancer. She is the only member of the cast in pointe shoes and despite her fragile character, Cojocaru’s balletic quality is still so apparent. She’s at the receiving end of many lifts and holds, all of which she brings a gymnast-like quality to, as well as showcasing herself as a fine actress.
Kobborg is boundlessly impressive in the short moments he takes centre stage. Still with more than a spring in his step at 52, his character departs with a flourish of fouettés, his pedigree and charisma always shining through. It’s a shame there is no true showcase for Cojocaru and Kobborg’s Il Matteo to dance together. We see Cojocaru float between the two men, unclear whether reality or her imagination. At one point she lies before the unicyclist but he seems unsure how to react to her. The rejection is quietly devastating.
Similarly, watching Gelsomina’s stoic faux cheer as she waddles around in her bowler hat asking for coins. The way she continues, her intentions so pure, amongst the grotesque caricatures of the circus, her face blank, her body moving independently of her mind. Horečná doesn’t need to spell out the nature of Zampanò’s abuse in the way the film does, but this strategy leads to a rather woolly Act 2, leaving the audience unsure of Gelsomina’s motivations or, indeed, of a clear conclusion. Does she die? It’s left ambiguous.
Bubeníček’s circus of exuberant performers – jugglers, ballerinas, clowns – are vividly realised. The women are strong and amazonian-like, some in shiny gold leggings and eye-catching pom-poms, all in stark contrast to our meeker protagonist. Zeni’s Zampanò is at home as the star of the show, flexing his pecs and barking orders whilst keeping a watchful eye over his tribe. However the aforementioned unevenness brings down La Strada’s impact with a less engaging Act 2. There’s further jostling for ownership of Gelsomina and we drift frequently into her imagination where she floats on the shoulders of two anonymous angels, but it lacks the purpose seen earlier.
Despite some shortcomings, La Strada is a striking work for a ballet and Cojocaru and team’s interpretation is creative and thought provoking. It could be further elevated with some editing and of course the luxury live music but the group work intelligently with what they have, delivering it with a touching sincerity.
